The bell rang,echoing through the small nurse’s office. In total, the suite wasn’t small, with the two rooms that housed the cots for the students, a bathroom, an office, and a walk-in storage closet that held supplies and all the students’ medicine. A wall of windows separated her office from the hallway, which made the space feel bigger. But when the harsh clang of the bell bounced off the concrete walls, glass windows, and tile floor, it felt like a tin can.
She pushed back the rolling desk chair and headed for the door.
“Hi, Ms. Adams.” One of the few teenagers loitering the hallways between classes waved.
“Get to class, Avery. You don’t want to be late.” Bridget smiled at the girl as she pulled her door shut.
Her lunch break was during fifth period. Barring an actual emergency, the students would report to the main office with their ailments, which consisted mostly of “I don’t want to be in class” headaches. She didn’t often officially take the break. She mostly ate at her desk with the door open, dealing with anyone who came in, but today she’d made a promise.
Not that she was certain he’d really call.
Ryan had texted after the game last night. She’d been asleep, but she’d responded when she saw the message the next morning. He had texted back, asking when she was free to talk for a few minutes. She wasn’t sure what he wanted to talk about, but he said it wasn’t a big deal, and her lunch period was perfect timing.
She shut the venetian blinds that allowed her privacy from the hallway before resettling at her desk with her chicken salad and water bottle when her phone buzzed.
Ryan: You still good to talk?
She replied and grabbed her ear buds, popping them in as his call was already coming through.
“Hello.”
“Hey, baby.” Ryan’s deep voice echoed in the pit of her stomach. “How’s your day been?”
“Uneventful,”she answered over the static of the line.
“Where are you?”
He chuckled. “Probably somewhere over Tennessee, but I’m not exactly sure.”
She paused with the water bottle halfway to her mouth. “Like on a plane?”
“Yeah. Heading to Miami for a night game.”
“Wow, you’re calling me from the plane.” That seemed like a big deal, not like a quick phone call he’d asked for.
She set her water bottle down and sat forward in the chair, bracing herself for whatever this might be.
“It’s when you said you had time. Most of us sleep. Some guys call their girls or watch movies, so it’s not like anyone’s paying attention. And I want to talk to my girl.”
“Oh.” Maybe the “my girl” was a line, but it made her heart skip a beat and her mind race. What would it feel like to have him come home to her at night? Pull her close and make her body come alive. Feel his lips against her skin again, and his body pressed into hers.
He cleared his throat. “So, you’re not much better on the phone than you are with texting, huh?”
His rich voice jarred her out of her daydream.
“Jo does claim I’m terrible at the phone, no matter what the method,” Bridget agreed.
“I can work with that. Which is why I wanted to talk. I’m hoping the other night wasn’t just a one off, Bridg.”
She pressed her lips together, staring at her chicken salad. Ryan was a partier. He was photographed multiple times a week in bars or clubs around the country. Usually with different women. He was a great pitcher, and the fans loved him, but he was known as a work hard, play hard type of man. That wasn’t her life.
“Because I’m tasking myself with teaching you phone etiquette, I’ll explain that this would be whereyoutalk.” Ryan chuckled, but she heard the discomfort in his voice.
“Are you saying, ‘hey, when I’m in Tahoe again, let’s repeat the other night’?” After the way her last relationship had gone, understanding exactly what someone meant became vital to her.
“What? No, that’s not what I meant at all. Jeez, Bridg, we’re clearly not on the same page. And I’m starting to get a complex here.”
“Then explain where you’re at,” she demanded, smashing her fork into the chicken salad. “Because I thought we agreed to a fun night—which we had.”