Greek (Palm South University)

“I think this is the part where you invite me inside,” she comments with an amused brow.

“Shit, sorry,” I say instantly, opening the door wider and ushering her inside. “Ah, sorry for cursing, too.”

She chuckles at that, hanging her purse on one of the hooks I adhered to the wall just beside the door. And then she’s in my arms, pressing up on her toes, her lips on mine.

“Since when are you sorry for cursing?”

I breathe a laugh against her lips, my shoulders releasing a little now that I’m holding her. “I don’t know. I just…” I pause, shaking my head. “You’re radiant, Erin. As always.”

“Thank you,” she says with a little blush playing on her cheeks. “And you,” she comments next, holding my arms as she pulls back and lets her eyes trail down the length of me. “Are wearing a suit.” She looks at me again. “In your own house.”

I didn’t think it was funny until she said it, and now, I feel about as idiotic as any guy can.

I laugh, kissing her cheek before I release her. “Can’t a guy dress up for his girlfriend for date night?”

“You can dress up for me any time you want,” she says, looping her arm through mine. “But just so you know, you could have worn sweatpants and I’d have loved it just as much.”

“Oh, I know why you love my sweatpants,” I tease.

She giggles, hiding her blush as she presses her face into my chest. But then, she pulls back, sniffing at something in the air and frowning. “Um… is something burning?”

I balk, eyes nearly bulging out of my head as I rip from her grasp and jog across the entryway back to the kitchen.

“Ah, Christ,” I curse when I make it back to the stove and see the burning, ruined sauce in the pan. I cut the burner and pull the pan over to a burner that’s not on, sighing as I debate whether the sauce is salvageable.

It’s not.

Erin chuckles when she comes up behind me, her arms wrapping around my waist, chin resting between the lower part of my shoulder blades. “Whoops.”

I shake my head. “I’m so stupid.”

“No, you’re not.”

“I am.”

“You were distracted.”

“Still, I knew I had it on, I should have turned the heat down or come back over or—”

Erin tugs on me until I turn and face her. “It’s okay, Clinton.”

The sound of my name on her lips has me closing my eyes and letting out a soft breath.

“We can order in,” she continues. “I have to pee, but when I get out, I’ll look on my phone and see what’s around here. Okay? It’s all good. We’ll find something to eat, I promise.”

I nod, but still don’t open my eyes, not until she kisses my cheek and hurries off to the bathroom connected to my bedroom.

The house I found to rent after graduation is small, old, built sometime in the 1940s. It’s a two-bedroom, one-and-a-half bath with a small fenced-in yard and a porch. The floors creak and the plumbing needs updating, but it has charm, and the landlord gave me a price that even Erin said was too good to be true for this close to downtown.

Scrubbing a hand over my face, I finally move from the spot where Erin left me, grabbing the pan like it’s a poor bastard I’m about to pulverize in a street fight. I hastily scrub the charred contents into the trash can and then toss the pan in the sink, turning the water hot as I fill it and squeezing a healthy amount of soap in to soak.

Erin comes back into the kitchen silently, and when I turn and find her watching me with a soft smile and a red rose petal in her hand, all the blood drains from my face.

I completely forgot I had the room all set up — candles, rose petals, music. I thought if she used the restroom, she’d use the half bath in the living area.

“Shit…” I murmur mostly to myself, shoulders deflating as I pinch the bridge of my nose.

I just stay like that, unsure what to say, unsure whether I should try to explain myself or just pretend like I don’t see her standing there. But with a chuckle, Erin crosses the room and sneaks her way into my arms, forcing me to release the hold on my nose so I can wrap her up, instead.

“Hey,” she whispers, waiting until I meet her eyes. “Talk to me. What’s going on?” She frowns then, grabbing ahold of my biceps. “You’re shaking.”

“Because I’m nervous as hell.”

She barks out a laugh at that. “You? Nervous? I didn’t think you were even capable of that emotion.”

“That makes two of us.”

Her brows fold together over her soft brown eyes as they search mine. “Talk to me.”