Page 64 of Until Next Time
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Three hours and one very long Face Time call with Casey later, I hear a knock at the front door. My stomach drops and I feel like I’m about to climb onto a roller coaster. The kind that flips and twists and makes me feel like I’m surely going to die.
Getting ready was harder than normal because for starters, I’ve been dreaming of this moment for as long as I can remember, but I never pictured this day happening with four inches of snow on the ground, so my outfit options are limited. I don’t know why I only pictured dating Dawsen in the summer, but that’s something I’ll psychoanalyze later.
I opted for my fleece lined black leggings, and my black biker boots, and a scoop neck long sleeve top. All black, but paired with my Sherpa lined denim jacket and my burnt orange beanie. I look simple, but still cute, and I should bemostlywarm. I’ve always been the kind of girl who chose fashion over function. I am who I am and I won’t apologize for it. Even if I do freeze.
I hear the door open downstairs and I can hear my dad and Dawsen’s voices greeting each other. My body is freezing up and I feel more nervous with each passing second. The reality of me having to go downstairs and to actually be on this date is becoming increasingly more real and my nerves are at an all time high. I think my mom was right— I’ve been in a state of shock and it’s wearing off now.
I prop myself up on my hands and stare at myself in my vanity mirror. I give myself one last look over, I straighten, andspritz a few more sprays of perfume on my neck. I take a deep breath and head for what I hope isthe first day of my life.
I take the steps downstairs much slower than I did this morning, and I can hear Dawsen’s voice now coming from the kitchen. He’s laughing at something my dad said, and I can hear my mom’s voice, “It’s going to be great having you and your dad here for dinner tonight. I’m making lasagna.”
“That sounds great, What can I bring? Wine? I’d love to contribute something.”
“Wine would be lovely!”
I interject, “good morning!” Everyone’s heads turn towards me, but my eyes are on Dawsen. He’s wearing brown corduroy pants, his boots, and a navy blue Henley under his trucker jacket. His hair is perfectly mussed, like he ran pomade through it this morning, and his face is clean shaven.
He looks downright sinful.
“Hi, Birdie!” His face brightens and he walks over to me and brings me into a hug in just one impressive stride. I’m pressed up against his chest and I inhale his woodsy scent and I want to live in it.
He pulls back and looks down at me, his hand still on one side of my waist.
“You hungry?”
I smile up at him, “Starving.”
The way he’s so effortlessly slid into being so affectionate with me makes warmth spread into my belly. He’s touching me like he’s been doing this forever. He’s touching me the way I’ve dreamt of him touching me forever.
Dawsen leads me to the passenger side of his truck, that he left on and running. He opens the door for me, and I slide in. He closes the door and runs around the front to his side and slams the door once he jumps in. He rubs his hands together and looks at me, just grinning. He’s grinning like a schoolboy. His face isbeautiful. I can’t look away and I already know that I’ll never get enough of giddy Dawsen.
“Are you warm enough?” He asks as he rubs his hands together like flint, and brings them to his lips.
“It’s so toasty, thank you!” I say, sliding into the middle of the bench seat, like I did when he brought me home that one night.
He looks over at me with a small smirk on his face as he’s pulling back onto the street.
“Is this ok? Sitting here?” I signal between us.
“Yeah, it’s perfect.” He says, as he reaches his arm behind me over the back of the seat.
“I’m sorry I’m not taking you anywhere special. Mel’s is the only breakfast place open on Christmas Eve apparently.”
“Mel’s is my favorite.” I nudge him with my elbow.
There’s silence between us. But not the uncomfortable kind. In fact, it’s the very comfortable kind. The same silence that sat between us on our trip to Munsen. Just the cozy hum of Bon Iver spilling from the stereo, and our mutual silence that is saying so many things. For me, it’s saying— “I can’t believe this is happening. It’s. Happening. Holy Shit.”
“I can’t believe this is happening.” Dawsen says, breaking the silence and apparently also reading my mind.
“I know. I can’t believe I agreed to this.” I smirk at him, and he nudges me with his shoulder and I zing from his touch.
“You smell really good. I mean, you always smell really good but it always felt like it would be weird if I had told you that before now.” I say, rambling—of course.
“Birdie, I’ve refused to wash the damn jacket I brought with us to Munsen because I can still smell you on it.” I blush at his admission.
Dawsen smiles while keeping his eyes on the road as we pull up to Mel’s Diner. He pulls into the lot behind the building and manages to pull into a spot close to the entrance. He shiftsthe car into park and unbuckles his seat belt in almost one continuous motion. He shifts on the seat, his knee bumping into the side of my leg, and his arm still draped over the seat behind me. His face turns into something more serious, but not in that painful serious look of his. This is a look of yearning. And oh, it looks so good on him and he has my full attention.
