Robin’s eyes lit up. “Please jump his bones, and then I want all the details. Give me something to vicariously live through. I’ve been married for twelve years, you know,” she said, giving me a knowing look.
I patted her hand in mock sympathy, as if being married for so long was the worst thing that could happen to a person.
The speaker took to the lectern and began a presentation on interest rates and how to navigate around potential bank-client issues. As she droned on, my mind continued to replay the scenes from last night.
It was troubling that it had been one night, and I was already this consumed by Cal. My only excuse was that it had been so long since I’d wanted to spend any time with a guy, my emotions were heightened to the point of overload.
Forty minutes later, my phone vibrated. I pulled it from my pocket, just to make sure it wasn’t my office calling. It was a text message notification, and when I opened it, I laughed out loud in the middle of the presentation that I had only been half listening to anyway.
The people sitting in front of me turned around to stare. Robin glanced at me, then leaned over to try to peek at my phone as I turned it away from her view.
Dream Lips: Can you be ready in an hour?
Apparently Cal had added himself to my contacts list as “Dream Lips,” which was what had made me burst out laughing.
Tapping quickly, I adjusted my text notifications for him, assigning the dark blue smiley face that I used for any guys who sent me texts. Organized person that I was, I’d assigned green to my dad and other family members, and red to my boss and coworkers.
Since Cal was the only guy in my life texting me at the moment, anytime I saw the blue smiley appear, I’d know it was from him. I briefly considered changing his name or adding “Cal” to the end of it, but couldn’t bring myself to do it. “Dream Lips” made me laugh, and I couldn’t argue with the nickname. His lips really were dreamy.
As I typed out a response, I smiled.
Jules: Dream Lips?! Nice. LOL Yes, I can.
Dream Lips: Good. Dress warm. The rink gets cold.
Shit. Shit. Shit. I really wasn’t prepared for this arctic city. I responded to his text, which set off a flurry of back-and-forth messages.
Jules: Can you do me a solid and bring me a sweatshirt? I didn’t pack well for this trip.
Dream Lips: So California of you. I’ll take care of you, babe.
Jules: Thanks. Meet you downstairs in an hour?
Dream Lips: Perfect. See you soon.
Each time my phone vibrated with a message from him and that blue smiley face appeared, my heart did a little flip inside my chest and a dumb smile spread across my face. I knew it was a dumb smile because it felt foreign and awkward as I bit down on my bottom lip. I was almost giddy with anticipation of what he might say.
It was ridiculous. I was being ridiculous.
What was even more ridiculous was the fact that I enjoyed it. Every single second of this craziness made me . . . happy. All the feelings I’d been avoiding for years came rushing back with a vengeance, and I welcomed them as if I had any choice in the matter.
“I’m gonna go get ready. Let me know what I miss?” I whispered to Robin, who told me to get some before I crept out of the presentation twenty minutes early.
Back in my room, I changed into a pair of jeans and a fitted blue sweater. I used the term sweater loosely because it was made of the thinnest material, practically transpa
rent. It was made for looks, not warmth, and I had to wear a tank top underneath it so no one could see my girls.
Twisting my hair around my curling iron, I added a few loose waves to my typically straight hair. The curls added volume and texture that I’d missed while being away from the climate in LA.
Dream Lips: Here.
That stupid smile appeared on my face again, and I tried to shake it off as I replied that I was on my way down. After mussing up my hair and giving it a spritz of hairspray, I headed out.
In the elevator, I started to get nervous. What if being with him wasn’t as fun and nice as it had been last night? What if our connection was only because he’d been drinking, or because I had been tired? What if I’d imagined everything, and when I walked out of this elevator and saw him again, I felt nothing?
Oh God, I was suddenly sick with trepidation.
The elevator dinged and I stepped out into the lobby, stuttering mid-step as I saw Cal standing there, holding a single pink rose.