She sent one more text. Then she closed her eyes and tried to sleep. Didn't want to get stuck in a long text message. Also with who would this long conversation be? Some stranger who made his own 

toilet paper

? That would be absurd.

She didn't know if there would be a reply in the morning. But she was looking forward to checking then. 

His voice was nice. Raspy. Not classically attractive. Handsome in its own way.

You could tell that kind of thing just by a voice. Apparently studies found correlation between the perceived attractiveness of a voice and the actual person. 

Imogen Howe

wondered how her voice sounded. She rarely heard it. when she did she would wince. Everyone seemed to be like that.

Everyone but Cal she thought. Cal probably was okay with hearing his own voice. He seemed like that kind of guy. She was tempted to look at her phone again. She had turned off the notifications so she wouldn't know whether she got a reply or not in the middle of the night.

It was better this way. To cut herself off from the wondering. And to just embrace the wait. The wait until morning.