That process takes over an hour, as the moron at the front desk can’t find the paperwork. Finally, he checks the open file that’s been right in front of him at least as long as I’ve been standing here, and we get it all taken care of.
The guy lets me call a cab, and I’m on my way home now, nervous, but feeling for the first time in a long time that I might just be onto something amazing.
I climb the stairs and imagine the worst possible scenarios.
Most people would tell me to be optimistic right now, but every time I’ve gone into something with high hopes, those hopes are dashed in the most horrendous way possible, so right now, I’m imagining her screaming at me, calling me an asshole and a womanizer, telling me that I’m never going to be anything more to her than a rent check.
I can’t help the fact that I’m still smiling.
When I get to the door, I take a breath, and take one final moment to imagine her hitting me over the head with a frying pan and kicking me in the ribs while I’m lying on the floor.
If my inverse-square law of hope has any validity, that thought should seal the deal.
I unlock the door and open it to find Leila and some guy sitting on the couch, making out.
I should probably clear my throat or say something, as neither one seems to have noticed my arrival, but I can’t do anything.
It’s been about an hour and a half since I decided I want to throw caution into the death machine and make the move to be with Leila, and this is the first time I’ve ever seen her with someone.
Inverse-square law, my ass.
I try to slowly back out of the door and leave the two in peace, so hopefully, they never know I was even here, but of course, that’s when my phone rings.
Leila and the guy who was trying to swallow her face jerk and look over at me while I fumble for my phone.
“Dane!” Leila spits. “When did you get in?”
“Just a second ago,” I tell her, still trying to pull the stupid fucking phone from my pocket. “I’m just going to take this outside,” I tell them both, finally, and walk back out the door, closing it behind me.
Once outside, I finally get the phone wrested from my pocket and look at the number.
It’s Wrigley.
This should be interesting.
“Yeah?”
“Dane,” she says, “I need to fuck someone and it needs to be now. You’re not mad at—”
“I’m on my way,” I tell her.
I was off to such a fresh start.
Chapter Eleven
The Favor
Leila
“Mike,” I tell him, “we can’t do this. You’re my best friend in the world, and I don’t want things to get weird.”
“Who says they have to get weird?” he asks. “I’m not talking about changing anything about our relationship. I just want to know if I’m really that bad of a kisser.”
“It’s weird just talking about it,” I tell
him. “I’m sure you’re a fine kisser. Can we leave it at that?”
“I guess,” he says, and turns back toward the television.