Ido not sleep.
Not even a little.
I lie in bed staring at the ceiling, the wall, my phone, the ceiling again, my phone again, and every time I close my eyes, I hear his voice.
It wasn’t just dinner.Let me make it simple.You’ll come back.Goodnight, Ruby.
My whole body tingles like I’m plugged into a socket.
“This is ridiculous,” I whisper to the empty room.
The empty room doesn’t argue, but it absolutely judges me.
I roll over.
Roll back.
Roll to the other side.
Kick the blanket off.
Pull it back on.
Consider screaming.
Eventually, I sit up, grab my phone, and stare at his last message.
Jaxon:
Goodnight, Ruby.
Nothing exciting.
Nothing suggestive.
Nothing inappropriate.
So why does it feel like he whispered it directly against the side of my throat?
I flop back on the pillow and groan. Loudly.
“STOP THINKING ABOUT HIM.”
My brain: Absolutely not.
I glance at the clock.
2:04 a.m.
I sit up again. I throw the pillow across the room. It bounces off the dresser and lands limply on the floor, a metaphor for my life, honestly.
I get out of bed and pace the room.
It’s just coffee tomorrow. Not a date. Not a follow-up to dinner. Not the next step in some slow-burn seduction arc that ends with me ruining my job and my dignity.
Just coffee.
I stop pacing.
