Call Me By Your Name Plot Novels & Stories

I just stood there, frozen, staring at the phone. The girl paused, then said, a little thrown, "Liam? You there?" That voice—I knew it. It was Nina. Eighteen. Memories slammed into me like a wave. Twelve years ago, around this time, Nina called to tell me she was in love. I forced the panic down. My voice came out dry. "What do you want with Liam?" She hesitated. "Who is this?" I dodged it. "You're calling Liam Lambert... planning to confess, right?"

I frowned. “Who?” “You.” I couldn’t breathe. “You were there,” he whispered. “At the facility.” “No.” “You were young.” “No.” “You were crying.” I shook my head violently. “I don’t remember.” “I know.” “Then how do you remember me?” “Because you were the only person who called me by my name.” I stared at him. “What name?” His eyes met mine. “Dominic.” My heart broke. “But everyone else called me Number Nine.” I couldn’t speak.

I suddenly looked up at the tall figure in front of me, and he was looking at me. “My name is Maya, and you can call me that.” Yes, I told him my name in order for him to shout it, and I swear to God in heaven that I will not stop until I hear my name escape his lips. He cast a glance my way. “Perhaps I should call you Aya?” I locked my gaze on his. “Much, much better.”

“...You can call me Rae.” **** The End ****

I couldn’t care less how she would be gone, all I wanted was for her to be out of my life and Damien’s as well and I had tried everything I thought could be useful but nothing ever worked. “So this is the perfect opportunity to get my heart desires” I muttered under my breath as I rushed into the guest room. “Why do you call me this late?” The voice asked. “I’m just trying to remind you that we’re on for the plan from tomorrow right?” I whispered. “Yes” “Can you are least tell me what I’m to call you?” I asked, at least putting a name to the voice would be better than nothing. “Call me C” “Okay, C, so how do you plan on making Abigail fall into your trap, I mean no one comes close to her at

What if I was bothering him? “Ivy,” Maria said softly. “Call him.” I looked at her. “He said you could, didn’t he?” I nodded slowly. “Then call.” My fingers tightened around the card. Slowly… carefully… I pulled it out. The name stared back at me. Zayn Kane. Even his name felt… powerful. I took a shaky breath and reached for my phone. My hands trembled as I dialed the number. Each ring felt louder than the last. Once… My heart pounded. Twice… I almost hung up. Three… The call connected.

My eyes burned, but I blinked hard, willing the tears away. Digging into my bag, I pulled out my phone with trembling fingers. My nails scraped against the smooth screen as I pressed the call button. The line rang, and rang until he finally answered. “The name,” I said, “The last fucking name, Nikolai. I’ve done everything you asked. I’ve crossed every line. Please, just give me the name.” For a moment, there was only silence on his end. It stretched out like a noose tightening around my neck, pulling at my patience, my control.

“If you want to bleed all over your secret cabin, that’s your decision.” “Aya.” I stopped. It was the first time he had said my name. Not party crasher. Not sweetheart. Not some sarcastic nickname. Aya. The sound of it in his voice sent an unexpected shiver through me. I slowly turned around. Callum was staring at me with an expression I couldn’t understand. “How do you know my name?” I asked. He looked away first. “Linda told me.” “Oh.” That answer should have satisfied me. It didn’t.

He wanted to apologize. I tried to keep my breathing steady. I failed. “Look him up,” Melrose told Arden, who quickly pulled out her phone. Seconds later, her eyes widened. “Mael?” she whispered. “Mael Virelis?” She said his name louder this time. Melrose grabbed the phone from her. Dane sighed. “I’d prefer if you keep this private. I told you because it’s you two. Can I go now?” Melrose hung up. They stared at the phone, then at each other, before their eyes finally settled on me.

I was lounging at home, scrolling through social media, when a livestream title suddenly caught my eye—"The Other Woman Crash Course." Curious, I entered to see a woman talking animatedly, "My sugar daddy gives me 200,000 every month. I just need to keep him satisfied!" Viewers were doubtful and asked, "I don't believe you. Tell us how you two met." She smiled. "That's alright. You don't get to meet someone like that every day. I met him after doing a bone marrow transplant with his girlfriend three years ago. That's how I met this golden bachelor." I frowned. I had a bone marrow transplant three years ago too. Suddenly, the door opened, and she covered her phone in panic. A man's deep