Chapter 20 Dawsen
Dawsen
I couldn’t sleep a single minute last night because I was way too fucking consumed with thoughts of Birdie and Max and what they were doing, where she was at, and if she had spare panties or if she wasn’t wearing any at all, and if she was laughing at his jokes, and how I could just punch him square in the face for even looking at her.
I finish lacing up my running shoes and use my thumb and my middle finger to press into my eyelids, willing myself to stand up and run these thoughts out of my head.
I know I shouldn’t have texted her while she was on a date, and I definitely shouldn’t have sent her a selfie while holding her left behind panties—I know it’s messed up—but I wanted to be on her mind while she was with him.
And imagine my surprise when I went to take a shower and see the red lace thong on the floor of my bathroom.
* * *
While Birdie was living in the city, living her own life, away from me, it was easier to compartmentalize my feelings.
To put them in a little box, lock it up, and hide the key.
They’ll always be there, just sitting, waiting for me to release them, but now that she’s here, whirling about my business, my life, she’s all encompassing, and I’ve not even unlocked that metaphorical box.
She’s got that power over me. I’m down bad, and I’m not even sorry about it.
I just don’t know what to do with it. How about quit being a pussy and just make some moves.
My internal monologue is brutal, and I won’t let myself do that. Ever.
* * *
My jog turned into a breezy, fucking freezing 6 miles. My fingers are frozen, I can’t feel my ears. And my face hurts. Perfect. Just the type of torture I like—controlled.
I’m rounding the corner of my building, looking down at my watch when I run straight into Birdie. Like, with force. Her face, meeting my chest, and her coffee, hitting the ground, splashing all over her white leather cowgirl boots.
“Oh my shit, I’m so sorry Dawsen!” She says, flustered, wiping my shirt with her hands, attempting to wipe off the slosh of coffee that landed on me.
I can’t help but let out a breathy chuckle at her attempt that is doing absolutely nothing to clean the mess, other than maybe even making it worse, and I’m also not complaining, as I watch her dainty fingers splayed across my stomach.
“Good morning, Birdie Banks. Fancy seeing you here.” I say through a smile, as I look down at her. She’s taking inventory of everything she’s holding, and still fumbling with an empty coffee mug. She’s laughing in a sort of self-deprecating way, which she tends to do pretty often.
“I am so so sorry Dawsen, I just didn’t see you coming, It’s early, I didn’t expect anyone to be like…
running? Wait, why are you running? It’s fucking freezing.
” She rambles, and I reach down and place my hand under her elbow, straightening her.
I give a little nod to the front doors of the mercantile, signaling for us to move that way.
“Let’s get you inside, and we can get your boots wiped off.
” I break the contact and grab my keys and mess with the lock.
I can feel her standing close behind me, and I add, “And I can get you a refill. And you can tell me what you’re doing here this early.
” I look over my shoulder, smiling at her as I push open the door.
She’s giving me a tight lipped smile back and in true Birdie fashion, I know she’s feeling clumsy and embarrassed right now.
Birdie has always been a sort of klutz, her entire life, and I mean that in the truest sense of the word.
I don’t really know if there’s been a day in her life that she hasn’t tripped, spilled, fell, rammed into someone, you know—things clumsy people do.
Her family has teased her about it her whole life, in good fun of course, but I know it’s an insecurity of hers.
I’d also be lying if I said this was the first time I’ve been victim to her klutziness.
In high school, we had a situation just like this actually, but it was her lunch tray landing on the brand new pair of Vans I had gotten for Christmas that year.
They were covered in chocolate milk and pizza.
She offered to buy me a new pair, but I refused.
I wore those Vans into the damn ground and on their final day you could still see a faint smattering of brown from the chocolate milk.
I think it’s so damn cute, I can’t help but laugh any time I get to witness it.
And hell, I’d take being the one she falls into everyday if I could.
I’d be right there to catch her and put her back on her two feet, and then I’d kiss those rosy, freckled cheeks and let her know that I’ll always be there to catch her.
“Dawsen, You’re soaked in latte. I can be such a baby giraffe sometimes, I’m so sorry.” She groans.
We’re walking towards the back of the shop to the door that leads to the stairs of my loft. I turn and let out laugh, hoping to make her feel at ease, and like I’m not at all bothered about what just happened, because this is actually turning out to be a great day so far.
“A baby giraffe?!” I laugh, and question, needing more explanation. She laughs, “Yes! Have you ever seen a baby giraffe walk? Their gangly legs just going all over the place, they can barely stand upright.” I smile at her before turning to lead us up the stairs.
“Your legs are a lot of things, but gangly isn’t one of them.” I just look at that sweet face looking at me, as a soft smile appears, and I can tell she wants to press me on what I just said, but I break off her thoughts and say, “Come on, let’s get you cleaned up.”
As we head up the stairs, I’m trying to recollect how I left things this morning?
I definitely wasn’t a slob by any means, I’ve always been sort of a neat freak, but I was also being a moody bitch last night and wallowing, and didn’t pick up the pieces of said wallowing.
Not totally thrilled about her seeing pieces of me being a slob, I turn on my heel before I let us in, looking down at her, “Ahh, I’m sorry about the mess in there,” hiking up a thumb over my shoulder pointing to the door.
She rolls those big beautiful eyes at me, “I was just here last night. Did you throw a rager after I left or something?”
I liked the sound of those words coming out of her mouth, “I was just here last night.” — She had a point.
But I did manage to finish off a few more beers and I’m pretty sure those were strewn about my coffee table next to the take out boxes.
“Alright, fair.” I say, turn and unlock the door.
I swing open the door, using my foot to prop it open.
“Ladies first.” I say, giving her a little nod.
She juts her chin up at me and smiles, “Thank you, good sir.”
“Make yourself comfortable.” I say, pointing her towards the couch.
She quietly agrees and pads across the room, arranging the throw pillows on my sofa and then takes a seat.
I waste no time and make my way into the living room, picking up the bottles and take out boxes from the coffee table directly in front of her.
“Sorry about this.” I say as I’m strategically picking it all up.
“I kind of figured you were just a meat and veggies kind of guy—not a number five and a number twelve from The Happy Panda.” I laugh and teasingly say, “Are you body shaming me right now, Banks?” That got her to laugh, “Hardly… in a roundabout way I’m doing the opposite actually.
” Not going to lie, that feels good. I toss this stuff in the trash, grab a microfiber towel from the cupboard and head back into the living room, taking a seat on the coffee table directly in front of Birdie.
“Ohh, so you’re saying I’ve got a body that doesn’t look like a regular patron of Saddlebrooke’s finest Chinese food establishment?
” Her cheeks are even more red now, and she’s laughing.
“No! Well, yeah, I mean, for heaven’s sake Dawsen, the whole reason I’m even sitting on your couch right now is because I ran into you while you were all sweating and steamy from exercise.
” I smirk at her, my full attention on her, just loving every damn minute of having her here like this.
I sit down on the wooden coffee table in front of her and pat my knee, signaling for her to put her booted foot on it so I can clean the coffee splatters.
She catches my drift, as she sets her foot on my knee, looking slightly embarrassed.
“Wow, you’re totally calling me hot right now, Birdie Banks.
” I continue to tease her, as I wipe away the coffee, which has wiped clean pretty easily, but I’m enjoying the contact, so I’m making slow work of it.
She reaches forward and flicks me on the shoulder.
“Oh my gosh Daws! I am not saying or not saying anything, I’m only saying that I, along with any human with eyes, knows that you take your fitness seriously.
” She covers her face with her hands and groans as I just laugh.
“I’m not hitting on you, okay!” She exclaims through a chuckle and a groan.
I tap my other knee, letting one booted foot down, asking for the next, when I say “Well, that’s a shame.
” I just wink at her and we settle into a couple moments of silence.
I know I shouldn’t be so shamelessly flirting with her.
I know it. I know better, but I’m a weak man.
I can’t be around her like this, because all I so badly want to do is play and tease and wrap her up in everything good. But that can’t happen. I won’t let it.
“You know, I’m actually glad I ran into you… not physically, but like, I’m glad to be seeing you because I was needing to talk to you about something actually.” Birdie says, as I finish wiping the coffee splatters from the white leather.