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My undoing.
The woman of my dreams.
The woman who is still late to work right now and is totally getting away with it.
I’m hesitant to reach for my phone to text her first. I hate not knowing where she is or what she’s thinking. These past few days with Sterling have really heightened everything. Especially after yesterday. Since coming to the realization that I don’t have to be ashamed to have actual feelings, I’ve been able to let down my highest walls, to be my full self with her. It has been so freeing.
But it also feels daunting to open myself up. I just hate that I’m subjecting myself to the possibility of getting hurt, how I imagine my mom did to my dad. But after spinning all the thoughts in my head over and over, I tell myself that I’m okay with that risk because Sterling is worth it. If she’d ever be ready to take the next step, I’ll be right there by her side, a proud and changed man.
After a few long minutes pass by, I give in to the urge to send her a text message. But just as my fingers hover over the send button, a familiar voice presents itself at my door.
“Mr. David. I was wondering if I could have a word?” She’s staring up at me with those beautiful ocean blues that lock me in a trance.
But her perfect eyes don’t excuse the fact that she has a job to do, and I want to be mad at her for being late to work.
“You’re late,” I snap, not harsh enough to make her think she’s in any serious trouble, but enough to tell her that she can and will be punished.
“I know, I just had to wrap up a few things with the moving company. They kept me on the phone way longer than I expected and-”
“Movers? You found a place?” I interrupt, trying to hide the disappointment in my voice. I hate that I’m affected this way, that I’m jealous of the new place she’s moving into.
“Yeah, some guy asked me to move in with him and at first I didn’t think it was a good idea, but then I thought having a roommate could be nice.”
Sterling stands near the doorway only inches inside the office. She’s wearing the sexiest ripped jean shorts and an oversized graphic t-shirt. Nothing near work appropriate.Did she just say she’s going to live with another guy?
“Who is he?” I ask with as much restraint as I can gather. I mean, I just asked her to be my girlfriend the other day and she has the audacity to walk in here and break this news to me?
Sterling walks into the room and closes the door behind her quietly before turning back to me. She walks directly up to me and places both hands on my face. I feel heat everywhere. Heat from desire because I haven’t been able to stop thinking about her, but also heat from vexation that she would announce this news so nonchalantly to me. And now, she’s moving in with some random guy that I’ve never even heard of.
“Callan.” Her voice is my vice. Her eyes are like sirens, pulling me into the ocean that is her deep and drowning gaze.
“It’s you, silly,” she whispers, a smirk curling on her pink lips.
My heart jumps.
“What?”
“You’re the guy. The movers will have all my things into your place by this afternoon,” she speaks with amusement, as if she knows what she just did to me. I don’t know if I should be pissed or relieved. “I hope that’s okay,” she adds.
I can’t move fast enough. I lift her into my arms, straddle her around my torso and kiss her with as much force as I can. The way she riled me up just now somehow ignites the most passion I’ve ever felt, in this kiss. I thought she was leaving me, and I never want to let her go.
“I don’t have a lot of stuff, I promise,” she says behind a sly smile, letting go of the kiss as I set her down to sit on the edge of my desk. I stand between her legs, my hands still wrapped around her waist.
“Sweetheart, I wouldn’t have been mad if you brought fifty boxes or wanted to say fuck it all and left everything behind. I could have taken you to buy anything you wanted.” And I would have.Anything for her. But she just shrugs her shoulders and giggles silently.
“Come on, let’s go.” I pull her by the wrist to guide her out of my office.
“Where are we going?”
“First, to breakfast. Then, we’ll spend the rest of the day moving you in.”
“We might want to skip breakfast and go straight to your house. The movers are kind of waiting to be let in,” she laughs, which makes me laugh too.
She wasn’t lying when she said she didn’t have a lot of stuff. She mainly brought over clothes and a few boxes of necessities. I feel excited as I watch the movers drop her boxes into the spare room, though I hope she’ll be spending most nights in my bed.
I can tell she feels awkward and maybe even a little unsure about what’s happening. I mean, I’d be lying if I said I didn’t feel a bit of that too. But I want to reassure her that she is free to come and go as she pleases. I told her this only has to be temporary if that’s what she wants.
“And what if I don’t want us to be temporary?” she questions, picking up on our conversation right where we left it in the car earlier.
