40. Rosalyn
FORTY
ROSALYN
I lift my head to look out my bedroom window, toward the St. Paul skyline.
Me: That’s not too far.
Nathan: So you’ll come.
I drop my head back down.
Me: I’ll try.
Nathan: Promise me.
My fingers hesitate over the screen.
Me: I have a job tomorrow. If something goes wrong, I could still be working at 8.
It’s mostly true. Though I doubt anything would keep me that late.
Nathan: I can wait all night.
He’ s not going to let this go.
And if I’m honest with myself, I don’t want him to.
Me: Fine. If I’m going to be late, I’ll let you know.
I lower my phone onto my chest and roll my neck so I’m staring at my closed closet door.
My phone vibrates.
And keeps vibrating. With a call.
My poor pulse skips again.
Nathan is calling me.
Nathan. Is calling me.
I sit up.
We were texting. He doesn’t need to call.
The phone continues to vibrate.
I take a deep breath. And press the button to accept.
“Hi, Rosie.”
My eyes roll back.
Saying hi should not sound that erotic.
I hold the phone a few inches from my ear so he hopefully can’t hear how out of breath I feel. “Hi, Nathan.”
He lets out a short hum of appreciation that I feel in my nipples. “I just need to hear you say it.”
“Your name?” I ask quietly.
Another hum, with a hint of humor. “No, though, that was a nice bonus. I need to hear you promise you’ll come tomorrow night.”
I swallow as his voice vibrates through the phone against my palm.
“I promise,” I whisper. Meaning it.
“Good girl.” His words crawl across the line. “Sweet dreams, Pretty Rosie.”
Then he hangs up.
And I reach into my drawer.