I got the call when Leigh and I were done making love. Our hair was messy, our cheeks were colored red and our legs were still tangled with each other in the messy sheets.
Leigh's parents weren't home. They were at work.
Her blond hair brushed my bare chest and I asked softly, "how was it?"
Leigh smiled up at me. "Perfect, Taylor," she tells me. Then she leans over and kisses me softly on the lips.
The whole thing was perfect. She was perfect. But I guess all perfect things have to end.
My cell phone, which I put in my jean pocket (which was on the floor) started vibrating.
I sat up and moved over the the edge of the bed and picked up my jeans. I pulled my cell phone out of its pocket and it answered it without checking call display on the fourth ring.
"Hello?" I asked the caller.
"Taylor," a stressed female voice replied. It was my Mom. "Something happened."
I gripped the phone in my hand harder. "What happened?" I asked.
"Something bad," she replied. "There was an accident. Are you at Leigh's house?"