“So,” he said as we got into the elevator at the same time that night. I knew he’d totally planned this, but I wasn’t complaining.
“So.”
“Your place or mine?” he said, moving closer to me and taking my hand. I pulled mine away, because we were still in the building and I wasn’t taking any chances.
“Well, I have a roommate, sooo . . .”
“Ah, right. My place then. I’d like to see your place though.” I didn’t want him to see it until I’d cleaned it and then the housekeeper had come and then I’d cleaned it again.
“Maybe sometime. But do you mind if I go home first and get some things? Not that I don’t love using your shower gel, but your shampoo sucks.”
He nodded and the elevator reached the ground floor and we exited together.
“See you . . . in an hour? Don’t worry about eating. I’ll take care of dinner.” Ah, a man who took charge. Sexy.
“Okay.”
“Okay.” There was a pause, as if both of us wanted to kiss the other good-bye, but we couldn’t. People walked around us, oblivious.
I ducked my head and headed out the door and he followed behind me and then we went our separate ways.
My phone rang a few seconds later.
“Hello, Miss Clarke.” I turned around and he was still visible about a hundred feet down the sidewalk.
“Hello, Mr. Blaine. Was there something you needed?”
“No. I just wanted to ask you what you wanted for dinner.” I swore I could see his smile shining at me from this distance.
“Surprise me. Good-bye, Mr. Blaine. I’ll see you in an hour.” I ended the call and kept walking toward the T.
~*~*~
About ten minutes later, my phone buzzed with a text message from him.
How do you feel about pizza?
I shook my head and typed a response.
Pizza and I have been in an intimate relationship for many years. I would marry pizza if I could.
I sent it and waited for a response as I walked back up to the street level and started toward my apartment. My phone buzzed with a response.
Who am I to stand in the way of true love? Pizza it is.
I smiled and put my phone away. Texting and walking was a dangerous sport and I didn’t want any part in it.
Sloane wasn’t back yet from work, so I texted her and she said she was stuck at the studio and might be pulling an all-nighter. That wasn’t unusual when she was working on something new, or preparing for a show, so I told her that I was sending her imaginary coffee and if she did get home I wouldn’t be there because I was also stuck at the office. And by stuck, I meant having sex and by office, I meant with Lucas.
I’d fill her in tomorrow. I just didn’t want to get into why this was such a bad life decision now. Lucas was waiting.
I spent most of the hour away from him trying to pick out the best set of underwear I owned. I still had the two pieces from Sloane, but he’d seen them already and I felt kind of weird wearing them again. So I chose a simple white lace bra and white panties. They were sweet and comfortable and I hoped he liked them.
Since we were having pizza, I figured the night was going to be casual, so I went with a comfortable t-shirt that made my boobs look great, and black skinny jeans. I took my hair out and put up again in a loose ponytail. I did one last check in the mirror, made sure I had enough supplies in my bag for any emergencies (tampons, toothbrush, deodorant, birth control) and I was off.
The entire cab ride to Lucas’ I alternated between giddy excitement and telling myself what a terrible idea this was, while picturing scenes in which he and I were caught in the act and there was a dramatic firing and my Dad just shook his head in shame at me.
The cab stopped outside Lucas’ apartment and I paid the fare and got out, my legs a little wobbly.