Page 34 of Sunflower Persona (Classic City Romance #2)

Kori

L ines of code blur together on my screen, turning the already hard-to-read characters into a sea of hieroglyphics.

I blink to refocus my eyes, but it doesn’t do much to help.

What I thought made sense hours ago reads like nonsense now, which is only confirmed when I get another error when I try to run it.

“Daisy, I give up,” I say with a frustrated huff as I click out of my assignment.

It’s clear I’m not making any more progress on it tonight. I’ll try again with fresh eyes in the morning and inevitably get annoyed when the fix is something obvious like a missing semicolon. It’s always a fucking semicolon.

A clear head would help as well. It’s impossible to focus when everything reminds me of Gage.

All it takes is one glance at the flowers on my desk, and my mind wanders back to our date.

I could lie and say my thoughts are innocent, but the memories of how he made me laugh and the fun we had together are what occupy my daydreams. His touch, his taste, the power I wielded over him as I coaxed his body into submission: those are the things I keep coming back to.

God, that look on his face when he came.

I don’t think I’ve ever been more turned on in my whole life.

It’s a heady feeling to have a man like that at your mercy.

It’s not something I’d ever experienced before last night, but I’m already craving it again—craving him again—and the constant horny brain is making getting anything else done an impossible feat.

Exhibit A: my incomplete assignment.

Exhibit B through Z: the list of assignments due this week I haven’t even started.

If that wasn’t bad enough, I haven’t heard a word from him beyond a generic “good morning” text this morning.

I replied in kind, and then there was nothing.

No check-ins about my day. No random memes.

Sure, I didn’t initiate anything either, but the proverbial ball is in his court.

Everything I’ve read online says not to double text, or I’ll come across as clingy and scare him away.

It’s stupid; I feel like we are playing games now, and we never did that before he asked me out.

Things were easy between us—texts were sporadic but never with any pressure.

Now the whole dynamic has shifted, and I don’t know what to do.

I really want to talk to him, but I don’t want to scare him away by being too much.

I tend to ruin things by coming on too strong. At least that’s what I’ve been told by friends in the past when they decided they were done with me. What if Gage sees how weird I am and decides he’s done with me too?

“What would you do in my shoes?” I ask the duck.

Of course she tells me to text the man. She’s always had more confidence in her little plastic shell than I’ve ever dreamed of having.

“But what do I say?”

Telling him I miss him already would be coming on too strong, but if I don’t say anything, he might think I’m not interested. Why can’t there be step-by-step instructions on how to do this whole girlfriend thing? That would make this one thousand times easier.

“I could ask him about his day,” I muse.

That is the sane option here. It’s an open-ended question—the forums I read said those are good for getting conversations flowing.

What’s the worst that could happen from one text? Gage could decide he made a mistake asking me out in the first place, tell me he never wants to see me again, and all of his friends block me on everything, leaving me completely alone again, but the odds of that happening are slim.

I think.

Realistically, he leaves me on read. I can deal with being left on read.

Fuck it.

I grab my phone, but my fingers freeze before I can craft a message. What do I say? Should I use emoji? Exclamation points? Those might make me seem too enthusiastic.

Why is this so hard?

I take a deep breath and type the first thing that comes to my mind and hit send before I can chicken out.

Hi.

“Hi.” Really. That’s the best I could do?

I throw myself onto my bed with a dramatic groan and prepare to wait, but the message is read before I can lock my phone, and three little dots pop up on the screen.

Hi.

The teasing is clear even through text. It would help if I had a game plan going into this. I start to type, then delete the message, and then I do it again in an endless cycle of uncertainty.

What’s up?

My boyfriend’s text stops the worrying.

I can hear you overthinking through the screen.

Anxiety’s hold on my heart loosens as the next message comes through less than a second later. He double texted. That has to mean something, right? Maybe the games really are all in my head.

There’s only one way to find out.

I take a deep breath and let my fingers fly, blocking out the voice in my head telling me I’m being too much and spilling my truth.

I don’t know. I wanted to talk to you, but I couldn’t think of anything to say.

I find that hard to believe.

Nothing interesting, at least.

Again, hard to believe. Everything you say is interesting. You keep me on my toes. I like that.

I like you.

Shit. That was too much. His response comes through before I can backtrack on my admission.

I’ve got thirty before I need to leave for my shift at Cutter’s. Can I call you?

He doesn’t wait for my response before an incoming call pops up on my screen.

“Hi,” I squeak as I answer it, and a low chuckle comes through the line.

“Hey, Low.”

His rich timbre washes over me, sending a warm tingle down my spine and lighting me up from the inside. It’s been less than a day since I’ve heard his voice—which is no time in the grand scheme of things—but the sound is a drug, soothing the growing itch of withdrawal.

“Is everything okay? Why are you calling?”

“Do I need a reason to call my girl besides wanting to hear her voice?”

“No, but you saw me yesterday.”

“That was yesterday. I miss you.”

“It’s too soon for you to miss me,” I protest despite the butterflies swarming in my stomach.

“Says who?”

“I don’t know, the internet? We’ve only been on one date, that’s way too early to be missing each other like this.”

“One: we’ve known each other for weeks. Yesterday might have been our first date, but by no stretch was it our start. Two: fuck what anyone else thinks. The only people whose opinions matter when it comes to our relationship are us. Three: are you saying you miss me too?”

“Maybe…”

“When can I see you again?” he asks with a desperate rasp.

“Why are you asking me? You are the one with a million jobs.”

“It’s only two now. But I work every night this week. You could come by Cutter’s. I’m sure the crew would keep you company.”

The “yes” is on my tongue, but Daisy’s beady glare keeps it from slipping past my lips. She knows how many hours the pile of unfinished assignments with looming due dates is going to take for me to finish, and it’s too many for me to spare a night going out with friends—even if I really want to.

“As great as that sounds…”

“You can’t,” he finishes for me, sounding dejected.

“I have too much schoolwork to get done this week. It’s like my professors conspired to set all their due dates at the same time.”

“Are you busy this Saturday? I’ve got most of the afternoon free.”

“No, I’m available.”

“Perfect. Then I’m taking you out.”

“That sounds like a statement, not a question.”

“Because it wasn’t,” he says in the no-nonsense way that makes me want to do very dirty things to him.

“Yes, Coach,” I rasp, and based on the low growl he gives in response, he knows exactly where my head is at.

“Go to bed, or work on your assignments. I’ll call you again tomorrow, okay?”

“Okay.”

“Goodnight, Kori.”

“Goodnight, Gage,” I say, and the line goes dead.

My body isn’t enough to contain the overwhelming swell of emotion in my chest and flurry of butterflies in my stomach.

Until this moment, I never understood the whole “kicking your legs” thing that is always in rom-coms, but the urge is there.

Maybe it would release some of this all-consuming giddiness.

There’s no way I’ll be able to focus on my assignments like this, so I put on a movie and try to relax enough to get some sleep.

It doesn’t come easy. My thoughts are full of Gage and my anticipation of tomorrow.

I hope it’s always like this—I can’t imagine being with him and not spending each day looking forward to the next.