I’m lying. I’m currently living by myself. But at least if it’s at his house, I get to control when I leave. I don’t have to witness his speedy exit the next morning when he catches a glimpse of my face.
I really should consider being a vampire. Lack of daylight is a big thing in my life right now.
“My place is fine,” he says as he fishes his phone from his pocket to order an Uber.
I’m almost vibrating with anticipation as I stand next to him. I’m going to have sex! And with a hunky guy who’s looking at me like I’m someone worth chasing instead of someone to escape from.
“I can’t wait to see your lightsaber,” I say. And I relish in the sound of Darth Vader’s laugh.
“Careful what you wish for. There’s a chance that once you go to the dark side, you’ll never go back.”
“Scared of the dark side, I am not.”
He grins. “This is simultaneously the weirdest and hottest conversation I’ve ever had.”
“Weird and hot, my specialty they are. Lucky for you, hmm?”
Darth Vader laughs again.
God, I’m having fun right now. I’ve almost forgotten what it’s like to do this, to feel this light. This free.
I’m guessing we’ll have to ditch his voice synthesizer at some point when we get naked, but I’m slightly sad about that fact.
Luckily, the Uber arrives before the world has to endure any more poorly executed Yoda innuendos that would make George Lucas weep.
We slide into the back seat. The driver glances in the rearview mirror, takes in our costumes, and seems to decide he’s seen weirder things tonight.
“BigStar Warsfans?” he asks as he pulls out from the curb.
“Uh…yeah,” Darth Vader responds, his hand finding its way to my thigh.
I try to focus on not combusting while we drive through the streets. I’m already half-hard just from anticipation about the upcoming fun. But then something distracts me from the weight of his palm on my leg.
The route the Uber is taking is familiar to me. That’s the coffee shop I discovered yesterday. And that’s the dodgy takeaway place my new neighbor warned me about.
My stomach drops. This is my neighborhood. My new neighborhood in Auckland, where I moved specifically to start over, where no one knows what I used to look like.
The Uber pulls up outside an apartment building, and my stomach falls even further.
What the hell?
“You live here?” I squeak, forgetting my Yoda persona in my surprise.
He gives me a curious look. “Yeah, this is my apartment building.”
Okay, so that isn’t the greatest fact of the evening because this is alsomyapartment building. The one I moved into exactly one week ago. The universe is either trying to tell me something or laughing at me.
Possibly both.
Shit.
As I follow him out of the Uber, my mind is spinning.
Should I tell him I live here too? Will that be a dealbreaker? What’s the expected etiquette in this situation?
Unfortunately, it turns out it’s not just the apartment building we have in common. Darth Vader leads the way to the second floor, which is also the floor my apartment is located on.
And suddenly, I know exactly who he is.
