Page 60 of My Best Years

I crawled out of bed at 3:00 a.m. and paced back and forth before texting her old phone number, hoping it would still be the same. As soon as I hit send, I got an automatic reply saying the number was out of service. It was probably for the best since I promised her I would stop acting like a damn stalker.

Other than my job, all I’ve thought about over the past fourteen days is Birdie Wren.

I can’t get the visual of that little yellow dress she was wearing out of my head. I lost count of how many nights I’ve fucked my fist to images of her in that dress. I fantasize about pushing the thin cotton up her smooth thighs before ripping her panties off and sinking inside of her.

It’s been so fucking long since I’ve actually enjoyed sex. I’ve basically been walking around with blue balls for eleven years.

Birdie always looks beautiful, but God, she took my breath away. Her in that dress puts every Alabama sunset to shame.

I can’t stop replaying our conversation. She doesn’t owe me a damn thing, but she still showed me an immense amount of kindness. Her caring and protective side came out, even though I tore her heart to pieces.

When she said she wanted to kill my father with her bare hands, I believed every word. I could see the anger in her eyes.

And I can’t lie… Seeing her get so defensive of me turned methe hell on. She’s gotten feistier over the years, and I loved seeing that side of her.

I look down at my phone and start typing out a message, knowing that if I don’t do it now, I won’t be able to reply until this evening. My pulse echoes through my ears as my thumbs fly across the screen.

Hey Birdie, it’s great to hear from you. I’d love to get coffee this week. You just let me know what works best for you.

My adrenaline spikes as the text bubble appears, letting me know she’s immediately texting back. I chew on the inside of my cheek, feeling giddy at the thought of her waiting by the phone.

How about tomorrow?

My smile grows even wider. I thought she was going to be the one to ghost me this time, but maybe she’s just as eager as me.

Tomorrow sounds great. Do you have a place in mind?

I was thinking we could go to Sandy Spoon Café. I’ve been wanting to try it.

Sandy’s is great. You’ll love it. Just tell me what time, and I’ll be there.

How about 9:00 a.m.? FYI, I'll be in my scrubs since I’ll be heading straight to work after.

She adds a laughing face emoji at the end of her text.

If she only knew the way I truly felt about her work uniform… One day, if I get the chance, I plan to tell her exactly what I think before ripping said scrubs off her body.

You look perfect in everything, Birdie Wren. You don’t ever have to justify what you’re wearing to me.

I would bet a million dollars that she’s blushing and biting down on her bottom lip as she reads my text. She always does when I call her by her first and middle name.

Says the guy who wears a full suit to work… lol. Thank you, though. I don’t feel as bad about my grimy scrubs now.

I’ll dress casual tomorrow just for you. Jeans and a T-shirt it is.

Without thinking, I add a winky face emoji, then feel stupid after I hit send.

I never fucking use emojis. But here I am, sending them without a second thought.

How chivalrous of you. What a true gentleman.

A laugh bubbles up my throat as I chuckle at her sarcasm. My cheeks strain from the smile spanning across my face as I think of something clever to text back. But right before my thumbs hit the screen, I get another text from her.

About to head in to see a new patient. My lunch break is up, so the rest of my day will be chaotic. I’ll see you in the morning. Just text me if your plans change.

Over my dead fucking body.

My plans won’t change, Birdie. I’ll be there, bright and early.

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