“Jesus, F, CHRIST!” I shouted, pushing my finger down on the side button and turning it off completely.
If anyone wanted to get a hold of me, they could just call work.
I was done with the stupid phone calls that weren’t from Dawson.
And thankfully, the day passed by without a single phone call from anyone – other than a couple work calls.
I felt completely defeated and void of any other emotion as I pulled my car up in front of my house. I knew that Dawson wouldn’t be here working today. Did I wish he was? Yes. But did I know better? Also, yes.
The question as to why he hadn’t called or texted me or sent a fucking carrier pigeon ate away at me with every passing minute.
We’d kind of fought, and I’d never truly been in a fight with him before, not even when we were younger.
I didn’t like it.
At all.
Rounding the front of my car and hopping up onto the sidewalk, heels clicking against the concrete, I told myself to suck it the fuck up.
I’d been let down before and I said it best the other night: you don’t always get what you want, especially in this world. I was a true believer that shitty things happened to good people, and shitty things happened to bad people.
It just was. And the shitty thing was that maybe Dawson and I would never be a thing. Maybe we had simply just shared another amazing kiss, and that was just the end of it.
What a shame.
He was such a good kisser. A sexy kisser. Talented.
“Hey.”
I squealed, dropping my phone and purse in one single movement, stepping backwards with a wide-eyed expression etched on my face.
“Jesus, you scared me!” I yelled, staring into those familiar blue eyes.
He was here. Dawson was sitting on my porch stairs.
How did I not see him before? OH, that’s right. I was too busy telling myself to get over the fact that he hadn’t called. But here he was, and just like that, my thoughts of getting over it went poof.
I would never be able to get over it. No way.
“You’re very unaware of your surroundings,” he mused, slowly standing up.
I fought a smile. “Why do you think I’m always tripping?”
He let out a throaty chuckle and I felt it go directly down to my southern regions. After kissing Dawson the other night, I was even more linked to him. Like his mouth was just a small taste of temptation and now I was just left with wanting more. Needing more.
I wasn’t quite sure what to do or say, so I kept my mouth shut after he laughed. A pregnant pause passed between us, me staring at him, him staring at me. I avoided looking into his eyes for too long, afraid I might get swept away like dust in a wind storm.
Dawson looked hot; that was something I couldn’t take my eyes off. He was wearing business-like clothes, just the same as the first time I saw him, back in his father’s office.
His dark grey slacks hugged his thighs and his white dress shirt was unbuttoned at the top, like he was literally about to be photographed for Sexiest Man of The Year. I wouldn’t be surprised if I walked into the grocery store later and he was on the front cover of Glamour magazine.
He w
ore rugged, working-man well, but seeing him all sleek and fancy wearing dress clothes – that was like pouring gasoline on a fire.
I was burning up.
“I broke up with Breanna,” he said, as I passed by him to get to my front door.