There’s a strange feeling of pride in my chest, and it all feels unreal and exciting. I can barely believe it.
I just hope Nico’s day has been as good as mine. Or at least good enough.
I break into a jog to catch the light before the crosswalk sign changes, and as I step up onto the curb on the other side of the street, my phone buzzes. Nico’s name pops up on the screen, and I stop in the shade of one of the trees lining the sidewalk as I click on the notification.
Nico (1:58 p.m.):Where are you?
The immediate relief of seeing his message hits me square in the chest. I shoot him a quick response.
Alex (1:59 p.m.):almost to hotel. u?
I’m still over half a mile from the hotel, but I start walking again at a decent pace. Several minutes later, as I’m turning the corner onto San Carlos, he texts me back.
Nico (2:04 p.m.):I just got back to the room
I can’t read a single thing from the tone of his text, which isn’t anything new. But the simple fact that he texted me back means he’s not in awful shape.
Alex (2:05 p.m.):be there in a few
He almost immediately responds with a thumbs-up emoji, and I grin and pick up my pace even more.
Another ten minutes or so later, I pull my keycard out of my pocket, tap it on the door lock, and then push open the door. The room’s dark and quiet, and I hesitate just inside, stepping forward slowly. When the bed comes into view, my stomach drops. Nico’s lying there under the covers, his back to me. The clothes he was wearing earlier are in a pile on the floor at the foot of the bed, next to the shoes he borrowed from me, and his phone is sitting face down on the nightstand.
“Nico?” I ask softly, not wanting to wake him.
“Hmm?” he answers. Then he shifts over onto his back and opens his eyes partway, turning his head toward me with a weak smile. “You’re late.”
I narrow my eyes as I study him, trying to figure out what it means that he’s lying half naked in bed in the middle of the day after a job interview. And what it means that he’s smiling.
“You were late, too,” I say slowly.
He nods and then lifts up the edge of the comforter and gestures for me to join him. “Vera took me to see three other art galleries she manages in the area,” he explains sleepily as I slip myshoes off and make my way over to the bed. “And then we came back, and she took me to lunch at this café right across from Urban Arts.”
I slip under the blanket, gather him up in my arms, and kiss him gently. He smiles against my mouth, and my heart skips a beat.
“Sounds like it went well?”
“Mmm, yeah. I think so.” With a deep sigh, he closes his eyes and settles his head against my chest. “I’m just exhausted now.”
“Rest, then,” I say quietly, and he nods into me. Within a few minutes, he’s already asleep, his breathing rhythmic and slow. I kiss the top of his head and close my eyes, letting myself rest as well.
I don’t fall asleep, though; my mind’s racing with possibilities. And carefully, so I don’t wake him, I reach into my pocket, pull out my phone, and open up a new browser tab to start a search for one-bedroom apartments nearby.
“So,whatdoyouthink?”
Nico stands next to me, looking up at the newly painted white-brick building sandwiched between a pizza place and a pub. His eyes scan the windows on the second and third floors, and his expression tightens.
“I think it’s crazy that a three-hundred-square-foot studio apartment rents for two thousand a month,” he says. “But the location is perfect.”
“It’s less than a mile from Vera’s gallery. And it’s quiet and private.”
“Yeah.” He glances down at the brochure he’s holding. “All utilities included. And it’s fully furnished.”
“And there’s pizza,” I add, nudging him with my elbow andthen hooking a thumb over toward the pizza place on our left.
He laughs and shakes his head. “You’re hungry?”
“I didn’t have my future employer buy me lunch,” I answer, slipping my arm around his waist.
