Page 12 of Phoenix

They say dogs are man’s best friend, well I’m a firm believer a solid vibrator is without a doubt a woman’s best friend.

I turn to my side, tucking pillows all around me, and let my tired eyes rest, all the while thinking about that night with Case in Savannah last year.

“You’re bluffing,” he says, holding his cards in front of his face.

“If you’re so sure, call it, big guy.” I hold my cards up, staring down at my hand.

There’s a crisp one hundred-dollar bill on the line, as well as his pride after telling me he’s phenomenal at poker.

I just had to call him on the carpet, steal his pride, and his money in the process.

The people in the bar around us have started to form a crowd, anxious to see if the big, bad Officer Carmichael would finally lose a hand at five-card. It’s so quiet you could hear a pin drop.

“You made a mistake, baby.” He lays down his cards to reveal his hand.

A full house.

I feign shock, like I’m realizing I’m going to lose.

“Wow. That’s a fucking phenomenal hand,” I say. “And don’t call me baby.” I reach over and take his shot of Jack, which he’s been waiting to down, into my hands. He calls it his “lucky shot” because, apparently, he takes one every time he wins a hand. “And give me your money.”

I slam my cards over, revealing my royal flush, and when cheers and laughter erupt around us, I pour his victory shot down my throat.

“No way! You have to be kidding me!” he says, as the crowd around him ribs him for finally losing.

“I don’t kid.” I swipe the money from the table, tuck it in my purse, and smile. “I only win.”

“You’re amazing. Did you know that?” he asks.

“So I’ve been told.”

I jerk awake as my alarm buzzes loudly by my ear. I blindly reach over to grab my phone and shut it off, glancing at the time as I do.

5:15 p.m.

I kill the alarm then toss my phone to the pillow next to me.

Of course, I would dream about Case. That night was one of the most fun in my life, until a fight broke out on the street outside between two tourists.

And Case inserted himself right in the middle of it, trying to defuse the tension and break it up.

Then when he tried to kiss me later that evening, I remembered that feeling: the racing heart shattering with every second that passed after my father disappeared into the building. The fear of watching someone play hero. The anxiety it brings, and because of that, I gave him my cheek.

I was leaving two days after that, and I could so easily fall for him.

My heart couldn’t take it.

I gave him my cheek, avoided him for two days, then came home. Protecting my heart seemed to be more important than a fling that would ultimately never work out anyway.

My secondary alarm goes off again and I literally groan.

One day, I swear, I will no longer have to pull night shifts in the ER.

But that day, unfortunately, is not today.

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