I stared at the shower curtain. "What if I'm no good for her?" I questioned, revealing more than I intended to.
"That's not for you to decide. Allow her to make her own choice, but you have to give her a chance first."
I was quiet. "I gotta go."
"Yeah, well, I'm proud of you for real. Now, text the woman before you talk yourself out of it." She laughed.
I smiled. "Yes, ma'am."
"Love you, big head."
"Love you too, brat."
I ended the call and turned the knob to run a hot shower. While the water heated up, I shed my remaining clothing andstepped inside. Kiara's words rolled around in my head, not to mention the shower didn't wash away thoughts of Gisselle as I hoped. If anything, the hot water made my skin more sensitive, more aware.
Afterward, I toweled off and pulled on a pair of sweats. I picked up my phone and headed toward my desk, not yet ready to sleep. My mind was all over the place.
My office was situated in the den, just off the living room. I settled into the chair and powered on my laptop. I wanted to give my attention to these arson files, but my eyes drifted to my phone.What was Gisselle doing? Was she thinking about our kiss, too, or had she already dismissed it as a lapse in judgment?
I picked up the phone, then set it down before picking it up again. This was ridiculous. I was a grown ass man. "Fuck it," I muttered, swiping the phone open and pulling up Gisselle's contact. I typed.
Me:
Goodnight, beautiful. Sweet dreams.
I hit send. I closed my laptop and headed toward my bedroom.Would she reply, or would I have to wait until morning to know whether I'd made the right choice?
I finished organizingmy kitchen drawers, a task I had put off since moving, when my phone screen lit up on the counter. I reached for it, expecting another text from my mother asking if I'd met any nice people yet. Instead, I was caught off guard with a text from Liam.
Liam:
Goodnight, beautiful. Sweet dreams.
Lieutenant Crawford had actually texted me. And not just any text, but a text making my stomach do things I hadn't felt since sophomore year when Terrance Washington asked me to homecoming.
I sank onto a barstool. Beautiful? The man who barely smiled sent me a goodnight text with terms of endearment?
"Girl, stop acting brand new," I muttered to myself, unlocking my phone to see the full message. There wasn't any more, only those words flipping my evening upside down.
My thumbs hovered over the keyboard. What would be an appropriate response for a man who'd kissed me senseless on a street corner, then walked away like some hero in a romance novel? The kiss had been fire, literally and figuratively, and we both knew it.
Me:
I thought lieutenants weren't supposed to text civilians after hours. Breaking protocol, Crawford?
I hit send, and not even thirty seconds later, my phone lit up again.
Liam:
Some protocols are worth breaking. Still thinking about that kiss?
Damn, so much for subtlety. Heat rose to my cheeks.
Me:
Bold of you to assume I am.
Though, of course, I had been. His response came quickly.
