Chapter 4
Chapter Four
“I mean, I knew you were committed to the whole ‘no distractions’ part of your plan,” Emma says, currently on her way home. “I didn’t think that meant resisting calling him all weekend.”
I’m sitting in bed in my pajamas, legs crossed, eyes fixed on the note. It’s lived on my nightstand since Friday.
I’ve been telling myself not texting was the right call—stick to the plan, focus. And I did. For three days.
Despite at least a dozen drafted messages.
But then I got to work today, and nothing flowed. I’m back to being blocked. Which means I can’t help but wonder—did keeping Joshua at arm’s length backfire, and now I’m stuck in my own head? Apparently, longing is my creative fuel.
“Well, I didn’t text him,” I say, like the very thing I thought would help me concentrate isn’t now the thing wrecking my inspiration. “So why is it that I worked better when exchanging these stupid little notes?”
“Maybe you’re more like a dog than I thought,” she answers. “Positive reinforcement is a thing, you know. You need your reward to keep going. And now that you have his number, you know there’s not going to be any more notes.”
She sighs dramatically. “It’s either all or nothing, babe.”
“Great,” I growl, sounding like an angry puppy. “Instead of chicken treats, I get Harrison.”
“Please, he is the treat.”
“Tall, sexy, and dangerous.”
“You keep calling him trouble as if you don’t want a taste,” she teases.
I snort. “I want a lot of things. Doesn’t mean I roll over and whine.”
She rolls her eyes at me. “Why don’t you text him? Like…are you not wondering if that’s even his real number?”
“That’s the one thing that I’m not worried about. Why would he give me a fake? It wouldn’t make sense.”
I squint suspiciously. “How are you this calm? It’s weird."
“Simple. I’ve accepted the fact that you two are meant for each other, and I’m sitting back and watching this unrealistic love story unfold from the front row,” she rants. I can see her shrug, like it’s no longer a big deal. I disagree. “Still a little bit jealous.”
“Jealous of my inner emotional turmoil?”
“Just once. For science, or whatever. Text him. See how work goes tomorrow.”
It would serve to test my hypothesis.
“It’s late though. Should I wait, maybe? He might be asleep.”
“Honestly Jay, it’s ten o’clock. How old do you think he is?”
I pretend I haven’t already done the math. I’m about to ask her when she steamrolls ahead. “He’s thirty. Only a couple years older than us.”
“Fine, I’ll text him,” I give in.
“Good luck,” she sings. “I’ll call you first thing tomorrow. This is better than Hollywood drama.”
I roll my eyes and hang up. Determined not to lose my nerve, I go straight to my messages. His number is already saved—blank chat, waiting.
Then, thinking back on how this whole thing started, the perfect message pops into my head. My fingers move on their own, typing it out and sending it before hesitation can catch up.
As if it suddenly combusts in my hands, I lock the screen and drop my phone face down. I lie and cover my head with the blanket.
Within the darkness of my improvised hiding spot, I wonder at what point in my previous relationship my confidence was damaged badly enough for me to be this nervous over a text.
Questions start popping into my head.
Is it normal for him to take this long? Did I not make it clear that it was me? Maybe it wasn’t as funny as I thought it would be. Anxious, I reread the text.
It sure seems like it’s you who is trying to see me again…
Just as I’m about to climb out of my own skin, his reply buzzes in, finally ending the torture. My whole body lights up like a Christmas tree.
Harrison
Not going to deny that I want to see you again. Also not buying that you didn’t go back to the Anchor to look for me.
I smile like I haven’t smiled in almost a year. A real, wide, uncontainable grin. I’d forgotten what this felt like.
You wish, Harrison.
Harrison
I don’t have to wish, love. I know.
Aren’t you glad, for one reason or another, that I went back?
Harrison
I am.
I thought I wasn’t going to hear from you.
I’ve been waiting for a call since Friday night.
Keep waiting… this is the best I will do right now.
Really—who even calls anymore? The thought of it makes me embarrassed. I’m still in control as is. No calling. I haven’t caved.
Harrison
Awe, are you being shy now, Thomas?
I can go to bed if you’d prefer that…
Harrison
Nooo.
His reply comes in so quick it makes me think he’s been craving this as much as me. I grin. Gotcha.
Harrison
I’m beginning to think the notes might have been faster… three whole days and I barely get to say hello.
What can I say? I’m a busy girl.
But don’t you worry, Justin. I’ll stay for a bit.
Harrison
Busy, huh? Care to share?
Girl’s weekend. Making friends, shopping…
Harrison
Oh! You finally got an umbrella!
I slap a hand over my mouth, trying to stifle a laugh. We’d hit every store imaginable. I have new jeans, sweaters, jackets, makeup, and a dozen other unnecessary things. And somehow, I forgot the one thing I actually did need. He’s never going to let me live it down.
Umm…
Harrison
Julia Thomas.
Please don’t tell me you didn’t get one.
It’ll be fine.
It’s only been rainy twice since I got here. It’s not that bad.
Harrison
It’s going to rain all day tomorrow.
I check the weather. Sure enough, the whole week is covered with scattered thunderstorms. Every. Single. Day. I should’ve known. It’s too late to find anything useful. Stores are closed, and my fate is sealed.
Well, all I can do now is hope it’s not pouring on my way to work or back home.
Harrison
I’m rolling my eyes so hard at you right now.
Oh, calm down.
Harrison
Whatever you say, Thomas.
His Thomas is starting to sound suspiciously like a pet name. The typing bubble pops up. Disappears. Come back. My curiosity spikes.
Harrison
Enough with the small talk.
I want to know if the image I have of Julia Thomas matches the real thing.
I shiver. I haven’t been great at opening up—not since the whole getting-my-heart-broken debacle. Turns out, the less you give people, the less they can use against you. Not exactly foolproof, though. Maybe it’s time to try harder.
Enlighten me, then.
Who do you think I am?
I stare at the screen as he types. He takes his time, long enough to send my already-ridiculous nerves into overdrive. I pull my knees up to my chest. My heart’s doing laps. Finally, his message pings:
Harrison
I think you’re brave, smart, and creative. Not afraid of a challenge or standing up for yourself. But I also think you’ve been hurt in the past. You’re guarded. You can be insecure, even though you have no reason to be; you’re drop-dead gorgeous.
And I think you’re kind. You seem like someone who’s always taking care of others before themselves, and that makes me even angrier when I think that some twat was stupid enough to break your heart.
I read it once. Then again. And again. It’s unsettling how accurate he is. That compliment—snuck in so smoothly—makes my cheeks burn. What the hell am I even supposed to say to that?
Harrison
Too direct?
Maybe a little.
I’m not sure what to say—I’m not used to reacting to any sort of compliments.
How do you know my heart’s broken?
Harrison
I told you. Not long ago, I used to be in your position.
What did you do to fix it?
Harrison
I spent some time with my parents.
They made me see what I had was nothing like them.
Huh. Maybe I should be taking notes.
Mine have been married for thirty years.
Harrison
That’s a good place to start.
Are you doing okay?
I’m tired.
Physically and mentally. Tired of chasing the version of myself I used to be and never quite finding her.
It gets exhausting—working and trying to fit in at the same time.
Harrison
You never told me what you did exactly.
Marketing Specialist for Mavericks.
Harrison
Fancy. I run past their building almost every morning.
I hate running.
Harrison
So do I.
Then why do you run?
Harrison
Blow off steam, breathe fresh air.
I can think of a few other ways to blow off steam that don’t involve running…
Harrison
Oh? Do tell.
Maybe some other time.
I should get to bed.
Big day tomorrow avoiding the rain.
Harrison
Okay.
Will I get to see you again?
Flashbacks from the day we met play in my head like a movie trailer montage.
I remember the electricity that shot up my fingers when our hands touched, and I wonder what it would be like to hug him.
To be wrapped in his arms, even for a moment.
I know if I wanted, I could see him tomorrow.
But I’d be lying if I said that I was ready for that.
Hopefully.
Harrison
Think about it. I promise you won’t regret it.
Sweet dreams, Thomas.
Night, Harrison.
I fall asleep within minutes, comfort and happiness flooding my veins. I dream in blue—the color of his eyes—staring at me and breaking down all my walls. A warm embrace in his dark little corner of the bar.