Lovers Calls Novels & Stories

Michelle's POV As I was planning to head over to my best friend's house, my phone buzzed with an incoming call from Elissa. To my surprise, an unfamiliar voice answered. Puzzled, I asked him, and a deep voice on the other end explained that my best friend had left her belongings somewhere. Surprised by the unexpected call, I asked for more details. The man on the phone sounded patient as he provided information about where my best friend had left her things. Grateful for his assistance, I said, "Thank you for letting me know. I'll pick up her belongings ."

she murmured, her eyes cast downward, her gaze fixed on the ground as if willing herself to disappear into its stone depths. "Aurora," I repeated, my voice tinged with a desperation I couldn't hide. I yearned to hear her speak, to see her eyes sparkle with the warmth I'd glimpsed in the garden. But her response was mechanical, her tone devoid of emotion. "What do you demand I speak about, Your Highness?" I felt a pang in my chest, a wound inflicted by her detachment. "Aurora, please," I implored, my voice cracking with a vulnerability I couldn't conceal. "Look up, just for a moment. Meet my gaze."

I can still feel his hand stopped on my navel and my body was already itching to be touched everywhere. "I love you, Eve." I smiled, "I love you too. Very. Very. Much." He laid me a kiss then his hand traveled down, there. I moaned and my eyes shut close as his finger slidon the sensitive portion of my core. My hand grabbed on his arm and my hips were moving slowly as he does.

He asked. "Perfect." Lover smiled at him since that was what everyone called him. The only people that ever called him Lover were his mother when she was alive and his brother. "We should go back to the room for a change of clothes, we are near-naked," Eric suggested. "No, you can't do that. There is a DA waiting at your room door." Lover told them. "We saw them when we left the room. So that was why they were there." Eric's face twisted into a frown.

More jewels and gowns than I could count. Every night he needed me, I’d put on whatever lacy thing he picked out. We’d have sex. Five years. 999 times. There were moments—his sweat dripping on my forehead, his soft breaths inside me, the way he’d look at me—when I let myself dream he loved me. Then the video dropped. Him. On the street. Kissing another woman. I knew the truth. He was my keeper, not my lover. Everyone laughed. They couldn't wait to see me lose my mind, begging him to keep me.

Just the low hum of the city thirty floors below and the thud of my own heartbeat. I glanced at my phone for the hundredth time. No missed calls. No texts. No little I’m sorry, Queen GIFs he usually spammed after a fight. Seven hours of radio silence. Daniel Carmichael, the man who once drove through a blizzard to bring me soup when I had the sniffles, had gone full ghost. Tonight I would be the bigger person. I snatched the phone off the duvet, thumb hovering over his name like it might bite me, and hit call.

With everyone watching him, he pressed a tube of lipstick into my palm and said, "I didn't know you were such a klutz. You didn't even realize that you left this behind." The tone of his voice made it seem as if he were talking to his lover. Tristan's gaze darkened in an instant. He gritted his teeth and demanded, "What are you going here, Xavier?" "Are you deaf? He said he's here to return Luna's things," Dad retorted. However, Tristan seemed to be deaf to Dad's words. He glared at me and asked, "Did you leave me for him, Luna?" I barked out an indignant laugh. "Not everyone's like you, Tristan. Not everyone's a bastard who can't stay loyal to their partner."

Dian jolted upright, his hand instinctively groping for the remote that now lay useless in the dark. "What the fuck?" His voice echoed through the apartment, clearly confused and irritated. Then I walked into the room, my eyes straining against the pitch black room. I traced the wall until I hit him. I could barely see his face. But I could feel him. The heat of his body. The presence. "Trina?" he called out, uncertainty in his tone. I scoffed internally. Of course he thinks it was his girlfriend seeing as she was the last person he called, that thought alone infuriated me.

Carl thought it was an excellent idea and went to buy it, so while he was doing that errand, I put music connected to the audio system, programmed with an iPod and from one moment to another, the different melodies began to spread throughout the apartment. I created a playlist that I named "Just Lovers". Every time I listen to it, I remember the day I showed it to Carl. I was dying of grief for the selection of songs, but he liked it, he liked that playlist so much, that we made love; a stimulus coming from one of the titles incorporated therein. Between songs from Hippie Sabotage, passing through Two Feet, until I reached —perhaps— the best of The Weeknd, I uncorked a beer and drank it whil

I feel like I’ve built a wall, and the phone call love might use to reach me has been cut. ⸻