My chest tightens but not with fear. With something dangerously close to comfort. To being seen. To mattering to someone.
Me: I will make sure to get sleep tonight, Ty.
A beat.
Ty: You’d better.
I drop the phone like it's hot, staring at the ceiling with a ridiculous smile on my face. I like bossy. This kind of bossy.
Holly: So did he text you yet?
I don't even try to deny it.
Me: Maybe.
Holly: Welcome to the beginning, sweetheart.
Later that night, I crawl into my bed at the rental at a very reasonable time. I’d been thinking about Ty all day long. Somewhere deep down, past the nerves and the heat and the absolute insanity of what's happening, I realize something that both thrills and terrifies me.
I don't want to run away this time.
Last time a man started giving me what I wanted, what I needed, I got scared. It was intense and I wasn’t ready. I ran away from him and the relationship. It’d been years, I’d grownboth physically and emotionally more mature. I’m able now to recognize and vocalize exactly what I’m looking for.
I want to see what happens if this plays out. What kind of Daddy is Ty? Is he a cinnamon roll? A golden retriever? A stern but fair Daddy? I want to see what happens with him when I don't behave at all. Like the girls in the romance books we read. The characters who find their forever Daddy who nurtures them and spanks their naughty butts when they misbehave. Is Ty a spanker? Why am I thinking these things? I toss and turn in bed, so many questions going through my mind. It’s late when I finally drift off to sleep.
The next morning, I wake up to another text.
Ty: Where are you filming today?
I stare at the message for a long moment, coffee halfway to my lips. The smart thing would be to tell him it's none of his business. That I'm an adult who can make her own decisions about where she goes and what she films.
Instead, I type:
The trail off County Road 6. Why?
Three dots. He’s taking a while, I’m expecting a paragraph by the time the text pops up.
Ty: No you aren’t.
Um, what? What makes him think he can dictate where I film? He hasn’t even asked me out on a date yet. What. The. Hell.
Me: Yes, I am.
Ty: No, you are not.
Me: I’m going to need a bit more than that from you.
Ty: The area's been flagged for suspicious activity. Pick somewhere else.
My eyebrows shoot up.
Me: Suspicious how?
Ty: The kind I can't discuss. Trust me.
And here's the thing, I do. Despite barely knowing him. Despite every rational part of my brain screaming that this is weird and probably unhealthy and definitely not how normal people operate.
I trust him.
