40. Rosalyn

FORTY

ROSALYN

I lift my head to look out my bedroom window, toward the St. Paul skyline.

Me: That's not too far.

Nathan: So you'll come.

I drop my head back down.

Me: I'll try.

Nathan: Promise me.

My fingers hesitate over the screen.

Me: I have a job tomorrow. If something goes wrong, I could still be working at 8.

It's mostly true. Though I doubt anything would keep me that late.

Nathan: I can wait all night.

He' s not going to let this go.

And if I'm honest with myself, I don't want him to.

Me: Fine. If I'm going to be late, I'll let you know.

I lower my phone onto my chest and roll my neck so I'm staring at my closed closet door.

My phone vibrates.

And keeps vibrating. With a call.

My poor pulse skips again.

Nathan is calling me.

Nathan. Is calling me.

I sit up.

We were texting. He doesn't need to call.

The phone continues to vibrate.

I take a deep breath. And press the button to accept.

"Hi, Rosie."

My eyes roll back.

Saying hi should not sound that erotic.

I hold the phone a few inches from my ear so he hopefully can't hear how out of breath I feel. "Hi, Nathan."

He lets out a short hum of appreciation that I feel in my nipples. "I just need to hear you say it."

"Your name?" I ask quietly.

Another hum, with a hint of humor. "No, though, that was a nice bonus. I need to hear you promise you'll come tomorrow night."

I swallow as his voice vibrates through the phone against my palm.

"I promise," I whisper. Meaning it.

"Good girl." His words crawl across the line. "Sweet dreams, Pretty Rosie."

Then he hangs up.

And I reach into my drawer.