He definitely loves me.
My heartbeat stumbles, and a warmth spreads low in my stomach. I grab my phone, thumb trembling with excitement. I hesitate for a moment.
Should I text him?
Is it too soon?
Will he think I'm weird?
He signed it Red.
I type quickly.
Me: I slept really well thanks to you.
I hover over send, my pulse thudding, then tap it before I can overthink. And the thrill that shoots through me almost hurts.
I stare at the screen for over three minutes, but nothing comes back.
He's probably sleeping,I tell myself.
Or showering.
Or thinking about kissing me again.
My phone buzzes, and my butterflies dance harder.
Red: Good. I'm glad. What are you going to eat this morning?
I grin so wide, my cheeks ache. Not "hi," or "how do you feel," or "last night was a weird emotional accident." It's just him being bossy and trying to take care of me again.
Me: Do toaster crumbs count as food?
He doesn't answer right away. I imagine him rolling his eyes, maybe sitting on his couch in sweatpants, hair rumpled from sleep, telling himself he's not thinking about the kiss.
I glance at the time.
Scratch that. He's definitely at the office.
Shit!
It's after ten and I'm late for work.
I exit the text chain and see all the missed calls and texts from Mom.
My phone buzzes again.
Red: Eat real food, Blue. Something with protein would be best.
My heart squeezes. He's so worried about me, it's adorable.
I go into the kitchen, pull the expired yogurt from the trash, set it on the counter. I place the cereal box next to it. I snap a photo and send it to him.
Me: Look at me being responsible.
I don't get a response. My heart falls, but I remind myself he's at work. So I get into the shower but don't stay in it long, worried I might miss his reply.
He's probably in a session with a patient, thinking about how he kissed me.
