Page 70 of Until Next Time
“It’s your Christmas present. It’s nothing fancy, and it’s homemade. But, it has a lot of meaning.” I extend the gift towards her, and she’s smiling, eyes locked on mine.
“You made me a present?” She says, like it’s the best thing she’s ever heard.
“Yeah… It was…inspired.” Suddenly I’m nervous as she begins peeling back the wrapping.
She pulls out a binder, the cover photo is a simple sheet of white paper that I wrote the title on—“Our Book of Secrets”
Her face contorts into something confused, intrigued and excited. I love the way it looks. She moves over to the bed in a quick stride, pulls her feet up into a criss-cross position as she sets the binder on her lap and begins to flip it open.
39
Birdie
I flip open the binder that Dawsen made for me. The title page says, “Our Book of Secrets.” The first page has a receipt taped onto it. It’s from Nook & Novel. It’s dated back about eight years ago. The single item purchased is a book I know all too well.
Post Secret
I suck in a breath when I see Dawsen’s handwriting scrawled underneath the receipt—
“I’ve been paying attention to you for as long as I can remember. I hold onto every word you’ve ever said to me, and it led me here. I figured since I’ve sort of stolen all of your secrets, I’d give you some of mine.”
I look up at this man, standing in the middle of my messy bedroom in my parents house. He looks nervous, he looks adorable, and he looks downright sexy.
I flip through each page, to reveal almost every secret I ever sent or deposited into that damn post box. Under each one, Dawsen has written a secret of his own. For each one of mine, one of his. It’s equal parts precious and heart-wrenching.
He left no stone unturned. His secrets were heavy. Some light, but so much of his life has been laced with pain, yearning, and feeling inadequate. Whether it was sports in high school, and feeling like an imposter, or the heartbreak he felt watching me attend my junior prom with Dean Lusko. Or his admission into carrying the blame of his mother’s death.
There are tears coming now. With each one of my secrets, he shares his own. The thought behind this.
“I hope you don’t mind—I’ve been having Mira save all your submissions for me. She’s pretty much the only one who knows how I’ve felt about you all this time.”
“Come here.” I say simply, setting the binder beside me. I reach out for his hands as he approaches me. He’s hovering over me as I’m still sitting on my bed.
He drops his head and my voice turns emotional. “Please set all of this down. You’re so incredible, Dawsen. You need to set all of this down.”
He kneels down in front of me, our eyes level, his hands graze my thighs back and forth, like he’s looking for the words.
“I’m sorry it took me so long to figure all of this out.” He grabs my hands and brings them to his face. I run them to the back of his head and take note of how my fingertips feel running through his thick locks.
We sit here for a few moments, it’s intimate, it’s a moment of rest, like we’ve both been released from years of wanting each other, and we’re finally having each other.
I tip his chin up to me, and I lean in, our lips barely brushing. “You’re kind of a stalker, you know that?” I say, teasing him.
“Yeah, I’m surprised Mira didn’t rat me out to you like a million times.”
I smile and can’t stand being this close and not kissing him. I crash my lips into his and we turn heated. Soon we’re just limbs tangled, tongues exploring. We’re like high school kids rolling around in my bed. His hands are in my hair, and I can feel him grow hard beneath me. My core is on fire, and I start to shift my hips back and forth against him.
He lets out a pained groan, “Baby, wait.” He’s smiling, panting, and it makes me lick my lips.
“Shit.” I say, as I hear footsteps coming down the hall. We both jump off the bed like it was on fire. I’m adjusting my dress, patting down my hair, and Dawsen reaches down the front of his pants to adjust himself, and my eyes go wide. He notices and smirks at me.
There’s a knock at the door.
“Stop fucking around and come eat.” I hear Casey’s voice on the other side of the door, and I’ve never been so grateful to not hear one of my parents on the other side of that door.
“Do you think they’re going to know that we were making out?” I ask, nervous.
Dawsen walks over to me, and brings his thumb to the corner of my lips and swipe his finger, like he’s fixing my lipstick. Then he bends down and kisses that same spot.
