Chapter 37 Birdie
Birdie
He looked happy. He looked like he felt lighter. There was something different in his eyes, and I couldn’t figure it out. What changed?
But here we are, three hours from now, Dawsen Jones will be picking me up to take me on a date. What even is life. I think I’m short circuiting. This cannot be real.
There’s no sense in staying in bed, it’s not like I’ll be getting any more sleep.
I think that would be physically impossible with the way my entire body has reacted to this series of events.
It’s time for coffee, I decide. I walk down the hallway and I can hear my parents downstairs.
I basically sprint down the steps until I’m in the kitchen.
Mom is pouring herself a cup of coffee and my dad is sitting at the island reading the morning paper.
I love that no matter how old I get, it almost feels like time stands still when I’m back home.
Mom and dad in the kitchen sipping their coffee and reading the paper.
This is what they did when I was a kid, and they’re still doing it now, they’re just slightly more grey.
But the love that buzzes in these walls remains the same.
“You’re up early!” Mom exclaims when she sees me standing in the doorway.
“Dawsen is taking me on a date this morning.” I say, like it’s the most normal occurrence in the world.
Both of my parents heads turn towards me in unison, it’s like something from a sitcom.
“Wow, you wasted no time, sweetheart.” My dad says proudly, with a huge grin.
“No, he asked me. Last night. He showed up here a little after midnight.”
My mom laughs, “Well, that’s lovely sweetheart. You both can tell us all about it at Christmas Eve dinner tonight as well. Dawsen and Crawford will be joining us.” She says, winking at me.
“Well, this is all so exciting.” My dad says, setting his paper down and taking a sip of coffee.
I’m just standing there, looking at the both of them, suddenly feeling my eyes go wide and my mouth go dry.
“I think she’s in shock.” My mom says to my dad, like I’m not standing here.
“That’s what love’ll do to ya.” My dad drawls as he turns the page on his paper.
“I think I need coffee.” I say, making my way over to the coffee pot. I pull down a mug from the shelf and start pouring.
I can feel my parent’s gazes on me.
“Okay, I’m going to get ready then.” I say, awkwardly and bolt back upstairs.
* * *
Three hours and one very long Face Time call with Casey later, I hear a knock at the front door. My stomach drops and I feel like I’m about to climb onto a roller coaster. The kind that flips and twists and makes me feel like I’m surely going to die.
Getting ready was harder than normal because for starters, I’ve been dreaming of this moment for as long as I can remember, but I never pictured this day happening with four inches of snow on the ground, so my outfit options are limited.
I don’t know why I only pictured dating Dawsen in the summer, but that’s something I’ll psychoanalyze later.
I opted for my fleece lined black leggings, and my black biker boots, and a scoop neck long sleeve top.
All black, but paired with my Sherpa lined denim jacket and my burnt orange beanie.
I look simple, but still cute, and I should be mostly warm.
I’ve always been the kind of girl who chose fashion over function.
I am who I am and I won’t apologize for it. Even if I do freeze.
I hear the door open downstairs and I can hear my dad and Dawsen’s voices greeting each other.
My body is freezing up and I feel more nervous with each passing second.
The reality of me having to go downstairs and to actually be on this date is becoming increasingly more real and my nerves are at an all time high.
I think my mom was right— I’ve been in a state of shock and it’s wearing off now.
I prop myself up on my hands and stare at myself in my vanity mirror. I give myself one last look over, I straighten, and spritz a few more sprays of perfume on my neck. I take a deep breath and head for what I hope is the first day of my life.
I take the steps downstairs much slower than I did this morning, and I can hear Dawsen’s voice now coming from the kitchen. He’s laughing at something my dad said, and I can hear my mom’s voice, “It’s going to be great having you and your dad here for dinner tonight. I’m making lasagna.”
“That sounds great, What can I bring? Wine? I’d love to contribute something.”
“Wine would be lovely!”
I interject, “good morning!” Everyone’s heads turn towards me, but my eyes are on Dawsen. He’s wearing brown corduroy pants, his boots, and a navy blue Henley under his trucker jacket. His hair is perfectly mussed, like he ran pomade through it this morning, and his face is clean shaven.
He looks downright sinful.
“Hi, Birdie!” His face brightens and he walks over to me and brings me into a hug in just one impressive stride. I’m pressed up against his chest and I inhale his woodsy scent and I want to live in it.
He pulls back and looks down at me, his hand still on one side of my waist.
“You hungry?”
I smile up at him, “Starving.”
The way he’s so effortlessly slid into being so affectionate with me makes warmth spread into my belly. He’s touching me like he’s been doing this forever. He’s touching me the way I’ve dreamt of him touching me forever.
Dawsen leads me to the passenger side of his truck, that he left on and running.
He opens the door for me, and I slide in.
He closes the door and runs around the front to his side and slams the door once he jumps in.
He rubs his hands together and looks at me, just grinning.
He’s grinning like a schoolboy. His face is beautiful.
I can’t look away and I already know that I’ll never get enough of giddy Dawsen.
“Are you warm enough?” He asks as he rubs his hands together like flint, and brings them to his lips.
“It’s so toasty, thank you!” I say, sliding into the middle of the bench seat, like I did when he brought me home that one night.
He looks over at me with a small smirk on his face as he’s pulling back onto the street.
“Is this ok? Sitting here?” I signal between us.
“Yeah, it’s perfect.” He says, as he reaches his arm behind me over the back of the seat.
“I’m sorry I’m not taking you anywhere special. Mel’s is the only breakfast place open on Christmas Eve apparently.”
“Mel’s is my favorite.” I nudge him with my elbow.
There’s silence between us. But not the uncomfortable kind.
In fact, it’s the very comfortable kind.
The same silence that sat between us on our trip to Munsen.
Just the cozy hum of Bon Iver spilling from the stereo, and our mutual silence that is saying so many things.
For me, it’s saying— “I can’t believe this is happening. It’s. Happening. Holy Shit.”
“I can’t believe this is happening.” Dawsen says, breaking the silence and apparently also reading my mind.
“I know. I can’t believe I agreed to this.” I smirk at him, and he nudges me with his shoulder and I zing from his touch.
“You smell really good. I mean, you always smell really good but it always felt like it would be weird if I had told you that before now.” I say, rambling—of course.
“Birdie, I’ve refused to wash the damn jacket I brought with us to Munsen because I can still smell you on it.” I blush at his admission.
Dawsen smiles while keeping his eyes on the road as we pull up to Mel’s Diner.
He pulls into the lot behind the building and manages to pull into a spot close to the entrance.
He shifts the car into park and unbuckles his seat belt in almost one continuous motion.
He shifts on the seat, his knee bumping into the side of my leg, and his arm still draped over the seat behind me.
His face turns into something more serious, but not in that painful serious look of his.
This is a look of yearning. And oh, it looks so good on him and he has my full attention.
“I have wanted to be in this very moment with you for years. I’ve imagined it in so many different ways, and I will be completely honest and tell you that I’m scared shitless.
I’m scared I’m going to fuck this up. And I also want you to know that I’m really sorry for how long it took me to get here, to this place, with us.
” His eyes are so beautiful, and they’re locked on mine.
I’ve never been able to look into them this way, to really look, to count the gold flecks in them, to be so intimately close to these eyes.
It feels surreal. It feels like a dream.
It feels like I suddenly have permission to do everything I’ve always imagined doing with him.
The flirty touching, the looking, the middle seat.
I have so much I want to say in response to his vulnerability, but this moment doesn’t need words, so I do something I’ve dreamt of doing for as long as I can remember.
I bring my hand to the side of his face, and rub my thumb in gentle strokes across his cheek and I feel him press into my palm ever so slightly.
The warmth of his skin sends a fluttering feeling through my core.
I move my fingers into his hair and pull him closer.
Our foreheads are touching, and without hesitation, I bring my lips to his, it’s tender, like we’re trying to savor every detail, like we’ve been waiting years for this, and then my lips part for him, and it turns desperate.
I feel his breathing go ragged, his hands sliding into my hair, we’re a tangle of fingers in hair, and our tongues are in perfect rhythm as I part for him, and then him for me.
I let out a whimper, and he pulls back slightly, his eyes look dark and he gives me a smile from the corner of his mouth.
He lifts my chin up softly towards him as he brings his lips back to mine, softly this time, “that noise you just made—sexiest thing I’ve ever heard.”