Page 57 of Until Next Time
Casey: I’m sorry, Bird. It’s for the best. Trust yourself.
Casey: P.S. Your brother is pissing me off.
Me: Lol. What’s he doing this time?
Casey: The usual. Existing.
Me: Yeah, he tends to do that. ;) good luck!
Casey: I’ll swing on by tonight with ice cream.
Me: Phish Food, please. I have wine :)
Casey: See you then!
I stand up and hike my bag up onto my shoulder and head towards the front of the store, but I’m stopped in my tracks when I see a small display table near the register with stacks ofThe Dailymagazine… with a picture of Dawsen Jones on the cover.
My head feels hot almost immediately and my stomach fills with butterflies seeing the photo of him. He’s standing against the tasting counter in the winery, looking sinfully sexy. His hairis perfectly mussed, and his outfit is casual. It’s perfectly him. Like he didn’t give his outfit much thought, but when you look like that, you don’t need to.
Once I pull myself from the trance, I’m met with confusion. Why is he on the cover of a national magazine. Like, did I miss something? I grab a copy and flip it open, frantically searching for the cover story. It’s there, in the middle of the magazine, a full four page spread of Dawsen Jones. An expose on the Merc and Southbound. My mouth goes dry as I read the words splashed across the pages, and my heart stills when I read his quoted words beneath the interviewers question about the name of the winery and what inspired the name change.
“Yeah, I mean, it was definitely inspired. There’s this girl. I mean, it’s always a girl isn’t it, the reason any man does anything? Well, yeah, she moved away. You could say she flew south for the winter, which makes more sense if you knew her. But yeah, anyways, she moved away to the city, and she’s the muse behind the name.”
My hands are literally shaking, and I’m so immersed in this damn article, I don’t even notice Mira has been looking at me.
“He’s something else, isn’t he?” Mira says, breaking my focus.
“Mira. What the hell? When did he do this interview.”
“Awhile back, you were still in the city. I knew the boy had it bad for you, but I didn’t know just how bad.” She says, almost joyfully.
My heart is pounding, and it feels like my mind is trying to play catch-up or connect the dots.
I had no idea he felt this way.
“Why didn’t he tell me?! I don’t get it.” My whole body feels like it’s been jolted by caffeine and electricity.
“Can I pay for this later? I need to go talk to Dawsen.” I say, as I’m practically running out the door.
“Nonsense, It’s yours. Go get ‘em tiger.” Mira hollers at me as I run out the door. And I do quite literally run down the block until I get to the front doors of Southbound. I pull them open with fury and walk right up to Greg and demand to know where Dawsen is. He looks all too amused with the scene I’ve just caused.
Calmly, smiling, he asks, “So, I’m guessing you read the article?”
“Yep” I say, popping the ‘p’
“He’s upstairs.” Greg says, pointing me towards the hallway that leads up to Dawsen’s loft.
Without another word I run up the steps, skipping every other, while simultaneously being impressed by my athleticism in the moment.
I reach the door to his loft and pound my fist against it. It doesn’t take but 20 seconds until Dawsen pulls the door open and I push myself in.
“What the hell is this?” I ask, I can feel tears sliding down my cheeks, holding open the magazine an inch from his face. Just in case he needs to jog his memory.
“It’s my cover story interview I did withThe Dailya couple months ago.” He answers my rhetorical question, which is all very irritating in the moment.
“You know what I mean, Dawsen.” I drop the magazine and walk up to him. We’re so close, our shoes are touching, and I can sense how fast his heart is beating.
I’m peering up at him, and his gaze is locked on mine.
