I can’t even remember what it was like not to hate him anymore.
I get to see him in a few hours, but I still need to walk Oliver. I rise to my feet and hurry to the cupboard, grabbing Mr. Noodles’ sack of dry food. It’s not the stuff he wants. I’ve been out of canned food for a couple of days as my temporary lack of employment had put a halt to my shopping. I’ll have to stop at the store on my way home from work or he’ll start to get moody.
“Alright, Mr. Noodles,” I sing out, as I roll up the top of his food bag, sealing off the air. “You are all set. Now I need to get some more recruits.”
As if it has ears, my phone bleeps. It’s my app, sending me messages. I can’t keep up. I’ve been casually messaging a few guys, most of them are boring. When I open my app, I’m greeted with a “Level Up” message, stating I’m eligible to share my name with this one guy.
He’s the one who makes me smile with his sarcasm, and he’s spent the last two days trying to get me to type the letter Y. We haven’t chatted a ton. In a way, that makes me like him more. Like he has a life outside of cruising for hotties online. I clamp down on my lips and pause. I knew this request was coming. I’m the one who designed the app, but was I ready to tell someone online my name?
But what could it hurt? Just a first name.
Then we can chat for another week before I am forced to decide if I want to share a pic. Before I overthink it, I accept the request, type in my name and press send. He’ll also have to accept the request before I can hear back. My stomach twists thinking about it.
I breathe out a cleansing breath, and throw my coat on, while slipping my feet into my sneakers. I’ve got a dog to walk, and recruits to find.
I can’t say I’ve ever been excited to work on New Year’s Eve before. Other years, it felt like a bad omen. Since I don’t have exciting plans—other than eating chili with my parents—I look forward to getting out of the house.
Who am I kidding?
My blood is ripping through my veins with adrenaline because I can’t stop thinking about Christian. Had I imagined all that chemistry last night? I was dying to see if he’d act any differently today. What if, by some amazing miracle, we end up working so super late, and one thingleads to another and we share a midnight kiss?
I blush so hard my toenails rouge.
I pace my tiny apartment, smoothing my hair several times as Mr. Noodles’ head swings back and forth as if he was watching a giant pendulum. What will I say to Christian? Do I pretend everything’s professional? Well, everything technically is still professional on the outside.
Inside, my heart won’t stop belting out rapid beats. I tilt my head to the side, remembering how he rakes his hand through his hair when nervous. He has great hair. And he takes care of his sister. That feels honorable. And we both love coffee. Still, who doesn’t?
That one doesn’t count.
He did save my life when I was choking.
Gotta give him that much.
Yep, that solves it.
Saving my life means he’s a keeper.
I am clearly smitten.
I don’t want to wait another minute to see him, and I rush out of the door. The air is brisk, but the sun is shining exceptionally brightly. The kind of brightness you see in all your best memories.
Strolling through the crowds of people on the sidewalk, I can’t break the smile on my face, and my toes curl. I make it to work in record time, and my phone bleeps. It’s my app, but I ignore it. Inhaling a final breath of fresh air, I open the door and immediately search for Christian. My heart stops pumping without notice, and I freeze.
He’s standing by the window. As his gaze meets mine, I can’t pretend I don’t feel chemistry. “Hey.” I throw my hand up in a soft wave. “How are you?”
“So much is going on right now.” He tilts his head to the side, as if he’s weighing a decision. “So much is happening, and the room is spinning."
“What’s wrong?”
“Well, two things. First.” He flashes his phone at me with an unreadable text message on the screen. “I have been trying to reach my grandmother for a few days without hearing anything back. I thought she was ignoring me. I finally got a reply from my dad on her behalf. She’s not doing well.”
“Oh.” My heart immediately aches for him, and I so badly want to give him a hug, but instead I wring my hands together. “I’m sorry.”
“El is feeling mostly better, and we're planning to go see her. The only flights available are tomorrow night. We don’t want to wait that long and are considering driving.” Flecks of sorrow flash in his eyes. “I just need someone to cover the store.”
“I can do it.” I drop my purse on the nearby table, as it suddenly feels heavy.
“We shouldn’t be gone long, and you can close early when it’s slow.”
