I hear a door open and close before his breath is back on my ear. I shiver as if he’s standing behind me.
“Is it tight?”
I laugh. “Are you going to try to have phone sex with me at three o’clock in the afternoon? From work?”
He exhales. “I sent you a text message to tell you not to wear a short dress to our friend date, and you’re telling me you’re wearing one right now, in plain sight, for everyone to see.”
“And? You act like I’m wearing lingerie.”
“No, but every male in Santa Barbara is going to be looking at those legs of yours and wishing they were wrapped around their waist, and seeing the tops of your tits and wishing they could pull the dress down to get a better look . . .”
“Oliver!” I interrupt, completely flustered. I’m starting to get hot flashes and breathe heavily, and he’s not even there to do any of those things to me. “Friends!” I shout. “Friends! I’m not going out with you if you keep saying these things to me.”
He doesn’t speak for so long that I actually look at my screen to make sure he’s still there.
“What does me saying these things do to you, Estelle?” he asks, his voice grating over me, making me shiver involuntarily.
“Nothing,” I whisper.
“Nothing?” I close my eyes at the challenge in his voice, knowing I should have just ignored the question altogether. “It doesn’t make you wish we were alone somewhere?”
“Why would I wish that?” I ask, hoping my voice sounds steadier than it feels.
“Because if we were, I’d slip my hand under your dress . . .” he pauses and drops his voice even lower. “Into your panties.”
“Who says I’m wearing any?” I ask in a breath.
“Are you not wearing panties, naughty Elle?” The smile in his voice makes a blush creep over my face.
“Maybe.”
“If I slip my hand under your dress and find that you’re not, I wouldn’t be able to resist. I’d have to pull the dress over your head and find out if you’re completely naked beneath it.”
“And what if I am?” I ask quietly. Why am I playing this game? Why, why, why am I entertaining this? Why am I enjoying it?
“You’d be in a lot of trouble,” he says with a rough growl that makes my heart skip.
“Oh yeah? What kind of trouble?” I tease.
“First I’d want to taste you,” he starts.
“No kissing on friend dates,” I taunt with a smile.
“I wouldn’t be kissing your mouth,” he says in a voice that makes my heart lurch, before he continues, “I’d take my time, kissing my way down your body until I reach your ankles, and then I’d move back up slowly, my tongue tracing the inside of your thighs . . . tasting every inch of you . . .” His words are a purr, and I’m panting at the vivid picture he’s painting for me as if I can feel his hot tongue on my sensitive skin. “I’ll savor you until you beg for my lips and mouth to fuck that—”
“Oliver!” I snap, a moan escaping my lips. I totally asked for that—I know I did—but hearing the actual words from him make me feel too hot, too bothered, too . . . much. I take a breath and manage to squeak out, “Don’t you have lives to save?”
“I’m on break,” he responds nonchalantly, as if he hadn’t just said all those things to me. “I do eat lunch, you know.”
“You’re phone-sexing on your lunch break?” My eyes pop open and blink rapidly to adjust to the light in my studio.
He chuckles. “I’m skilled like that.”
“Okay . . . I’m going to let you go now so you can finish enjoying your lunch break.”
“You don’t have to. I have a raging hard-on right now, and I have to hide in this dark closet until I figure out what to do about it before I can go about my day.”
I sigh, sagging down to the seat behind me. Images of him flirting with all the nurses flash through my mind before I can stop them. “I’m sure there are many willing nurses . . . and hospital execs willing to help you out with that.”
Silence again, followed by a harsh exhale. “I wish you wouldn’t think so poorly of me.”
“I wish you wouldn’t have put those thoughts there to begin with, but that’s life, Bean.”
“I hate it when you call me Bean,” he whispers, his voice suddenly morphing into something deeper, something sadder.
“Why?” I whisper back, even though I’m completely alone.
“I have my reasons,” he says, before clearing his throat. “Anyway, the problem is gone, so no need to call for backup. Not that I would have.”
“Okay, well . . . have a good day,” I say, not knowing what else to say.
“You too.”
I put the phone down, and as I’m about to pick up a piece of broken glass to start on my sculpture, it vibrates again.
Next rule: no “Bean” on our friend date.
Okay.
No Chicken, either. Only Estelle and Oliver.
Winged creatures flutter inside me.
E & O
Thank u. It’s been a rough week. I needed that smile today.
When he says things like this, he makes me want to cry. I know his job is hard, and the fact that he wants to continue with pediatrics once he finishes his residency is something I can’t fathom. Seeing him looking so defeated the other day was so unlike him. And now this message? It breaks my heart.
::curtsies:: I’ll be here all day.
In your dress?
LOL. In my dress!
Neither of us responds after that and, as I continue to make my usual shattered, kaleidoscope heart, I smile. He’s the reason I started making these in the first place, even though Wyatt was the one who taught me how to perfect them so that the heart wouldn’t fall apart. I can’t help but wonder if that was a sign somehow, but I don’t let that idea hang around for too long. There’s no point in believing in destiny if you’re too stubborn to give in to it.