Layla
. . .
I’m lying on my bed staring at a paused video frame of Reed Hayes like an obsessed woman.
He’s behind his bar in the clip; shoulders flexing under his flannel, forearms moving smoothly in circles across the polished wood, jaw clenched with focus.
The warm amber lights soak into every line of his body, turning him into trouble carved out of shadow and bourbon.
He glances up toward the camera, toward me.
The memory of his hand curling in my hair, the heat of our kiss, hits me with full force.
I snap the laptop shut before I do anything embarrassing, like lick the screen.
My phone buzzes.
Buzz. Buzz. Buzz.
Snatching my phone off my comforter, I press the side button to preview the incoming message.
Reed
Every mile between us is pissing me off, because I can still taste your lips and I’m nowhere near finished with you.
The way you broke that kiss like you needed air? I want to steal every breath you take when you get back here.
My brain short-circuits. My soul leaves my body. My toes curl so tightly I might never walk upright again.
It’s so bold of him to message me like this. I mean, I initiated it last time, AND we did have phone sex.
Layla? What are you babbling about?
Layla
So you admit you’re thinking about my mouth right now?
The typing bubbles appear without hesitation, like he didn’t even put the phone down.
Reed
I haven’t stopped thinking about your mouth since the second I walked away from it.
And I’m done pretending I didn’t want more.
That phone call shattered every shred of restraint I had left.
Heat surges through my veins, and like clockwork, my pussy throbs, and I can feel myself getting wet.
Before I can respond, Catalina blows up my phone, her messages flooding in.
Catalina
FAMILY DINNER NEXT SATURDAY HOE
I have a HUGE announcement
Like you’re going to freak out
I want EVERYONE there, including you, because you’re family
Book the damn flight BITCH
Layla
What kind of announcement??
Catalina
If I told you, you’d faint and maybe die and I don’t want to bury you, so BOOK.
Reed’s text interrupts, and oh boyyyy.
Reed
I need another taste of you, sunshine.
My pulse becomes a drumline.
Layla
Bold of you to assume I’d let you kiss me again.
Reed
I’m not assuming anything.
I’m telling you that the next time I get you under my hands, I’m not stopping until you’re making every sound you tried to bite back the first time.
I bury my face in a pillow and squeal into it like a feral animal.
Layla
So, hypothetically, if I got a red-eye and came tonight…
You’d want that?
Reed
There’s nothing hypothetical about it.
Come early.
I want time alone with you.
I’ll pay for your flight. Come back to me.
I make a squeaky sound and immediately shove my fist into my mouth to keep from full-on shrieking.
My legs kick out on instinct, heels thumping against the bed as I roll onto my back, then onto my side, then back again because there is simply too much feeling in my body to stay still.
“Oh my God,” I whisper, my eyes burning, my smile so wide my cheeks ache. “Oh my God.”
My chest feels fizzy, sparkling, like I just downed champagne on an empty stomach.
I hug my phone to my sternum and squeeze, breathing him in through his words, as if that’s enough to hold me together.
My phone buzzes again, and I suck in a sharp breath, sitting upright as my hair falls into my face and I swipe the screen.
A screenshot of my flight details.
“He—” My voice cracks, barely louder than air. “He booked it?”
I read it again. And again. And again, because there’s no way this is real, and also because it very much is.
My hands start fluttering in front of me like they’ve lost all structural integrity, and I squeal, burying my face in my pillow so I don’t wake the entire building.
Layla
Reed, you didn’t have to pay for my flight
Reed
I wanted to. I’ll pick you up from the airport.
And I’m going to spend the entire 7 days reminding you exactly how you tasted when I had your lip between my teeth.
I gasp. I flop back onto the bed, kicking my feet like a psycho.
Dropping my phone in shock and arousal, I immediately retrieve it, remembering to message Brian, right? My fiancé. The one who hasn’t kissed me in... weeks? Months?
Layla
I’m going to Tennessee for a work trip. I’m leaving tonight.
The “Read” receipt pops up almost instantly.
Brian
Heyyy girlie, it’s Rebecca
Brian’s busy right now, but I’ll let him know, okay?
My stomach doesn’t drop; it doesn’t even twitch. But the sheer audacity, I scoff, choosing not to answer because what the actual fuck.
My phone buzzes again, and anger seeps through me, assuming it’s Brian, but it isn’t.
Reed
I can’t wait to see you, sunshine
Oh my God, he used an emoji.
AHHHHHHHHH. I mentally scream to myself, because if I were to scream out loud, my neighbors would call the cops.
My skin warms with excitement, as my heart steadies. I buzz with anticipation, excitement, nerves, and giddiness for another man.
Layla
Start counting down the hours
Throwing my phone onto my bed, I squeal with excitement. Before I can pack my backpack, I need to check my mail.
I clamp a hand over my mouth, my heart racing. The air still smells faintly of the coffee I left unfinished this morning, and the hum of the fridge is the only thing that answers me. My cheeks hurt from smiling.
I’ve never genuinely smiled this much in my life. My smiles for my content are always fake, performed. But with Reed? They come naturally.
I slip on my shoes, the rubber soles squeaking faintly against the wood, and grab my keys.
The hallway outside my apartment is quiet, with sunlight slanting through the high windows and dust motes floating lazily in the air.
I jog down the stairs, my excitement buzzing under my skin.
My footsteps echo as I head toward the mailroom, my pulse quickening with every step.
The wall of mailboxes comes into view; rows and rows of small metal doors, each dented or scratched, each holding someone’s life in envelopes.
I find mine, sticking the key in.
Jiggling it once, twice, I twist harder until the lock finally gives with a dull click. The door creaks open, metal scraping softly, and I lean in, peering inside.
A stack of mail waits for me, its edges uneven. I pull it out and rest it against my hip, flipping through it one piece at a time.
Electric bill, gross.
Health insurance bill, scam.
A grocery flyer I absolutely didn’t ask for.
My chest tightens just a little as the next envelope comes into view.
I slide it out carefully, my fingers catching on the edge for a second before it comes free. It’s heavier than the others, thicker somehow, and my thumb drifts over the ink without thinking.
The handwriting stops me cold. I know it. I’ve watched that hand wrap around a mug, grip a paintbrush, and rest against my hip.
Reed.
He wrote me back.
I press the envelope to my chest without thinking, my heart slamming so hard it makes me dizzy.
For a second, I stand there in the mailroom, surrounded by metal, concrete, and other people’s junk mail, trying to remember how to breathe.
Shoving the rest of the mail back into the box, I close it with a soft clang and float back upstairs.
Once inside my apartment, I lock the door, and the click echoes through the quiet. I lean back against it, staring down at the envelope in my hands, finally letting myself feel it.
I push off the door and cross the room slowly, heading into my bedroom. I sit on the edge of my bed and smooth the envelope against my thigh before turning it over in my hands.
Carefully, I break the seal.
First, a pressed sunflower falls out, and I instantly tear up. My fingers trace the dried flower, admiring its beauty.
Next, the paper inside slides out with a whisper, folded once. I unfold it, holding my breath, my heart pounding loud enough to feel in my ears.
Sunshine,
I don’t know when you’ll read this. I thought about waiting until I saw you again, but I didn’t want to.
I keep thinking about you. About the way you laughed that night. About the kiss. I don’t think I realized how much it would stay with me.
I miss you more than I expected to.
I’m not great at putting things into words, especially on paper, but I wanted you to know that I’m really looking forward to seeing you again.
I’ll be here when you get back.
— Reed
I read it again, slower this time.
The words don’t change, but the way they land does. They sink in, settling low in my chest. There’s no rush to them. No pressure. Just Reed, exactly as he is; honest, careful, choosing me in the quietest way possible.
I miss you more than I expected to.
Pressing the letter flat against my thigh, I stare at the far wall of my apartment.
I’ve had big feelings before—loud ones, messy ones that burned hot, fast, and left me dizzy.
This feels different. This feels like something that doesn’t need to announce itself to be real.
He isn’t asking me to promise anything. He isn’t demanding space in my life. He’s just… there. Waiting.
This is what it feels like to be missed without being needed. To be wanted without being chased.
I fold the letter carefully, smoothing the crease with my thumb, and tucking it back into the envelope.
Opening my closet, I carefully hid the letter in a box, pushing it behind my winter coats.
“Okay,” I whisper, turning to my empty room, my voice steady.
I grab my backpack and finally start packing, throwing whatever I grab from my drawers, not thinking because excitement is eating me away.
For the first time, I’m not nervous about what comes next.
I’m just ready to see him.
Crisp autumn air lingers on my skin as the faint rumble of cars moves along the interstate.
The outdoor lights cast long streaks of gold across the pavement, illuminating dust motes drifting lazily through the air.
I’m tugging on my backpack straps as I scan the passenger pickup zone. Reed said he’d be here.
I check each car for his truck until I spot Reed standing next to his matte black motorcycle.