Page 120 of Our Long Days
This is anything but normal.
Dex waits for me by the hood of his truck, wearing a nervous smile. Thankfully, his casual wardrobe matches my leggings and hooded sweatshirt.
“Hello.” I approach him slowly, nervous for reasons beyond me. We’re well past the first date stage. As always, he’s going out of his way to bring me a little drop of joy.
I jump out of my skin when he offers me his hand.
“Hi, my name's Dexter.” He winks, but other than that, histone is dead serious. “I’m thirty-five, I own a construction company that specializes in log cabins, though on occasions, beautiful women mistake me for a lumberjack. Oh, I’m also a Cancer Sun, Taurus Rising—whatever that means.”
Giggling like an eighth grader, I shake his hand, not correcting that he’s a Taurus Sun, Cancer Rising. “Florence, nice to meet you. Twenty-four. Personal assistant. Scorpio Sun, Aquarius Rising.”
“Ah, perfect match.” I try not to laugh at his complete lack of knowledge about astrology and nod along. “Florence is a pretty name. Did you know it translates to flourish or blossom in Latin?”
“I do now.” With his rough skin on mine, I relax.
He checks his watch then ushers me to the passenger door. Wildfire ignites my skin at the simple touch. Right before I climb in, I turn, foot on the running board so our eyes are level. “This isn’t necessary.”
His gaze softens. “It is.”
“But why? You know almost everything about me. We don’t need to date.” I stare at him.
He tilts his head. “Exactly.Almosteverything. I want to know all there is to learn about Florence Abigail Sadler.”
I fake a gasp, hand clutched to my chest. “I never told you my middle name. Stalker.”
He huffs a laugh. “Get in the truck, Trouble.”
Hearing him use that nickname for the first time in days is music to my ears. I glow the entire drive.
After a short drive, we pull up in the parking lot of Shirley’s, the sun sinking below the horizon. I’m about to tease him for bringing me to a bar for our first date when I notice the large white sheet pinned to the side of the brick building and the bright lights coming from the projector.
Arm slung over the back of the bench, he reverses in front of it and cuts the engine.
The night is better than anything I could’ve imagined.
We watchThe Princess Bridewith subtitles, cozied up under a blanket.
Through the entire movie, Dex holds my hand, nothing more.
And when he walks me to the front door of the A-frame, he doesn’t drop the gentleman act.
Thumbs hooked into the front pockets of his jeans, he stands at the bottom of the steps. “Thank you for a lovely evening, Florence.”
I’m glowing head to toe. “Thank you, Dexter.”
He lets out a content sigh and breaks the act. “Business classes, huh?”
My cheeks scorch under the late July moon. He saw my additions to the list. “I’m not even sure I want to go to college, but it can’t hurt.”
“I’m fucking proud of you.” His smile is so big, the overgrown hairs on his top lip must tickle his nose. “Anyway, long drive home. I’ll let you get some sleep.”
“Good night,” I say, smiling.
I didn’t think my cheeks could ache more until his steps pause, words confident.
“You’re beautiful. I love you.”
Heart beating erratically, I go inside. Then, realization hits me.
