Page 37 of Sparks Fly

I snorted and shoved my phone back into my pocket.

* * *

The ride home was slow. City lights flickered on and windows spilled warm rectangles onto the street. I liked the way the bike vibrated beneath me and the way the wind cleared my head.

At home, I showered, changed, and collapsed onto the couch with a lime seltzer before flipping on Top Gear. I didn’t actually care about cars. I cared about the shouting. It kept me company without asking questions.

I thought about texting Addison. Before I could, my phone lit up.

Addison: I survived. Barely. Sweats. Drag Race. No responsibilities left.

I smiled and typed back.

Me: I’m on my couch watching British guys yell about engines.

Addison replied a few seconds later.

Addison: That’s… strangely hot?

I leaned back into the cushion before answering.

Me: Don’t analyze my coping skills.

There was a short pause before another message appeared.

Addison: Tuesday still feels close.

My breath hitched at that.

Me: Yeah. It does.

We kept it easy after that. No big confessions, just small back-and-forth messages that already felt familiar.

Addison: I think I might fall asleep on the couch.

Me: long days with do that to you.

Me: Go to bed, Sunshine. Don’t sleep on the couch… I’m sure you have a very nice, expensive, comfortable bed.

Addison: I do, you should come over and see for yourself. I could use a snuggle.

Me: Another night, beautiful.

Addison: Rude.

Addison: Goodnight, Sawyer.

I smiled while typing my reply.

Me: Night, Sunshine.

I didn’t know what this was yet, but I knew it wasn’t a fluke, and for once I didn’t feel the urge to run from it.

* * *

12

Addison