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“What do you see?” I ask, even though I shouldn’t.
“I imagine it’s what you see when you look at me.”
He’s beating around the bush, prompting me to once again read between the lines without telling me to do exactly that. “How was work?” I ask to distract him.
“Good. Same old, but I enjoy what I do, and I like the company I work for. I got a call about twenty minutes ago.”
“Yeah?”
“Blakely seems to think we need another pizza date. The three of us.”
“Yeah, she told me that today. She was sure that all she had to do was call you and tell you, and you’d make it happen.”
“I will. The question is, will you be joining us?”
“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“It’s a great idea. I get to spend time with you and my niece. It’s an excellent idea.”
“We can’t.”
“We can.”
“Have you always been this stubborn?”
“Probably. Although, I don’t know if I’ve ever wanted anything or anyone in my life as much as I do you, so maybe not.” He pauses a beat. “Just think about it. Can you do that for me?”
“Fine.”
“That’s all I need. I know it’s getting late, and I’m going in early tomorrow, so I need to get in bed. Sweet dreams, Crosby.”
“Night, Rush.” He ends the call, and I drop my head back against the couch. I want so badly to call him back and ask him to come over, but that’s just playing games with both of our hearts, and I refuse to do that. Instead, I lock up, turn off the lights, and head to bed.
Rushton: I miss you more today than I did yesterday. Have a good day.
That’s the message that I woke up to today. I’ve looked at it more times than I’d like to admit. It’s just after seven, and I expected him to call by now. Just as I think that, my phone rings. I bite down on my bottom lip and accept the call. “Hi.”
“Hey, gorgeous. I can’t talk long. I’m on my way to Archer’s. He bought some new shelving for his garage and needs help unloading it. We’re going to grab dinner after. Do you want to join us? I can bring some by after?” There’s hope in his voice.
“I just ate.”
“What did you have?” he asks.
“Grilled chicken and asparagus.”
“Nice. How was your day?”
“I thought you couldn’t talk long?”
“I can’t, but I have enough time to ask my girl about her day.”
“I’m not your girl, Rush.” No matter how badly I wish that weren’t true. I overheard a conversation at school earlier this week in the break room. They were talking about contracts, and how some weren’t going to be renewed, and my heart dropped to my toes. I don’t know if it’s me, but I have a feeling that it is. I’m the low man on the totem pole, the new girl, the outsider. There is a damn good chance they were talking about me. Even more reason that even though I want to be his girl, I just can’t be. Not until I know for sure.
“You are. We have some time to wait until we can make it official, and I’ve accepted that. That doesn’t change how I feel about you or who you are to me.”
I hear Archer say hello. “Talking to Crosby. Give me a second.”
“Hi, Crosby!” Archer yells so that I can hear him.
“Tell him I said hello.”
“My girl says hello. Now go. I’ll be right there.” I hear muffled words, and then Rushton is back. “Sorry about that. So, your day?”
“My day was good. Nothing major to report.”
“Good. As much as I don’t want to, I need to go so we can get this done and go eat. I’m starving.”
“Be safe.”
“Always, baby. Talk soon.”
“Talk soon,” I tell him, and the line goes dead. I spend the rest of the night cleaning my kitchen. I wipe down the cabinets, sweep, mop, and even clean out the refrigerator. By the time I get in bed, I’m exhausted, and I hope that means I can fall asleep easily. The past few nights, all I can think about is Rushton while wishing he were here with his arms wrapped around me.
My eyes are closed, and I’m just about to drift off when I get an alert for a new message. Reaching over, I grab my phone and pull up the message.
Rushton: Dream of me.
“Always do,” I mutter before placing my phone back on the nightstand and closing my eyes. Just like he asked, I dream of him.
Every morning and every night this week have started and ended with Rushton, and I don’t know how I feel about that. He’s not doing what I expected. I thought he’d get frustrated and tell me to kiss his ass, but he’s done the complete opposite. He tells me he misses me, to have a good day, that he’s thinking about me, and he makes sure that it’s either a message or his voice that’s the last thing I think about or hear before I drift off to sleep each night.
