Page 46 of Until Next Time
“Ha, I’ve wished a time or two, but no—I can tell you’re not asleep because of your breathing. It wasn’t relaxed breathing.”
“Okay, hang on for a minute.” I say, sitting up and reaching to the bedside table and flicking the switch on the small lamp.
Dawsen adjusts his pillow and props himself up a bit, body turned towards me. He’s looking at me and the yellow light is creating too cozy of an atmosphere, but I love it. The way his skin looks under the glow of it, and how his eyes are fixed, like he’s just waiting for me to say something. So I do.
“Do you have a tattoo?” I want to talk about the wholebeautifulthing, but I’m also very much thinking about what I saw earlier while he stood there, all glistening and taught muscles.
“I do.” He says, not offering much else.
I wait for a beat then press, “can I see it?”
He rolls onto his back from the side lying position he was just in as he pulls his t-shirt up, revealing a swallow in black ink. It’s beautiful. The shading in the wings, and there’s a cherry blossom branch in it’s mouth. I can’t help but notice a thick scar that cuts across one of it’s wings. Without thinking, I reach out and trace the scar with my finger. I feel his body tighten under my touch. I quickly draw my hand back and say, “I’m so sorry! I didn’t think before I—“ he interrupts me, “it’s okay. I don’t mind.” He says gently. I look at his eyes and then put my finger back on the thick scar.
“It’s from my accident.” He says somberly.
“This bird reminds me of me. She’s got a broken wing.” I say, with a soft, sympathetic smile.
“Why does that remind you of yourself, Birdie?” He says, turning his body towards me again. The way his brows are furrowed, he looks like a fierce protector right now. Like he already doesn’t like what I’m about to say.
“I just mean, it’s a bird, who should be able to fly and be free and be who she wants to be. But she’s got a broken wing. I guess I just feel like that. But my broken wing is never measuring up. Never quite achieving the dream. Ya know?” I hate how insecureI sound. I never want to come across that way, especially to him. I feel vulnerable with that admission.
“Your wings aren’t broken, Bird. You just flew to the wrong place for a little while.” He says, as his hand reaches out to grab mine. He rubs his thumb against the top of my hand and my eyes go there immediately.
“When you said I was beautiful tonight. Was that all you meant by that? Like, that you just think I’m pretty and that’s all?”
He brings his hands to his face and rubs his eyes. There’s a minute of hesitation before he speaks.
“No, that’s not all.” I’m suddenly nervous. My body feels like I’m at the highest peak of a roller coaster and my heart is clicking it’s way to the top and I’m wondering if I shouldn’t have asked that question.
“Not even close.” He’s not looking at me.
“What do you mean?” I nudge him with my foot under the covers.
“Birdie. You’ve always been a lot more to me than just River’s little sister. I know you’ve always shrunk yourself into that category. But to me, you’ve always been Birdie Banks. The most beautiful girl I’ll ever see. And you justhappento be my best friend’s little sister.”
I’ve always lived a little bit in River’s shadow. He’s always been the golden boy. And I don’t fault him for that. I love River. He’s truly such a good guy. And he’s popular for a reason. He’s charming, funny and he’s got the biggest heart. I never really minded being in his shadow. But hearing these words from Dawsen right now, that he’s never seen me as living in a shadow—it’s something I didn’t even know I needed healing from until right now.
I reach over and poke his chest, needing to deflate some of this tension.
“How do you know I’m the most beautiful girl you’ll ever see? It’s impossible. You haven’t seen them all.”
“Don’t have to.” He says, so matter of fact.
I can’t say for sure, but I think my whole face is a shade of red.
“Don’t do that.” He says, sitting up now.
I just look at him, confused.
“Don’t do what?” I need the clarification.
“You’re trying to shrink yourself again.”
I laugh, kind of annoyed that he called me on my shit, because I definitely have a habit of that.
“You’re fucking gorgeous, Birdie, but that’s obvious to any person with a set of eyes. And if you weren’t dating someone right now, and if it wasn’t impossible, I’d tell you that I meant a whole lot more when I said that in the bar. What I’d actually meant is that you’re the one woman I’ve ever truly wanted. You’re magnetic and I can’t resist the pull you have on me. And it fucking kills me that I can’t have you for myself.”
My mouth is dry. I can’t speak. My brain might be short-circuiting.
