It was 7:30pm on December 31st when his phone rang. He hadn't noticed it until the fourth ring of six. Having just gotten out of the shower, he waited for the steam on the mirror to dissipate so he could see himself again and not just an outline of who he was.

"Yeah?" he answered, still lost in the thoughts of all that he had just tried to scrub off, turning the tap towards hot every time he got used to the new sensation.

"Hi" her voice was meek, the way she got to him last time.

"Hi"

Silence for a few long moments, neither of them knowing where to go next from here. This could be the end of the conversation, one of them hanging up. But hanging up would take more guts than either of them had left.

"I just wanted to wish you a happy new year. I know it's early but we'll both be out and I didn't want to interrupt your night or anything." She started pulling her tights on, the phone held up with a taut right shoulder.

He couldn't respond.

"Hello?'

He looked at the mirror again for the first time since she had called, he had just been staring at a gathering of hair and dust in the corner by the bathtub.

"Yeah, thanks."

"Please don't pick up if I phone you tonight."

He imagined her phoning, thought about the difference in her voice after all the drinks and other things she would have consumed by that point in the night. What she'd say when she couldn't stop herself from saying, like she was doing now.

"I can't guarantee anything."

She laughed at the dry tone he was using, the one she knew how to maneuver, to get to the part of him that nuzzled his lips where her phone now was to whisper 'I want to die in the crook of your neck."

The sound of her laugh, slightly restrained with short bursts of a childish giggle when she took a breath and couldn't control the natural peak of her voice, made him want to throw the phone in the toilet. Every time she phoned, every time her name appeared on the screen, every time he looked at himself after a shower, ate a grilled cheese sandwich, walked out his door, sketched something on a napkin, felt the warmth of his stiff drink, touched himself, turned his Ipod off, got on a train, put his socks on, looked up at the sky, felt someone else's touch, it was to the thought of her.

He was still holding the phone up to his ear, a few drops of water still clinging to the edge of his shoulders. "We could do this forever."

He thought she had hung up after the laugh, was slightly afraid she had never even phoned.

He looked down at the bright screen, a drop of water falling from his shoulder onto the number six, it still said connected.

He heard her swallow something, dry white wine from a mug that said 'Welcome to Hawaii' with a dancing character in a red bandeau and grass skirt. He knew this without being there.

'We have been.' She hung up.