At least I don’t think so.
Then again, I barely know him except that he looks criminally hot on the day we’re supposed to meet up and sync our stories.
I can’t be thinking about sex right now.
He’s my buffer, I remind myself. I have to let him, well, buff for me.
Picking up my phone, I consider panic-texting the group chat with my best friend, Maddie, and my sister, Ari.
I tap on the thread I’ve titled “The F’n GD Delights,” an abbreviation of Ari’s favorite phrase to describe our tight-knit group. My thumb scrolls over the conversation from last night.
I just asked Rowdy to be my date to the art gala HAVE I LOST MY MIND
Ari
I’m sorry…WTF… that is kind of perfect tho
IT’S NOT A REAL DATE. He’s just going to be my social…buffer?
Maddie
Rowdy rubbing elbows with old money art collectors. What could go wrong?
Ari
Hush, Maddie. Maybe it’s true loooove?!
This is why I don’t tell people my business.
I decide not to fan the flames that I started with that conversation. I don’t need Ari and Maddie putting any more notions of romance into my head.
At the sound of the doorbell, my soul leaves my body, and I drop my phone.
Okay, calm down, I think as I pace around the place again, checking my outfit. Just my painting frock and leggings, per usual. What am I getting so worked up about? He’s just a guy. He’s no different than any other guy who burps, farts, is obsessed with fantasy football, and can’t find things in the bathroom cabinet that are right in front of his face, probably. Hm. It’s unfair to assume Rowdy is exactly like my ex, but thesesorts of assumptions help me push aside any attraction I might feel.
I run over to the wall and push the button.
“Hi.”
“It’s your 10 a.m. portrait sitting.”
Okay, he’s a jokester. I kind of picked up on that.
I press the button that opens the street-level door to let him up. Should I wait at the top of the stairs? Should I go change? What do I do?
Casual, casual, casual, Riley.
I grab a bottle of water from the mini fridge and crack it open. It’ll make me look breezy if I’m drinking water while watching him climb the long flight of stairs.
Rowdy looks up at me as he ascends the stairs with the drink tray, and the smile is so much. He is beaming at me.
For half a second, I allow that smile to make me feel special, the way I feel when a dog I don’t know ambles up to me on the street. Like that, but 10 times better.
And, because it’s me, I end up spilling every drop of water down my shirt.
“Damn!”
“Hey, you got a hole in your bottom lip, just like me!”
