“Gracie, what happened to your ass?” he cries.
“What do you mean?” I lean backwards to try and look at my butt.
“It’s…out!”
“Oh, that! Yes, that’s part of the outfit,” I assure him.
“You’re a total nut job, do you know that?” he asks.
I shrug, embarrassed and a little confused, but happy to see him and thrilled that he hasn’t run out the door yet.
He puts his arms around me and squeezes me in a hug. “I was having an awful day, and you just turned it completely upside down.”
“Really?”
“Mm hmm,” he says, burying his nose into my hair.
“What happened?”
“No,” he says. “First of all, I can’t have a serious conversation with you when you look like this. We either need to move into the bedroom or you need to go change, and maybe wash your face. My God! That’s not even why I called you!” he says. “Shit! Did you really think I came here for sex?”
“Well, I mean—” I begin. Then, I smack him on the arm. “You asshole! You changed the plans on me so last minute! And said I ‘sounded ready’ when I told you I just got out of the shower! What was Isupposedto think?”
“Okay. So, to clarify. If I want to hit you up for a booty call, I will be way more explicit in the future. Now, I’m not suggesting that Idon’twant to engage in”—he waves his hands up and down in front of me—“all ofthis, but not for our first time together. I’m not a complete dickhead,” he says. “I actually like you, Gracie. I’d like it to be—”
“Special?” I ask.
“Yes. Special,” he says.
“Terrific. I’m so glad we’re on the same page,” I say. The heat rises into my chest, and I am almost a hundred percent convinced that I am breaking out in hives all over my body. “Go sit down,” I say, waving my hand towards the couch in the living room. “And please close your eyes so I can walk past you without you seeing my bare ass again.”
He laughs. “Sure,” he says and walks in front of me to the living room. He sits, closes his eyes, and as I walk into my bedroom, I hear him ask, “Hey, why is the couch wet?”
“Wet? Or just damp?” I call out, wrestling my upper half out of the stupid bustier.
“I guess just damp,” he says.
“It’s Febreze,” I reply. “I’m sorry. I’m a complete shit show today.”
“You’re fine,” he assures me. “I smell it, now that you mention it. But you know what your house really smells like?” he asks.
Oh, God.“What?”
“Like a Yankee Candle store. Have you ever been in one?”
“Ha! Yes, I have. Super overpowering.” I put on a regular pair of underwear and a white cotton bra. Then, I wonder aloud, “So, we’renothaving sex today then?”
Colin laughs. “What?”
“I’m just trying to get dressed here and want to make sure it’s fine if I wear normal underwear!”
I hear him laughing, but no answer.
My phone dings. I grab it from the dresser and check it. It’s a text—from Colin. I open it. I see a picture of what appears to be red, black, and white plaid. “What the hell is this?” I yell.
“It’s my underwear. Clearly, you’re having a tough time figuring yourself out today. I’m wearing boxers, jeans, a T-shirt, and a sweatshirt. Coordinate accordingly, if you like,” he calls back.
I shake my head, smiling. I’m reminded of the line Melly always says: “If you’re gonna be a mess, at least be ahotmess.”
