“I’ll be right here.”
The door closed behind me.
Click.
Clack.
Click.
Clack.
I strutted toward the kitchen. The top of the bouquet met the lining of the trash bag before toppling over and finding its way to the bottom. I squared my shoulders and twisted my body by the heel of my shoes.
Click.
Clack.
Click.
Clack.
I reopened the door. Brandon was still standing behind it.
“Ready?”
“I am.”
He lifted his hand, beckoning for mine. I stepped forward, knowing the loft’s door would lock behind me. So much had changed. I was still adjusting, but the changes were proving to be beneficial.
Hand-in-hand, Brandon and I obliterated the space between our bodies and the elevator. Not much time passed before we were in the rectangular cart waiting for the doors to reopen.
“You smell good,” he complimented.
“Thank you.”
“What are you wearing?”
“Oak.”
“I’m going to have to find that and buy you a lifetime supply.”
“It’s a limited edition.”
The elevator doors opened, urging us to exit.
“And you wore your precious fragrance for me?”
No. I wore it for me.
“Feel special yet?” I asked, stepping forward.
“I felt special the minute you agreed to go out with me. It only took eight years or some shit.”
Chuckling, I shook my head. “I was occupied.”
“The wait wasn’t all that bad,” he lied.
“Well, that’s good to hear.”
