A text at 9:55 p.m. probably seems like a booty call. If I’m honest, that is on my mind, but I haven’t stopped thinking about Austin since I left his house two days ago. I wandered around work in a lust-struck daze. It wasn’t so bad that I couldn’t focus, but Austin occupied every second of non-medical thoughts I had today. Having someone completely take over my head hasn’t happened to me in years. Not since freshman year when I had a crush on my English 101 TA. Maybe I’ve always had a thing for creative men who pour out their souls through words.

I glance down, convinced he wouldn’t be impressed by my button-down pajama top. Sure, it’s a silky fabric in the signature pink-and-white stripes of Victoria’s Secret, but it doesn’t scream sexy. I’ve worn the same kind of pajamas for years. Comfort over sex appeal. We’re talking about sleep, after all.

I bite my lip, concealing a smile as my thumbs fly across the screen.

The nickname is new. He’s never called me that before, but I remember hearing him sing it in the song I loved. Warmth floods my cheeks as I imagine being the girl he wrote about. I wonder who it is? Or was? Or if it’s a real person at all.

Is this the life of dating a musician? Always wondering who the songs were written for or about? And if every time he sings that song, he’s thinking about that girl. I’m not jealous—I know everyone has a past—but it’s a bit unsettling to know that he uses the same nickname with me that he had for someone else.

I’m already in bed, reading the results of a study in The American Journal of Surgery for an article I’m writing—or should be writing. No offense to N.E. Anton, et al., but reading the study, titled “Mental Skills Training Effectively Minimizes Operative Performance Deterioration Under Stressful Conditions” takes a backseat to being with Austin again.

Guilt and shame rip through me. The study is research for an article I was asked to write for a professional medical journal. Things that propel my career forward shouldn’t take a backseat to sex. I should want to tell Austin I’m not available. I should want to finish this study more than I want to kiss him. Because this study impacts my life. My dream. My future.

But the connection Austin and I have is something I’ve never felt before. And maybe after all these years of putting education and my career first, I should let whatever this is between us happen instead of analyzing it to an early death.

It’s not like anything in this article is going to help me right this minute. I can go back to it at any time. I flex my right hand, curling my fingers and extending them multiple times as I stare at the scar on my finger.

You’ll be able to go back to it during all the free time you’re going to have when you finally face the future with your injury.

The thought of being with Austin is much more alluring than thinking about the study or the future. Following the flutter in my stomach, I decide to disregard my duty. I set my iPad on the bedside table and pick up my phone again.

I text Austin my address.

He’s coming over.

This is real.

My heart pounds, and a million things roll through my mind as I pull back the covers and head to the bathroom. I’m in pajamas. Should I get dressed? Should I change into cuter pajamas or regular clothes? I’m not exactly sure how to proceed, but I definitely want to put on makeup. I can’t let him see me not put together.

As I squeeze toothpaste onto my brush, I wonder why I’m doing this. It’s late. I should text him and tell him I’m too tired. The reflection looking back at me as I brush has a hint of rose in her cheeks. A glint of sparkle in her eye. I barely recognize her. I haven’t seen this sparkle since well before my accident.

I spit into the sink and rinse the bowl with a quick splash of water. Then I open up the drawer to the vanity and pull out my new NARS CC cream. It gives my skin a soft, dewy finish. I follow it up with my favorite blush from the same company—Orgasm. The name makes me smile. I’ve been wearing it for years, because it’s a gorgeous peachy pink that complements my skin tone. Sweeping it over my cheeks makes me feel sexy and confident. I can’t contain the smile that lifts my lips as I place it in the drawer and grab a mascara.

Once my face is complete, I run a brush and smoothing serum through my hair. It’s not perfect, but it’ll do. Before I leave my bedroom, I change into different pajamas, opting for a soft, hot-pink tank top and black shorts. Cute, comfy, casual—yet still sexy.

It feels good to be wanted. I can honestly say I’ve never had that before. Even with the few ex-boyfriends I’ve had. My relationships were about status—not passion. Who my parents wanted me to be with—or set me up with—since Mama loves to play matchmaker. Before Austin, I’d only had one orgasm in my life with someone else. He gave me two the first night we were together. I’ve never been with someone who paid attention to what I wanted. In any previous relationship, I would have chosen to lay in bed and read The American Journal of Surgery 100% of the time.

I can’t help but wonder if I’m making the right decision. Do I like Austin for the right reasons? Is it the allure of a musician—the sexy bad boy? No. That can’t be it. He’s not a bad boy. He’s a sweet, sensitive soul.

Is the possibility exciting because he’s completely different than the men I’m used to? Probably, but why is that a reason not to pursue this? That may be the number one reason to continue. I’m not attracted to the guys in my social circle. Maybe stepping outside of my so-called comfort zone is a positive thing.

The attraction is there—and it’s not just physical. I feel like I’ve known him my entire life. Which is ridiculous. I’ve never felt that way with anyone, not even people I have known my entire life—except for my sisters. With Austin it’s excitement and butterflies and passion. I’m hanging on every text. Just thinking about being around him again gives me an instant injection of happiness.

I’m not sure how long it will take him to eat, but I know my minutes are limited before he gets here. I swirl around my house like a reverse tornado, picking up every piece of debris laying around.

I’m scrubbing the toilet when I hear the knock. It’s go time. I fly out of the room without a thought about if I remembered to flush the bubbles out. Not that Austin should care, considering the state of his bathroom.

“Hey!” I say as I swing the door open. It’s hard to feel sexy after scrubbing the toilet with bleach cleaner, but I push though, straightening my back and answering with confidence. “Sorry, I’m not dressed.”

“You look absolutely amazing,” Austin says, scanning me before our eyes meet and lock. Once that happens, I’m gone. He’s got me under his spell.

“Thanks.” Accepting compliments on my appearance isn’t easy for me. I’m used to being complimented on my work ethic or compassion, but Austin doesn’t know me in that regard so I guess him liking me for my physical appearance is acceptable. I’m not stick thin or conventionally beautiful like my sisters—who have been featured in brochures for Commons. Evidently photo-editing software can remove Emily’s tattoos, but not my love handles. I’m toned, but I have curves. Big boobs, love handles. I like myself even if I’m not the skinny, blonde, tanned, the trophy-wife kind of beauty most men in my social circle seem to want. I have no ill will toward women like that; it’s just not something I’ve ever aspired to be.

Austin follows me to the couch and sits down.

“Should we watch a movie?” I ask, grabbing the remote from the end table and turning on the TV.

“We can do whatever you want,” he answers. Then reaches out and grabs me by the waist, pulling me onto his lap. A shriek escapes my lips, elated by his intimate playfulness.

“God! I’ve missed you.” He buries his face in my neck and starts kissing me. The thought of him missing me fills me with instant happiness.

“It’s only been two days.” I tilt my neck, giving him better access.

“Two days felt like an eternity when I didn’t know if I’d ever hear from you.”

“Sorry I didn’t leave my number. I—I don’t know, I was confused.”

“By me?”

“By the situation. I’ve never gone home with someone I just met. Or someone so—”

“So—what?” Austin asks, pausing his sensual assault on my neck.

“Hot. Sexy. In demand,” I finish quickly. “I didn’t think someone like you would be into me.”

“I bet a lot of people like me want to be in you.”

“Oh my gosh.” I slap him lightly.

“You set me up, babe.” He tightens this grip around me and brings his lips back to my neck, kissing the spot right behind my earlobe. “Truth be told, I wouldn’t have waited much longer.”

My entire body stiffens. “Oh.” I can’t help the disappointment in my voice. This really is just a booty call for him. We had sex the night we met and I texted him at ten o’clock tonight telling him I was in bed—naked. Why would he think anything different?

Oh my gosh! Am I one of those delusional girls pretending there’s something more between Austin and I?

“If I didn’t hear from you by tomorrow, I was gonna beg EmVee for your number.” He chuckles softly. “I’ve got all this band shit going on that I should be worrying about. But my thoughts were consumed with wondering why you hadn’t called me yet.”

I lean back so I can see his face. “Really?”

His eyes are light, clear, gentle. “Um, yeah. I told you I had a crush on you. I haven’t been able to get you out of my head. You’re quite a distraction.”

I’m a distraction? He’s a distraction. A gorgeous, sexy, sweetheart of a distraction, but a distraction all the same. Another reminder of how similar we really are.

The reassurance that Austin has been thinking about me is a relief. I settle onto the couch next to him and drape my legs over his lap as the tension slowly releases.

“I’m going to tell you something about myself. Are you ready?” Austin asks.

I nod. Eagerly anticipating whatever he’s about to reveal. I love his honesty and how easy it is for us to be open with each other.

“I like being in a relationship. And I know you said you weren’t looking for that, you don’t have time, and you don’t want a needy dude—”

“Well, I didn’t mean—” I start to protest.

Austin continues, “I really like you, Liz. I like your drive and your vibe. I feel really comfortable around you. I’m not saying we’re in a relationship or anything; I just want to let you know that I’m not planning to fuck around with anyone else. I feel too connected to you to not give this a real chance.” As he speaks, he slides a hand up and down my thigh. It seems more like nervous energy rather than a sexual touch, but no matter his intention, it has my blood pumping. He finally looks at me. “I sound absolutely crazy, don’t I?”

“No! It doesn’t sound crazy. It’s flattering and reassuring. I feel the same way, Austin. I want to give this a try. I’m glad to know that I’m not the only one who likes to have clear expectations of where we are and how we move forward. It’s usually frowned upon in the world of dating.”

“This is why we’re a great match, Liz. Honesty and transparency. I’m not here to play games.”

“Not even strip poker?” I ask.

“I didn’t realize strip poker was on the table. I’m in if you are. But you better be good, because you’re not wearing much.”

“We both have the same amount of clothing on. Shirt, pants, underwear.”

“Underwear?” Austin scoffs. “Speak for yourself.” Then he unzips his jeans and shows me that he’s completely commando—and getting excited.

“Guess you thought I was a sure thing.”

“You’re the one who answered the door in a tank top and hot pants.”

“These are not hot pants!” I tug the hem of my black shorts. I mean, they’re pretty short, but they cover everything.

“Should we just skip poker and get naked?” Austin asks.

I nod enthusiastically.

Austin slides his hand up and down my back, soothing me silently as we lay in my bed, basking in the afterglow of amazing sex. With my head on his chest, I’m lulled by the beat of his heart. It’s like the world stops when we’re together. My mind is calm instead of racing and thinking about all the things I have to do for work and other things I’m involved in. I’m completely content to be still in this moment with him. I haven’t felt content to be calm in years. Maybe ever.

“So, Maddie’s birthday is coming up and my parents are having a party for her in a few weeks. It’s totally casual, nothing fancy. Everyone hangs out in the yard near the pool,” I ramble. I don’t want the fact that it’s a couple weeks away to freak him out. He says he wants to spend time with me now, but we barely know each other. We may not even be seeing each other by the time the party comes around. “Would you want to go with me?”

“Yes,” Austin says without hesitation.

The knots in my stomach uncoil. “Yeah?”

“Absolutely,” he repeats before squeezing me to his side. “I want to spend every free second with you, Liz.”

“I want that, too,” I say honestly. It doesn’t seem needy or suffocating. I know Austin has his own life. I know he’s not really sitting by his phone waiting for me. But I like knowing that when we do have time, we’ll spend it together. It gives me something to look forward to.

A rush of relief washes over me. Maybe we can make this work. Maybe we can learn to be with each other despite the barriers. “Barriers” being my family and all the superficial reasons they won’t accept him at first. They’ll hate his tattoos. They’ll think he has no ambition—because they won’t know how hard he works. They’ll judge him for not going to college. They’ll lift their noses at the neighborhood where he grew up. Petty things that have nothing to do with a person’s character. Once they get to know him and see how amazing and driven he is they’ll see beyond the things they originally hated about him. They’ll learn to accept him for who he is.

At least that’s the happily-ever-after in the utopian world in my head. My family isn’t as open. They tend to only mix with people they know and feel comfortable with. That’s the drawback of parents who actually believe having money makes them better than other people. I wish they were different.

Instead of being honest about not wanting to pursue relationships with the people in my social circle, I’ve used my career as an excuse for not falling in love. Emily already crushed their dreams for her—but she completely broke away, and I don’t want to do that. Maddie won’t be breaking any molds anytime soon. She’s been dating a narcissistic asshole for years because he’s the son of one of Daddy’s closest business partners. It’s a match made in upper-class heaven.

When did I stop believing in love and start accepting arranged marriages?

Maybe Austin isn’t the person they would have selected for me, but I’m hoping they can get past those judgments and see him for the amazing human he is.