Chapter 31 Birdie
Birdie
“How are things with Max going? You guys seem to be hitting it off?” Dawsen asks, breaking up the awkward silence I’ve put in the space between us.
We’re walking back to our room and the rain is still relentless, and I’m still wearing his coat, and I’m a little bit drunk, and Dawsen said I was beautiful.
“Ohh, yeah, totally, he’s really great.” I say, wondering what in the actual hell is going on.
“Good. I’m glad.”
“Yeah.” I agree, and we finish walking to our room in silence.
The smell of the rain feels therapeutic almost, and the crisp air bites at my nose and my belly is warm from the alcohol. I take a mental note of this feeling, and the way my chest aches with yearning for this man beside me and how he just asked me about Max—the guy I guess I’m kind of dating.
Dawsen slides the key card into the metal slot on the door and as the light turns green with a tiny beep, he pushes it open and does that thing where he wants me to enter first, but the door opens inward, so his arm is held high, pushing open the door, and I have to walk under his arm to enter.
Why is even that hot? I swear. Sometimes my body reacts to the tiniest things that man does for no reason at all.
Dawsen follows me into the room and makes sure the locks are locked.
He walks to the bed, grabbing the duvet folded across the end.
I’m watching him from the opposite side of the bed as he begins shaking out the blanket like he’s about to make a damn pillow bed on the floor.
It’s in this very moment that I realize I’m living a real life moment of my all time favorite romance novel trope. Only one bed. God help me, again.
“Oh hell no, Dawsen. You are not sleeping on the floor.” I say as I storm over to him, grabbing the duvet from him.
“I’m fine sharing the bed with you.” This comes out a little too eager, I fear.
“Are…are you… sure? I don’t mind the floor.” He asks, almost like he’s nervous.
“I don’t have cooties, Dawsen. I mean, I used to, but not anymore.” I wink and laugh, trying to lighten the tension.
I’m starting to realize the relationship between Dawsen and I is something unfamiliar and altogether a little confusing.
One minute it’s all banter, and prodding each other with snarky jokes and making each other laugh, then there’s the minutes where Dawsen is being thoughtful, and then the next minute there’s tension, like there’s words not being said, almost like we’re both unsure, trying to figure out what the other is thinking.
We’ve got some multi-layered communication styles and I don’t know what to make of any of it.
Dawsen laughs, “Hah, alright, as long as you’re comfortable with that.”
“I am.” I say, as I’m taking off Dawsen’s jacket and hanging it over the armchair in the corner.
I kick off my boots and then my socks, then pull down the bed sheet and slide underneath.
I absolutely hate sleeping in clothes, but my birthday suit is really not an option tonight, all things considered.
Even though there’s a part of me that very much would like that version of the night.
Yep, I’ve read one too many romance novels. Curse you, one bed, close proximity tropes!
Dawsen toes off his boots by the door and flicks off the lights. He pads over to the bed and I can feel the mattress shift as he lays down on top of the blankets.
It’s quiet and the only noise is coming from the rain tapping on the roof. The only light is a peek of moonlight seeping in between the blinds on the window.
“Dawsen. Just get under the covers. You’re going to freeze your ass off.”
He just groans and mumbles something under his breath, and I can’t help but laugh.
“What!!!” I ask, exasperated. He’s making the whole bed thing so weird.
He stands up and pulls back the covers and slides in. I think he’s hanging half off the bed with how far away from me he is. I get the whole ‘being a gentleman’ thing but like, I’m also fine with a little less of it in this case.
“Goodnight, Birdie.” He says, back facing me.
I turn on my side to face his back. The tiny sliver of moonlight peering in lands across that dark hair, just long enough to get your fingers tangled up in.
“Goodnight, Dawsen.”
* * *
I can’t sleep. I’ve been staring at the back of Dawsen’s head for an hour. This is so unlike me. I’m usually passed out as soon as my head hits the pillow. But for some reason, I’m wide awake.
Shit. Who am I trying to fool? I’m very much awake because I can’t stop thinking about what Dawsen said to me tonight.
“You’re the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen.
” Like, seriously? What is that shit? What’s he trying to do.
I’ve known him basically forever and he’s never once, not even remotely showed any semblance of attraction to me, or interest. Okay, I mean, I know that comment doesn’t mean he’s ‘interested’ but it does mean that he’s attracted to me.
That’s something right? And he did say I was ‘something’ too. Whatever that means.
“Can I ask you something?” I whisper.
Dawsen shifts onto his back, putting his hands behind his head as he looks up to the ceiling. “Anything.”
“You aren’t asleep?” I whisper again, but this time, I’m propping myself up on my side using my pillow and arm as a wedge.
He chuckles softly. “Nope.”
“So we’ve both just been lying here awake for an hour pretending we’re sleeping?”
“I’ve been trying to sleep but you’re being so loud over there.”
“I am not being loud! I’ve said no words! What are you talking about?” I say defensively, and suddenly wondering if I had dosed off and snored or something. I do that sometimes.
“You’ve said no words, but your thoughts are loud.” He says so matter-of-factually.
“Oh is that so? You can hear my thoughts now?” I say, proddingly.
“Ha, I’ve wished a time or two, but no—I can tell you’re not asleep because of your breathing. It wasn’t relaxed breathing.”
“Okay, hang on for a minute.” I say, sitting up and reaching to the bedside table and flicking the switch on the small lamp.
Dawsen adjusts his pillow and props himself up a bit, body turned towards me.
He’s looking at me and the yellow light is creating too cozy of an atmosphere, but I love it.
The way his skin looks under the glow of it, and how his eyes are fixed, like he’s just waiting for me to say something. So I do.
“Do you have a tattoo?” I want to talk about the whole beautiful thing, but I’m also very much thinking about what I saw earlier while he stood there, all glistening and taught muscles.
“I do.” He says, not offering much else.
I wait for a beat then press, “can I see it?”
He rolls onto his back from the side lying position he was just in as he pulls his t-shirt up, revealing a swallow in black ink.
It’s beautiful. The shading in the wings, and there’s a cherry blossom branch in it’s mouth.
I can’t help but notice a thick scar that cuts across one of it’s wings.
Without thinking, I reach out and trace the scar with my finger.
I feel his body tighten under my touch. I quickly draw my hand back and say, “I’m so sorry!
I didn’t think before I—“ he interrupts me, “it’s okay. I don’t mind.
” He says gently. I look at his eyes and then put my finger back on the thick scar.
“It’s from my accident.” He says somberly.
“This bird reminds me of me. She’s got a broken wing.” I say, with a soft, sympathetic smile.
“Why does that remind you of yourself, Birdie?” He says, turning his body towards me again. The way his brows are furrowed, he looks like a fierce protector right now. Like he already doesn’t like what I’m about to say.
“I just mean, it’s a bird, who should be able to fly and be free and be who she wants to be.
But she’s got a broken wing. I guess I just feel like that.
But my broken wing is never measuring up.
Never quite achieving the dream. Ya know?
” I hate how insecure I sound. I never want to come across that way, especially to him. I feel vulnerable with that admission.
“Your wings aren’t broken, Bird. You just flew to the wrong place for a little while.” He says, as his hand reaches out to grab mine. He rubs his thumb against the top of my hand and my eyes go there immediately.
“When you said I was beautiful tonight. Was that all you meant by that? Like, that you just think I’m pretty and that’s all?”
He brings his hands to his face and rubs his eyes. There’s a minute of hesitation before he speaks.
“No, that’s not all.” I’m suddenly nervous. My body feels like I’m at the highest peak of a roller coaster and my heart is clicking it’s way to the top and I’m wondering if I shouldn’t have asked that question.
“Not even close.” He’s not looking at me.
“What do you mean?” I nudge him with my foot under the covers.
“Birdie. You’ve always been a lot more to me than just River’s little sister. I know you’ve always shrunk yourself into that category. But to me, you’ve always been Birdie Banks. The most beautiful girl I’ll ever see. And you just happen to be my best friend’s little sister.”
I’ve always lived a little bit in River’s shadow.
He’s always been the golden boy. And I don’t fault him for that.
I love River. He’s truly such a good guy.
And he’s popular for a reason. He’s charming, funny and he’s got the biggest heart.
I never really minded being in his shadow.
But hearing these words from Dawsen right now, that he’s never seen me as living in a shadow—it’s something I didn’t even know I needed healing from until right now.
I reach over and poke his chest, needing to deflate some of this tension.
“How do you know I’m the most beautiful girl you’ll ever see? It’s impossible. You haven’t seen them all.”
“Don’t have to.” He says, so matter of fact.
I can’t say for sure, but I think my whole face is a shade of red.
“Don’t do that.” He says, sitting up now.
I just look at him, confused.
“Don’t do what?” I need the clarification.
“You’re trying to shrink yourself again.”
I laugh, kind of annoyed that he called me on my shit, because I definitely have a habit of that.
“You’re fucking gorgeous, Birdie, but that’s obvious to any person with a set of eyes.
And if you weren’t dating someone right now, and if it wasn’t impossible, I’d tell you that I meant a whole lot more when I said that in the bar.
What I’d actually meant is that you’re the one woman I’ve ever truly wanted.
You’re magnetic and I can’t resist the pull you have on me.
And it fucking kills me that I can’t have you for myself. ”
My mouth is dry. I can’t speak. My brain might be short-circuiting.
What.In.The.Fuck.
The man I’ve always thought was sort of indifferent to me… the man I’ve always wanted… its telling me he wants me too? My head feels hot and suddenly my limbs feel heavy and it almost feels like I can feel the blood coursing through my veins.
“Why have you never said anything to me?” I ask, my voice cracking a little bit from the sting of it all.
“I wanted to, plenty of times. But every time I was going to, something was in the way.” A long pause happened, and my heart aches knowing that all this time, all these years that I’ve wanted Dawsen Jones—he’s wanted me too.
“Then when you moved to the city, and the accident happened, any possibility of that happening died too. And quite honestly, I still shouldn’t be saying any of this.
You have a boyfriend, and this whole thing is so shitty of me.
The beers just altered my sense of will power I guess.
” He says, running his fingers through his hair, then bringing them to the back of his neck. He seems tense. He seems unsettled.
“First of all, I don’t have a boyfriend. Max and I have gone on one date. Let me just get that clear.” I say, holding out my thumb like I’m going to start listing points.
I’ve crossed my legs and sat up straighter to face him. I’m almost peering down at him in his laid back position.
“And second. Do you know how hard it is for me to hear this right now? You do realize how many years I’ve spent thinking about you? Going on dates with men and comparing every single one of them to you, knowing they’re just never going measure up?” I take a breath.
“Then I come home, and there you are again—” Dawsen reaches over and sets his hand on my knee as if to get me to stop talking. I look at his hand, then at his eyes that have turned dark.
“Bird. Don’t say this, please. I want you, I’ve made that foolishly clear tonight. But it’s just not possible. I can’t take knowing you feel even remotely the same way that I do. It’s just going to torture me.”
I’m confused. Why is he so set on this not happening. Why won’t he let this happen.
“Why is it impossible?” I say, my heart deflating, but my voice is inflating.
He sighs, and removes the covers, and stands up from the bed. He’s looking at me, and there’s just sadness spread across his face. And his body.
“Fuck, I should have never said anything tonight. This isn’t fair to you, Bird. I’m sorry.”
My throat feels thick, and my eyes sting. This all feels so unfair. He’s dangling his feelings and bearing his soul to me like bait, and now he’s retreating. Reeling it back in tightly. It’s hurting. Whatever is happening. Whatever strange thing is happening, and none of it is making sense.
“I’m gonna take a lap. I just need some air.” He turns and walks out the door. His jacket is still hanging over the chair.
I grab my phone off the side table and swipe open my text conversation with Casey, trying to catch my breath, needing comfort.
Me: Case. SOS. Dawsen and I had some beers tonight, and he ended up telling me that he has feelings for me. Or had. I don’t even know what’s going on right now but I’m spiraling and I feel like I’m going to have a panic attack.
I wait anxiously, hoping she’s awake. I stare at the screen and then relief hits me as soon as I see the little jumping dots appear.
Casey: Wait. What?!??!?!? How, When, WHAT. DETAILS, DAMMIT.
Me: Tonight’s cocktail of events: Beer. Rain. Romantic Lighting. Vulnerability? He said “You’re the only woman I’ve ever wanted.”
Me: Then he said, “it fucking kills me that I can’t have you for myself.”
Casey: Welll shit. Did you tell him he could have you ;)
Me: I was trying to. Then he got all weird, stopped me, and he left the room to go on a walk.
Casey: Smooth moves, Daws.
Me: Casey, I’m freaking out.
Casey: I don’t know, Bird. He’s always been broody like that. Can’t you just ask him what he means?
Me: He just walked in. I’ll call you in the morning.
Casey: Love you, good luck. ;)