No. It's perfect. Thank you.
King:
You sounded sad this morning. I wanted to help.
Ivy:
You did. More than you know.
King:
Good. That's all I wanted.
I stare at the message, my chest filling with warmth.
By the time I finish my work and drive to Sloane's apartment, it's nearly eight p.m. She opens the door in paint-splattered overalls, her curly auburn hair peeking out of a scarf she's tied around her head.
"Please, tell me you brought food."
"Ate at work. Sorry."
"Traitor." She pulls me inside, collapsing onto her thrift-store couch. "What's with the dreamy expression?"
I avert my gaze. "Nothing."
“Ivy Chandler, I've known you since undergrad. This is not your nothing face." Her eyes narrow. "Does this have anything to do with King?"
Heat fills my cheeks. "Maybe."
"Yes, I knew it." She bounces excitedly.
"He's smart, thoughtful, and actually listens when I talk. He sent me flowers and Thai food today."
Sloane whistles low. "That's serious game. So, when do you meet him?"
"I don't know. What if I'm building him up in my head? Or even worse: what if he meets me and realizes I’m… not what he imagined?"
“Define ‘not what he imagined,’” she says dryly.
“I don’t know. Awkward. Inexperienced. Too much in my head.”
She snorts. “Ivy, if a man is disappointed because you’re thoughtful and cautious and don’t throw yourself at him on date one, that’s not a loss. That’s the trash taking itself out.”
I exhale, some of the tension bleeding off my shoulders. “You make it sound very simple.”
“It is simple,” she says. “It’s just not easy. You like him. That’s the scary part.”
"What did he look like when you picked up the phone? You said he was handsome."
She scrunches her nose, thinking. "Honestly? I didn't pay much attention. He's tall and confident with expensive clothes. His eyes are intense, maybe green or hazel? He has this presence, you know... like he's used to people paying attention to him."
"That's it?"
“Sorry, babe. I was stressed about Dr. O’Connell’s presentation. But if I see him again, I’ll recognize him.”
I try to form a mental image. Tall, confident, intense. Probably toned from all the manual labor he does.
It’s strange. King talks about literature and philosophy. He asks questions about my research that show real understanding. Imagining him in a manual labor job doesn’t quite fit.
