I lay in my bed, staring at the ceiling.
I'd gone for a run, showered and read a couple chapters of Pride and Prejudice (Beatrice had all but forced me to), but I couldn't sleep.
Every time I shut my eyes I felt my restlessness kick in and I had to open them again.
Eventually I decided that I had absolutely nothing to do rather than to call Bea up again. Knowing her, she probably wanted an update on how the ballet was going.
I drew my cell off of my nightstand, clicking it open. Eight forty-two.
If I was about to call anyone else, I would have stopped myself out of courtesy. But I knew with certainty that Bea would be awake. I just didn't know if she'd answer.
"Are you planning to go to his apartment again?"
"Is that any way to say hello?"
"You can't blame me for asking! So what's up?"
"I can't sleep." I whined, falling back to stare at the ceiling, "And I'm bored."
"What you need," she started, "Is a night out to get you away from all this pining."
"I'm not pining!" I insisted, sitting up again.
"Whatever you say, Juliette. So, anyways, I have this really cute dress and it's begging to be shown off. Why don't we go hit the club scene?"
"Clubbing?" I asked incredulously, "Me?"
"You're a dancer, aren't you?" she chuckled, "And I'm not about to take no for an answer. Get over here."
She hung up. I tried her phone again, but she'd obviously turned it off.
I let out a noise of annoyance and got up, moving to get my shoes and jacket.
If there was one thing I'd learned since I'd met Bea, it was to never keep her waiting. She could talk a person's ear off when she was happy, so letting her down essentially was like writing a death wish.
She lived in a building just a block down from me, anyways, so it meant I didn't have to go very far.