Page 27 of Nolan
Easy does it, Nolan, before you scare her off.
Her next words hover across my visual feeds, teasing me. Is it weird I miss you already?
My processes slow as I stare at them, lost in a moment of reverie.
She misses me.
This woman has my wires irreparably crossed now. I’m practically at her mercy. But I can’t let her know that, not yet, not when we don’t know where this is going.
Not while Apollo doesn’t know.
It’s not weird, I reply. I miss you too.
It’s no lie. Just being in close proximity with Mia has me wanting more. I’m already trying to plan a perfect date, something to really sweep her off her feet. Our time in the park was a good start, but it’s not enough now. Not after the kiss tonight.
What are you doing right now? she asks.
Thinking about you, I reply. I want to tell her more than that. That she’s all I can think about. That she’s changing me, making me hers in ways I didn’t know I could be.
Should I be more cautious? This is such a dangerous game. We haven’t known each other long at all. I remember the heartbreak behind AJ and Booker’s sister’s situation when it didn’t work out.
I don’t want to be on the receiving end of that. But Mia’s vitals tonight practically spoke to me all on their own. I can read deception. There was none in her face, in her heartbeat, or the way she breathed.
What about me? she asks.
Fuck. Everything. The feel of her body against mine. The way she looked when I picked her up and held her in the park. The warmth dancing in her eyes. How light she is. The feeling of her legs wrapped around my waist. How easy it would be to toss her onto a bed and pin her down and tickle her with kisses.
How much I enjoyed kissing you, I message back. And how I can’t wait to do it again.
After assailing me with a message filled with little pink heart emojis, she sends another directly after. Nolan?
Yes, Mia?
I’m starting to get sleepy. She sends me a photo of her swathed in blankets and pillows, smiling coyly up at me—and giving me a lovely glimpse down a silky pajama top.
Sitting on my bed—one I really don’t use all that often, because I like to go into standby while upright, and it feels strange to be swallowed by a mattress—I allow my processors to run wild as I scan every visible inch of her. That is, until I see something and chuckle to myself.
Is that a unicorn plushie?
She sends me another photo of a giant stuffed animal, pure white with a sparkly pink mane. That’s Mr. Unicorn to you. Don’t judge me. He’s soft! He was a joke birthday gift last year from some friends. I use him as a body pillow.
“Lucky fucking unicorn,” I mutter aloud, then type, Didn’t realize you had a thing for magical creatures.
My favorite book as a child was The Last Unicorn. Have you read it? By Peter S. Beagle.
The download is instantaneous, and after 3.7 seconds, I have. Yes. I’m certain I could continue talking to her until my battery wears out and dies, but I know better. But we can talk more about it tomorrow. You need rest.
But what if I want to stay awake so I can keep talking to you? she asks.
My first impulse is to give her just that. Do whatever she wants. You just said you were falling asleep, I point out.
I am, she admits. I just wish you were here with me. She doesn’t give me a chance to respond, sending me hearts and kisses. Good night, Nolan.
Good night, Mia.
I nearly slip into sleep mode with her, just so I can pretend we’re together. I imagine how I’d lie next to her, gazing at her while she sleeps, how lucky I am that nobody has been smart enough to sweep her up and never let her go. I’m not like the other men on my team. When I look at what Apollo has, versus the way Travis and AJ behave, I’m not interested in being a playboy, having an internal scoreboard.
I want what Apollo has. Because he’s happy. He has a purpose.
