Love at The Bluebird

I draw my eyebrows together in concern at her sudden change in demeanor. Where the hell is this coming from?

“Do you think the only reason I want to see you tonight is to have sex?” I question, my own voice sounding cold.

“No,” she replies hesitantly. “Maybe… I don’t know.” She sighs and I let out the breath I didn’t realize I was holding. I’m glad she was honest, because if we’re going to build trust in this relationship, then she needs to always tell me any doubts she’s feeling.

“First off, thank you for sharing your doubts with me. Please don’t ever hesitate to express them. Secondly, of course I want to fuck you, Aly, but that’s not my first priority,” I tell her in a firm voice, needing to erase any thoughts of me just wanting her for sex out of her head. “I want to get to know you, and the rest will come when you’re ready. Doesn’t matter how long that takes.”

“Are you really this perfect?” she asks, her question making me chuckle.

“I’m far from perfect. No one’s perfect, and I’m sure I’ll do something in the future to piss you off. I’m just going to apologize right now for that. Hope you’ll remember this conversation when it eventually does happen.” She laughs and I take that as an indication she’s feeling better. “Honestly, I just wanted to see you one more time before I leave tomorrow. Cuddling and sleeping was all I was thinking about, and it’s perfectly okay if you tell me that I shouldn’t come over tonight.”

“Cuddling and sleeping sound good to me,” she says in her soft, sweet voice that makes my chest tighten with want.

“Are you sure about this?” I question, not wanting her to invite me over out of obligation.

“Positive.”

“All right, then. Text me your address and I’ll see you in a few.” We say goodbye and within seconds, she sends me her address. I put it into my navigation and am pleasantly surprised to see she’s less than five miles away from me. I put the car into reverse, back out of my parking space, and start driving to her house.

Ten minutes later, I’m pulling into the driveaway of a cute, cottage-style house. The house is located in an older, trendy neighborhood that is close to Belmont University and near Music Row. Even though this house is small and close to thirty years old, because of the area it’s in, it’s worth a lot of money. Questions of how she can afford to live here bubble up into my mind while I walk to the front door.

The landscaping is well kept with trimmed bushes and beautiful flower beds. The front porch looks inviting with potted plants and a swing located to the right of the front door. Before I can get to the first step of the porch, the outside light turns on and the door swings open. Aly stands in the doorway, wearing a long-sleeved, pink V-neck shirt and pajama pants with hearts all over them. Her long hair is down, falling over her shoulders and framing her beautiful, makeup-free face.

“How did you know it was me?” I ask as she moves aside and lets me in. I turn around to face her while she closes the door and locks it.

“I heard your car door shut.” She walks up to me, and I embrace her in a tight hug. We stand like this for a moment, her head resting against my chest, and I have no doubt she can hear the pounding of my heart.

“This place is nice,” I whisper as I take in the Bohemian-styled living room that fits Aly’s personality. Her cream-colored walls have colorful artwork hanging on them, with a large, round gold-rimmed mirror above her fireplace mantle. A navy-blue sectional couch is against the main wall with gold-and-white accent pillows on it. Her hardwood floors are covered in Turkish-style accent rugs that are strategically placed around the house. She has an open floor plan, so my eyes wander over to the updated white-and gray-kitchen with a small breakfast nook perfect for four people. Despite the older look of the exterior of the house, the inside has been completely remodeled and updated.

“Thanks, but why are you whispering?” She leans back in my arms and gives me a funny look.

“I don’t want to be disrespectful and wake up your roommate.”

“Roommate? I don’t have a roommate.” My arms drop to their sides in shock, giving her the perfect opportunity to step back and walk around me to the kitchen. “Do you want something to drink?”

“Hold up, did you just say you don’t have a roommate?” My voice must have come across as angry, because her eyes widen in surprise.

“That’s right,” she says slowly, confusion written all over her face. “I don’t have a roommate. Is there a problem with that?”