“Thanks. Have a great day.” The courier hands me the package and without another word, he runs down the steps.
“You too,” I manage to mutter more to myself than to him. He’s gone before I can even mouth the words.
Nudging the door shut with my foot, I have the phone pressed between my ear and shoulder. “Sorry about that. The package you sent me arrived. Do you want me to open it while I’m on the phone with you?” I can’t help that my voice drops to a rasp because I know what’s inside this box and I can’t wait to take it out.
“No. You’re going to wait a bit.”
“Wait?” I pout.
I hate waiting.
“Be a good girl and wait.” His voice deepens so much, the baritone slithers through my body. It takes over my movements, and I place the box on the floor next to my bed.
“Fine, I’ll wait until you say I can open it.”
“Good. I’m glad. I like that, you know.”
“What?”
“That you listen when it comes to certain…things.” Somehow, his voice becomes impossibly lower, and I fall back onto the bed, the butterflies in my stomach swirling to look for a way out.
“I like listening when it comes to those…things,” I whisper in response, my body coming to life just at the thought of him gently ordering me. “It’s good to hear your voice.” I don’t know where I’ve heard it before. He feels familiar. He sounds familiar.Everything about him seems like I’ve met him before and I can’t place where.
Maybe he’s one of those souls. The kind that relates to mine so much, like we were destined to collide.
“It’s good to hear yours too, sweetheart.”
That’s when I can hear it, the exhaustion mingled with a hint of sadness.
“Are you okay? Is something wrong? How did work go today?”
He sighs so loud it causes the microphone to crackle. “It was okay. There’s a lot going on that I wasn’t expecting. I’m trying to work it out.”
I nibble on my bottom lip as a crazy, irresponsible thought crosses my mind. “Do you…do you maybe want to come over? We can talk about it. I hate the thought of you being alone right now, knowing you’re sad. Unless you have plans with someone else, then maybe tomorrow?” I’m so tired of waiting to see him.
I know it was my idea to wait. But now that I know we’re both serious about this relationship, waiting doesn’t seem right anymore. Every text, I wish he was next to me. The sound of his voice makes me wish I could crawl into his lap and bury my face into his neck, breathe him in, and let the vibrations of every word he speaks seep into me to lull me to sleep.
Silence falls on the other line and my face heats with rejection. I rush to add, “We don’t have to. We can wait. I didn’t mean to put that kind of pressure on you. You have enough?—”
“I would love to. I want to. I want to see you so much, I know it’s the only thing that can save this day, save my mood. I need to see you, so fucking much it hurts.”
I sit up, my heart pounding in my chest. My hand presses against the thudding beat. I can’t believe he agreed. “Really? You’re serious?” I can’t hide my smile. My cheeks hurt. They always hurt when it comes to him. “You’ll come over tonight? I’ll get to see you.” I do my best not to squeal.
He chuckles. “Sweetheart, I want nothing more. But know this—I’m not leaving tonight. I’m staying.”
“Oh?” I pick up the pillows from the floor and toss them on the sofa where they belong, then fold the blanket and lay it across the cushion. “I don’t remember inviting you to sleep over,” I tease, my tone light and playful. “I don’t know if it’s a good idea.”
It’s a great idea.
“You have about ten minutes to wrap your mind around it, then. I’m on my way. You should have thought about that before you gave me your address for the package I sent. Granted, if I knew the courier was going to take all day, I would have just brought it myself.”
“You’re on your way! I’m not ready.” I fly into the bedroom and check myself in the mirror. I’m in a simple pair of light pink pajama bottoms and a white tank top. My red hair is messy, tossed into a bun on top of my head like always, and I have no makeup on.
“Don’t change a thing about yourself. I want to see how you typically are at home. I want to see you comfortable.”
“I…I don’t know. First impressions are everything, aren’t they? When people meet.”
“We’re past first impressions. I don’t care what you look like.”
