Page 65 of Finding New Dreams

RoseWithLove: Haha! All the good ones do that.

ArtsyHotGuy3234: When can I have another?

RoseWithLove: Addicted already?

ArtsyHotGuy3234: Oh, I’m addicted all right. But it’s not to the books…

I squeaked, my pulse racing. Holy crap, I would’ve been a hot mess if this conversation had been in person.

I drained my tea before answering.

RoseWithLove: I’ll bring another one for you tomorrow and we can trade :)

Over the course of that week, we traded several romance books as well as conversations about them.

But the late-night messages were my favorite.

Ones like:

ArtsyHotGuy3234: Are you still awake? I am. But still dreaming of you.

And:

ArtsyHotGuy3234: I keep thinking about the hot pink sleeve of your dress from today. It slipped down your shoulder while you were painting. No bra strap I could see. I’ve never wanted something so badly as when I wanted to press my lips to that bared skin.

And:

ArtsyHotGuy3234: I miss you already. How is that possible?

And:

ArtsyHotGuy3234: I wish I could pull you through this phone. Surround your body with mine. I want your heat, your gasps. I want my name in your mouth while mine lays claim to every inch of your sweet skin. Forget I said all that if you want. But it’s the truth.

I’d read them over and over. They slipped into my dreams and played out in tantalizing detail. I’d filled my dream journal and had to start a new one.

I’d also started and finished several more…private works of art, including the one of his eyes I’d kept from him. But they were all about him. How he made me feel. How I wanted him to make me feel.

My nerve endings always seemed to be at a low, vibrating hum these days. Unless he happened to be nearby. Then they’d spark to a roar until my body felt like a fully charged rocket ready to go off. But I was missing the detonator.

I needed him. His touch, his smile, his warmth. Nothing would assuage this terrible restlessness but him.

Yet he didn’t let it go further than those messages, aside from heated glances and barely-there touches. Despite the evidence to the contrary, he displayed superhuman control. Almost like he was waiting for something.

If he was waiting for me to forget or to ask him to stop, he’d be waiting forever.

I wanted more.

To make matters worse, I was getting used to him being around every day and everywhere, not just in my phone or my dreams.

He joined me for many of my walks with Furry Family dogs. We went on another “inspirational” kayak trip. At the gallery, we kept hosting paint nights and even another class with Mrs. Q because she’d loved the first one so much. He’d also acted as my assistant on a few senior photo shoots.

He got in the habit of picking up lunch for us every day. Whether from Monty’s Diner, Tall Tales, or Baciami, he always remembered to get me a vegetarian meal and even learned my favorites.

I hadn’t been on any dates. Had barely even looked at any other messages or requests on the app.

Flynn was consuming me on nearly every level. Why not give in?

Yes, I was still worried about how our connection would affect me when it ended. No, I hadn’t forgotten all the logistical details that normally kept me anchored. Sensible. Stationary. Alone.

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