Me:
Okay.
Lincoln:
You can’t just stop talking to me.
“Want to bet?” I glare at the phone, thinking of a one-word answer to not let him win. I snort. “Actually, you know what is better than one word?” I ask the phone. “Zero words.”
The bubble with the three dots comes up again.
Lincoln:
Finley.
I think about answering him, but instead I get up and head to my room. I toss the phone on the bed before I take off my top, throw it in the basket, and add the shorts and panties. I take a shower, exfoliating my skin and doing all the things I can to pamper myself in this tiny bathroom. Wrapping the towel around me and then my hair, I make my way over to my phone and see that he texted me two more times.
Lincoln:
Finley, this is ridiculous.
Lincoln:
How am I supposed to apologize if you won’t talk to me?
Me:
That is a you problem, Lincoln, not a me problem.
Lincoln:
Good night, we’ll talk tomorrow.
“Oh no, we won’t,” I tell the phone and not him. Sitting on the bed, I wonder what he’s doing in the house right now.
I toss my phone aside, going back to the bathroom to comb out my hair, then slide into bed. I lay on my side and close my eyes, seeing his face right before he kissed me, remembering the feel of his hand on my face. I think my whole body felt his heat. It was like an electric shock pulsed my body awake.
I sleep like the dead and only wake up when my alarm rings. I grab the phone and shut it off before lying back on the pillow. I would usually get out of bed and make my coffee now and go sit outside where Lincoln might be waiting for me. Instead, I linger in bed until the very last minute.
I make the bed and look outside, seeing it’s a gloomy day. The rain is a welcome escape after two weeks of summer heat. I dress in a pair of loose-fitting ivory cashmere pants—the soft fabric is perfect for this weather. I tie a bow at the waist and grab the matching tank top, slipping it on over my bra. The top hits right above my belly button, so I put on a brown zip sweater, letting it hang open.
I make my coffee, and when it’s 8:00 a.m. on the nose, I walk out of the apartment to the house barefoot, since I left my flip-flops there yesterday.
Lincoln is in the kitchen, dressed in his uniform. He’s leaning against the counter, his phone in his hand.
My phone buzzes when I get to the door.
Lincoln:
Are you coming to work today?
I open the door, and his eyes fly up to me.
“Good morning,” he says, and I see him do a slow sweep of my outfit. My chest starts to feel heavy under his gaze.
“Morning,” I mumble, sticking to one-word answers.
“I have to get going.” He doesn’t move from his spot. “It’s going to rain all day today.”