Ivy is relentless. After two decades of friendship, I am no newbie to her double and quadruple messages. Nor am I a stranger to her unhinged texts that I wouldn't dare let anyone else see. I like to think that I've grown immune to her dark and inappropriate texts. But sending me links and reviews to secret sex-clubs and kinky dating apps while I'm at work is my Ivy-ness limit.

      Texting on the job is not something I encourage, but something has to give before she gets me fired. Only minutes ago, I nearly smacked my boss in the face with my stethoscope, the dick pick that had appeared on my watch giving me whiplash. And so, I pray the universe forgives my lacking professional conduct, as I sneak into the bathroom to either request that my best friend act like a civilized human for a few hours, or I temporarily block her number.

      Me: For the sake of my job and career, I am on my hands and knees, begging you to stop sending me this shit during work hours.

      Ivy: Oops. Not my fault that your schedule is shitty... Are you not the least bit enticed to apply to DaddyFinder or Thot.com?

     I pinch the bridge of my nose and swallow my laughter that this conversation isn't entirely a joke. I'm both amused and exasperated that these are real sites that Ivy seems to believe are my only hope.

      Me: I was kind of put off from all your dating apps when my boss almost saw the raging boner logo for DomSeeker.com, on my watch!

     Ivy: Double oops. Although I'm not that sorry considering I'd probably be doing you a favor by getting you fired. How is the hell hole, today?

      I roll my eyes. Many people don't understand the appeal of nursing when it entails various sacrifices and occasional abuse. Ivy is one of those people. I'm one of those people sometimes.

      Me: Same old stuff. I only stepped in one puddle of pee so that's a win... In other news, we're meeting the new social worker that was hired to "ease our workload". They've already got a brand-new laptop and desk in the office. They must have gotten a good deal, since they still can't afford to get me a bladder scanner.

      Ivy sends a stream of laughing emojis in honor of my pettiness, and then her mind drifts back towards its usual focus of interest.

      Ivy: Maybe he'll be hot!

     Me: Or maybe she'll be a middle-aged catholic woman that thinks my nose ring is a show of rebellion and delinquency.

      Ivy: Christ. Aren't you supposed to be to the cheesy, optimistic one?

     Me: My bad. Let me try again... Maybe he'll be my brother's childhood best friend who hasn't been able to maintain a worthwhile relationship since he took my virginity before we parted ways for college. #Ready for that Wattpad life

      Ivy: Correction brother's HOT best friend. I feel the hotness in my bones.

     Ivy: Send pics please!!

     If only I had a brother. I roll my eyes and put the phone away.

      The social worker is hot alright. Ivy would love this one. I've only gotten a look at the back of him, but it's a very nice back, and those tight trousers are working wonders for his ass. Though I don't think the trousers should get all the praise. He's either been blessed by genetics or hours in the gym. I'm dying to get a closer look at the forearms displayed by his rolled-up sleeves, and the face that surely matches his body if the old ladies' reactions are anything to go by.

      They are absolutely swooning. He's already got them wrapped around his finger. Even Martha is fanning herself. That woman still curses employees that have been here for months. She only started tolerating me when she heard me cursing in the med room when I thought I was alone.

      I smile at the way he makes the Gossip Gals laugh. My smile wavers when his laughter reaches my ear. Deep and guttural: the type of laughter you seek to hear often... but also familiar. The familiarity flickers uneasiness in my chest. Uneasiness transforms into horror when he turns his head enough that I get a view of side profile.

      I scold myself for not recognizing those swooping blond locks, but I haven't seen him in years... My childhood crush: Casper McLain.

      A silly third-grade crush, there's no reason for me to get this worked-up. Still, I'm suddenly planning my exit. I can't explain my uneasiness, but I am very much contemplating faking period cramps to go home early.

      Just as I'm inching towards the door, Martha decides to act like her usual pain in the ass.

      "There's my favourite meathead." She grins at me. I huff at the nickname. Once I told her she couldn't call me tit-head, meathead stuck as its replacement. Only a moderate improvement. "Come meet the social worker. Maybe if you tease him with a little cleavage, he'll agree to the strip show. I'd take one for the team, but my cleavage has fallen well below my waistline."

      I swallow my groan and approach the group. "Please ignore Martha, we all do."

      She jabs me in the shin with her cane. "You little liar. You're as bad as I am, you just hide it better."

      Casper's laughter fades when he turns to face me. Recognition flickers across blue irises, and his lips quirk with what appears like delighted surprise. Ten years is a long time, but he still has the same dimples and mischievous glint in his eyes. Only now he's a foot taller than me and has shoulders sturdy enough to flip me over. I've seen the occasional online picture since we parted in elementary school, but nothing compares to the real deal.

      He shakes my hand with sparkling eyes. "Pleasure to meet you." I'm not sure why he's playing the stranger game, but I narrow my eyes at his approach.

      "Isn't he a looker?" Eileen prompts, as if I'm not already embarrassed. If I admit that he's hot as sin, can I escape this conversation? "I'd bet my next two weeks of bingo money, that you don't know a thing about rejection. I'm sure you've got no trouble with the ladies."

      Clearly, if the drool on her chin was anything to go by.

     Though he speaks to Eileen, Casper's gaze never leaves mine. "Actually..." His pointed gaze makes me cower. God, he was not bringing this up. "The year was 2009, when my poor heart was shattered. I confessed my feelings to the girl I liked and all she did was smile."

      I'm not sure what to do with my hands. Smack him or hide my face.

     Nothing passes Martha. She understands what he's not saying. I get another tap on the shin. "You really are a tit-head!"

      While I grunt at her language, Casper throws his head back in laughter. My eyes follow the way the vein in his neck tenses when he does so. I imagine running my tongue across the vein. God, what is wrong with me? Ivy tricked my mind into horny mode with all her talk of sex.

      "Why on earth would you do that?" Mary accuses, as her and Eileen seem to catch on.

      Her comment only makes Casper's grin grow, and he raises his brows to urge an answer.

      "We we're in 3rd grade!" I defend. "And you didn't even tell me yourself."

     "I told you what she said was true."

     I huff in defeat. "Well, if it makes you feel better, I totally had a crush on you too."

     I don't expect the shock on his features. He looks taken aback, as if those few words that parted my lips have him reconsidering his whole life. I'm worried he's going to question me more, but I'm saved by my work phone ringing. As much as I want to curse that thing some days, it's handy today.

      Duty calls. Unfortunately, duty is a staff meeting that includes an introduction to our newest member, and I'm the lucky one who gets to show him to the board room.

      I don't give Casper the chance to speak on our short walk. I babble about our last meeting, filling him in on topics that might come up. He looks bewildered by my verbal diarrhea but doesn't bother interrupting me.

      Once we reach the board room, I make a point of sitting at the far end of the table. My hope of distancing myself from Casper dies when he follows me and takes the chair next to mine. Because everyone has to gossip a little before getting started, Casper finally has the chance to speak. He leans towards me with a grin that could cause cardiac arrest.

      "How long have you've been working here?"

      "Just about two years."

      "I should have known I'd find you in this career. You always were nurturing. The only person to make sure I saw the school nurse when gym class got rough."

      I can't help but smile at the countless memories of sitting next to Casper as he held an ice pack to his bloody nose. His nose is still a little crooked from a break that went untreated.

      "Funny you didn't share the sentiment when I tripped over the sandbox, trying to run away from you."

      "I panicked," he laughs. "You were so upset with me."

      I barely register the Director of Care walking in, only looking up when she greets Casper. "I see you've already met Desirae."

      "Many years ago. It's nice to see a familiar face." He looks at me with a smirk that screams trouble. "Last time I saw her she was wearing pigtails."

      I roll my eyes at the exaggeration. I was not wearing pigtails at 14 years old. "I'm surprised you recognized me."

      He snorts incredulously. "As if I could forget the number one wish on my 2005 Christmas list."

     I shake my head and press my lips in silent laughter. "Please start before he embarrasses me some more." I beg. Or before Mrs. Nosy beside me starts conjuring stories about Casper and me.

      Though everyone laughs, my request is granted.

      I manage to avoid Casper for the rest of my shift. I have no valid reason to avoid him. We haven't had any grand falling outs. We're merely old acquaintances. His presence shouldn't affect me as much as it is... But Casper has always been magnetic, with a contagious laugh and bright smile. Age has only added to his charm.

      Speak of the devil, though I ran late tonight again, and walk out the front door thirty minutes after the end of my shift, I find Casper sitting on the front steps.

       "What are you still doing here?" I ask.

      He shrugs. "I wanted to introduce myself to the night staff, and a few more residents. I'm hoping to learn everyone's name by next week."

      "That's ambitious."

      "I want to make a good impression."

      "I think you've already achieved that." The gushing I heard about him was unbearable. As if I needed a reminder of his attractiveness. "Martha is quite convinced that you're going to be hosting a strip show."

      "God, she's a firecracker. While I'm up for the challenge, I don't think the board will approve."

      I snort, willing my mind to not drift towards images of Casper stripping. "Firecracker is right. You just wait until you find yourself a victim of those knobby fists."

      He laughs again. "She reminds me of you."

     "I beg your pardon?"

     "Don't pretend you haven't always been a little bit of a brat."

      While the comment itself is innocent, I can't help but hear the double innuendo. The idea of being a brat, of challenging Casper sends a thrill down my spine. I must be imagining his flirting. He's always been charming. This is just how he is.

      He shoots me another smirk and my thighs only clench tighter. "I've got to know more about this not so unrequited love."

      "I was a very awkward kid. You know I didn't speak much unless someone asked me something specific."

      "Are you saying all I had to do was specifically ask you how you felt?" he deadpans.

      "Wild idea, right?" I tease. He sticks his tongue out at me but leans forward with intrigue. "I probably would have said yes. But I was also panicking, because..." I pause dramatically. "I also liked Lawson, and I didn't want to come between the two of you." Lawson was Casper's best friend. They were inseparable throughout elementary, and throughout high school from the pictures I saw.

      His eyes shine in a way that implies secret keeping. "He liked you too, then."

      That certainly wasn't a secret. "Oh, I know. Only added to my dilemma. You both had my 9-year-old self very stressed."

      Casper laughs silently, looking up at the sky as if he and the universe were sharing an inside joke. I shift awkwardly on my feet, wondering when I should keep making way for my car.

      "You know he and I still... hangout."

     "You and Lawson?"

      He nods and I can't help but smile. I'm glad they're still friends. They've always shared something special.

      "Yep. Still as close as ever." He studies me silently, and my heart races at his obvious look of assessment. He's sizing me up. "We should all catch up, sometime. I'm sure he'd love to see you again. I'd love to watch his reaction when you tell him about your little shared crush."

      I groan my laughter. "You're having too much fun with this information."

      "Are you off this weekend?" The missed chance to tease me, has my head snapping his way.

      "What?"

      "Are you. Off. This weekend?" He speaks slowly, enunciating every word.

     "Yes." I swallow nervously. "It's my weekend off."

      "Come over?"

       "What?" I squeak. Though my heart is pounding, palms rapidly accumulating sweat, the way he looks up at me with pleading eyes leaves me helpless. Those damn siren eyes.

      "Come over." He repeats firmly. "The three of us can catch up over supper. My treat."

      I'm silent despite his peering eyes. That sounds like a terrible idea. It sounds like a pure night of torture on my end.

       "My bad." He slaps a palm against his forehead. "History repeats itself. Let me be more specific: Will you join Lawson and I for supper, this Saturday night?

      There's no escaping that one. A yes or no question. He caught me in my own trap.

     What am I really afraid of? That I'll get so horny that I'll jump Casper's bones the minute the opportunity presents itself? I do have some self-control. Plus, Lawson will be there. What can go wrong?

       Before I get the chance to doubt my decision, I add my number to Casper's phone and drive away.