I wonder what Lincoln does for a living?
Damn. I’m thinking about him again. All these questions will hopefully find answers tomorrow.
Chapter 7
Lincoln
Thedayhasfinallyarrived, and I feel no better prepared than when she swiped yes. In fact, we haven’t even spoken again since. A few times my fingers hovered over the app, but what would I say?
Today, though, I have no choice.
With a deep breath, I open the app and go straight to our conversation.
Hey Valerie. I just wanted to make sure we were still on for tonight?
I should have reached out! Of course. As long as you still can that is.
At least she’s considerate of my time.
Yeah I’m good to go. What time should I pick you up? You said around 4:00 right?
Yeah that’s perfect. My address is 571 North Briston Ave.
That’s surprisingly only about five minutes from me. Though, maybe not too shocking. Our town is certainly a tiny one.
Okay, I know where that is. Not too far from me. Anything I should know before I come over?
I don’t think so. We can work on our story on the drive over. Sure you don’t mind driving? I can instead if you want.
Ha. That’s funny. I always drive. And not just because I love my car.
Not a chance. I like driving. Attire?
It’s not fancy, no suit needed ;) But nice pants and maybe a nice sweater? I’ll be wearing a skirt and blouse so it’s a little nicer than jeans.
I like her play on the suit. Good move as it makes a smile pull up the corners of my mouth.
Gotcha. Okay. I’ll be there at 4:00 sharp.
She doesn’t say anything else. She’s either not one that says goodbye, or doesn’t know how to on the app. It can be a bit awkward.
Thankfully, it’s already one in the afternoon so I don’t have much time to mull over what to do with my day.
Before closing the app, I take one last look at her profile. There’s one thing I’ll be doing before I show up, and I certainly hope she appreciates it.
Chapter 8
Valerie
Thedoorbellchimesatexactly four o’clock. I’m still putting the back on my last pearl earring as I walk to answer the door.
And when it swings open, I’m met with the back of a tall, dark-haired man.
When he turns around, all the air is stolen from my lungs. Dark eyes that match the hair meet me with such intensity they almost burn. With a quick glance up and down my body, a smile creeps across his face.
I’ve gone with a red and white plaid skirt, black tights, and an emerald-green blouse, diving into the Christmas spirit.
Lincoln’s wearing black slacks and a red sweater, from what I can see over the top button of his slate peacoat.
