I Can Fix That

We reached my car, and I grabbed my keys. “I only had one glass of wine over three hours. I’m fine, I promise.”

“All right, well, I’ll see you on Tuesday night.”

“What’s Tuesday night?”

“That’s when I’m fixing your oven. It’s the earliest I can get over there without doing it at ten at night.”

“Oh right, I’m not in a rush, just whenever. I’ll text you my address. Thanks again for hanging out with me here. Honestly, I didn’t think I’d have a good time, but it was pretty fun.”

He flashed me that same small, one-sided grin and opened my car door. “Yeah, it was. I enjoyed it more than I thought I would.” I was pressed against my car with his body inches away from me.

He reached up to grab a stray hair and tucked it behind my ear. “Do me a favor? Text me when you’re home.” I nodded my head, chills running down my arms.

He walked away as if this didn’t affect him at all. I honestly couldn’t believe what happened during the last few hours.

When I got home I texted Grant that I was home safe. I went to bed that night with my mind racing, reliving every single moment, every touch, every smile he displayed, every meaningful look in his eyes. I couldn’t help but wonder if he was staying up tonight doing the same thing.