Segno
It wasn’t late; at least, not if what he was distinguishing through blurry vision was the actual time. Ten? Or was it one? No, ten. Which meant he’d just about fallen asleep then.
Ian had been in bed since eight-thirty, too bummed out to stay up but, as his body advised while he’d tossed and turned, too edgy to keep his eyes closed. He’d seen nine come and go, nine-thirty as well, and sometime between those numbers and the ones that now graced his wrist, he’d managed to start drifting off. The phone however, was working in tandem with his nerves to keep him from actual sleep.
His first thought when he’d seen the unfamiliar number on the phone was that Madison had been stranded somewhere, yet again, by another random date. Yet when he connected the call and mumbled his “what” into
