I’m careful as I walk down the steps, never taking my eyes off my phone like a complete idiot.
Mr. Wrong Number:I’m going to build off it. Then, that feeling will turn into feelings. And then I’m going to cherish it, build it, construct a safe place for it, so when you decide to finally enter, you’ll see that your feelings are reciprocated, needed, and cherished.
I stop at the bottom of the steps, the wind cold and slightly blowing into my face. Leaning against the side of the apartment complex, I reread his last message until my eyes blur. I’ve never had anyone talk to me like this.
I’m already addicted to the way he speaks to me, and I never want him to stop. That’s a scary realization, because what if the mystery of who we are is the motivator? What if we meet and I’m a massive disappointment?
I blow out a breath, a frozen cloud leaving my lips. I walk to my car, lost in my thoughts, the negative almost winning until I shake my head. No, I won’t let doubt win. I won’t let it control me. When he and I meet, if it doesn’t work out, it won’t be anyone’s fault.
Some things are meant to be fleeting, to get you where you need to be. Some things are meant to be temporary, like laughter in the moment of true happiness.
Love, sadness, excitement, they all happen in moments.
Some things last forever if the heart chooses.
That’s all life is. A series of choices that never ends.
I want him.
Even if he brings me sadness or regret. I’ll remember this feeling, the one where his words made my heart race and my mind dream of being loved like I’ve always wanted.
That’s something that lasts forever. That feeling.
Me:That sounds like a home I’d really love to step into.
Mr. Wrong Number:It will be ready when you are.
15
ELIAS
The ER is slammed today.It’s an all-hands-on-deck kind of situation. The flu season has hit hard. We’re running out of beds, and at this rate, we might have to start turning patients away for them to go to another hospital.
“What were you doing before you were called in?” Dr. Warrick asks.
Winston—I should call him Winston. He’s my friend now. I need to get used to that.
He presses his forehead against the coffee machine as it groans and tries to fill up the two hundredth coffee cup this afternoon.
“I was…I was…” I stumble over the truth, unsure if I want to bethathonest.
His eyes gleam with life over the dark circles and he grins. “Oh, you have to tell me now.”
I scratch the back of my head, making a sound of uncertainty.
“We have ten minutes before we have to go back out into a war zone. Spill.”
Like I’m going to tell him I was making a replica of my cock to send to a woman I’m dating that I’ve never met.
I look around the room to make sure we’re alone and pull out a chair, the legs grinding on the floor.
“Oh, this is going to be good. Yes, please. Let this be enough to get me through this shift.” Winston plops down in the seat, stirring the sugar in his coffee with a small black straw. “I’m listening.”
“You’re a bit of a gossip, aren’t you?” I smirk, finding it hilarious that Winston, such an accomplished surgeon, loves to hear what everyone else is doing.
He tosses the straw in the trash. “First, I’m not a gossip. Gossips spread the information they find. I listen. I hoard it. It keeps me alive during times like this.” He crosses his left leg over his right knee, tilts his head, and waves his hand in a circular motion. A gesture that tells me to go on.
“Fine.” I lean forward, folding my arms against the table and he matches my position. “You can’t tell a soul.”
