I freeze and turn slowly.
Emily stands in her doorway, hair dripping, her fingers clutching her robe closed, rivulets of water sliding down her face, neck, and legs. Her eyes are wide, her full pink lips parted in surprise. She probably ran from the shower, her chest rising and falling too rapidly for someone who just opened a door.
Jesus Christ.
She's more beautiful up close than from a distance. I mean, I already knew that, but goddammit, I cannot look away.
"Hi. Hey, Alex. Alex, right? Alex from 3A? What's up? Something's up?" Her smile is all teeth, and she darts her eyes to whatever is behind me.
Ah, so maybe it wasn't a mistake after all. Perhaps it really was her.
"Hello, Emily. You left something under my door."
Her face flushes deep red. "Oh God. That. Oh, ahh…I was ... I mean, I had wine, and my friend was ... It was stupid, I'm sorry.It was not my intention to make you uncomfortable or to make you feel unsafe living next door to me. You can just forget about it. Please. Pretend it never happened. I was going to leave you another note apologizing but then I thought that might make it even worse and?—"
"Did you mean it?"
Her face goes slack. "What?"
"The card. Did you mean it? What you wrote, I mean?”
Emily clearly didn't expect that question because she snorts, then blows a raspberry, and chuckles nervously. "I guess ... some of it? I don't know. I mean, obviously not the elevator thing, that would be crazy. And inappropriate. And probably illegal. Public indecency or something? Crazy, right! Roberta would go nuts. But I?—"
"Have dinner with me tomorrow night, Valentine's Day.”
Her mouth forms an 'o', and she scrunches her forehead. She starts to say something, then stops, then tries again. I didn't realize you could actually observe a person's entire thought process until now. "Wait, what?"
"You made an offer. I'm cashing in. Dinner on Valentine's Day." I pause, searching her face. "Unless you didn't mean it, and I was in on some elaborate prank."
"No! I mean, yes. I meant it. The dinner part. Yes. Just a normal dinner where we eat at a restaurant. Nothing inappropriate or even remotely illegal. Got it." She swipes a few strands of hair sticking to her forehead. "You want to have dinner. With me. Tomorrow night. Valentine's dinner."
"Seven o'clock. I'll knock."
She nods, still looking shell-shocked. "Seven. Yes. Okay. At night. Seven at night. Good, good, good. See you."
Trying to hide my smile, I turn and walk back to my apartment before I do something stupid like kiss her right there in the hallway.
As I close my door, though, I hear Emily's shut too. Then a muffled sound—something between a squeal and a laugh.
I smile so wide my cheeks hurt.
Good god, what have I just done? What do I even wear?
After spendingthe entire day today, alternating between disbelief that it wasn't a prank, nor a mistake, and confirmation that it was definitely Emily. And nervousness. Me, on a date. With a woman. Tomorrow. With my neighbor. Valentine’s Day. My God! What do we even talk about? Will I go embarrass myself and get tongue-tied? I have nothing interesting to chat about. And I abhor aimless small talk anyway.
Come Saturday, Valentine’s Day, I was a bundle of nerves and restlessness. With a few hours to spare, I decide to buy new clothes for the date.
Normally, I'd just pick something from my closet. Whatever is closest to hand. But this is different. I need to impress Emily enough to want a second or third date. I want to impress, so I have to go all out. Pull out all the stops, so to speak.
I'm ready by 6:30 PM. I've showered two times, almost finished a bottle of perfume. Polished my shoes to a mirror finish until I could see my own reflection.
Dark pants, a black button-down, dress shoes.
At precisely 7:00 PM, I knock on her door, which Emily opens immediately, like she'd been waiting on the other side.
The thought makes me smile, until I see her.
My brain short-circuits, and my entire nervous system shuts down.
