“Love you, too.”
I look back at my phone. Should I say something back? Keep it flirty? Or should I shut it down?
A kaleidoscope of butterflies takes flight in my belly. I decide to stick with honesty and leave it at that.
Me: You’re going to be disappointed to learn that I’m still wearing my work clothes.
Valentine: I don’t think you understand the meaning of the word ‘disappointed’
I stretch my arm out and capture a photo with me surrounded by all the clothing chaos.
Valentine: The only disappointing thing in that photo is that your bag is still empty. Get packing. We have an early morning tomorrow.
Me: It has a sweater.
He doesn’t respond. Probably because he didn’t know how to send a proper glare through text, with his eyes all dark and broody, the lines between them grooved. I smile to myself at the image he makes when he does that.
A knocking sound wakes me from a deep sleep. I crack my sleep-crusted eyes open and swat around my nightstand for my phone. The screen lights up so bright that I have to close my eyes again, but when I finally get them open, a rush of panic hits me. Another knock sounds at my door. I throw the bedcovers off and race into the living room before he can wake Holly.
“I’m sorry. I forgot to set my alarm,” I greet Damian in a whisper as I open the door.
He sweeps his gaze up and down me with a scowl.
“You could have texted. Holly’s still sleeping.”Like a normal person, I add under my breath.
“I did. Ten minutes ago. You didn’t respond.”
It’s too early to care about his sour attitude, so I let it go. I’m grumpy this early in the morning, too.
“I need a few minutes to get ready. I’ll be right back,” I tell him.
“So that isn’t what you were planning on wearing?”
I have to look down to see what I slept in. MyF.R.I.E.N.D.S.T-shirt has seen better days, and paired with my Christmas pajama bottoms,bed head, and sleep lines on my face, I am probably quite the sight. I shoot him an unimpressed glare before going back to my room. A few minutes later, I’m ready to go. I come out of the bathroom from brushing my teeth to see Damian sitting on my small sofa, looking wildly out of place. For the first time this morning, I notice that he’s wearing dark jeans and a gray button-down. He stands when he sees me, coming over to grab my bag. His shirt is untucked, which I am guessing is his idea of casual.
“Thanks.” I heft my overnight bag into his hand, and he takes it like it weighs nothing at all.
We get to his car, and Pete takes a step back from the hood. A couple of teens are across the street, giving off the distinct vibe that they’d like to be causing some trouble.
“You’re good. No one came over to bother your ride,” he tells Damian.
“Thanks. I appreciate that.” Damian pulls his wallet out, but Pete waves him off.
“Keep your money. Just earning what you already gave me.”
I look at Damian.He gave Pete money? When?
He opens the door for me, and we both thank Pete again before taking off.
“Did you give Pete money?” I ask.
“Not today.”
“But before?” I don’t know why I’m so fixated on this. We’ve been spending a lot of time together this past week, and every day, I find out something new about him. But mostly, it’s been facts, childhood memories, and likes and dislikes. Being witness to his character is wholly different.
“Yeah. A few times.”
“How many times?”
