“And how’s that going for you?”
I gesture to my barbecue-stained shirt and my pizza slice. “Well, I’m having lunch with the neighbor whose dog peed on my shoes, so … progress?”
She bursts out laughing, nearly choking on her water. “I’d say that’s definite growth! Next thing you know, you’ll be getting a spray tan and saying ‘literally’ every third word.”
“Never gonna happen.” I shake my head firmly.
“Famous last words,” she teases. “This city has a way of getting under your skin when you least expect it.”
We fall into an easy rhythm after that, finishing our pizza and sharing more stories. I tell her about what it was like growing up on a farm in Texas. She tells me about her childhood in New York.
When we finish eating, the walk back to our building is leisurely, with Cocoa investigating every fire hydrant and tree along the way. The conversation continues to flow easily, nothing like the awkward exchanges of our previous encounters.
As we approach our building, Nicole hesitates, then says, “So, I’m hosting this thing at the building’s lounge on Thursday. Kind of a networking mixer for entrepreneurs and creative types.”
“Oh yeah?” I try to sound interested, though the idea of a room full of strangers making small talk sounds about as appealing as extra suicide drills.
“My sister convinced me to do it. Sort of a practice run before this big industry brunch I got invited to.” She looks up at me, a hint of vulnerability in her expression. “I know it’s probably the last thing you’d want to do, but … if you’re free, you should come by. There’ll be food and drinks, and at least one familiar face.”
I hesitate, my natural instinct to decline warring with the strange pull I feel toward this woman who is so different from me yet somehow easy to talk to.
“I have practice that morning,” I say slowly. “But if it doesn’t run late…”
Her face brightens. “Really? I mean, no pressure at all. I just thought … you know, since you’re new in town, maybe it would be good to meet some people who aren’t basketball players.”
“Yeah,” I find myself saying. “I could probably do that.”
She grins. “Great! It starts at eleven, but come whenever. And bring your appetite. I ordered the best Korean BBQ caterer…” Her eyes drop to my shirt.
I chuckle. “Then maybe I will keep this shirt. It’ll be a great advertisement for the food.”
A giggle slips through her lips. “Yeah, I guess so.”
We reach the elevator, and she presses the button for our floor. Her balayage hair has signs of BBQ spatter and her mascara is a little smeared.
But honestly?
She kind of takes my breath away. And I really don’t know what to do with that. I don’t even know that I’ve had such an occurrence.
I’ve always just focused on basketball. Girls were scary, and a distraction I didn’t think I had time for.
“Thanks for having lunch with me,” she says as the doors slide open on our floor.
“Sure thing. It was nice.”
“It was,” she agrees, stepping out. “Maybe next time we can even avoid property damage or bodily harm.”
I laugh, feeling lighter than I have in weeks. “Let’s not set the bar too high.”
She waves as she unlocks her door, Cocoa prancing at her heels. “See you Thursday? Maybe?”
“Maybe,” I confirm, though we both know I’ll be there.
Cocoa gives a low, happy bark as Nicole opens the door for the two of them.
I watch them disappear inside, then stand there for a minute, letting the moment breathe around me. And for once, Idon’tfeel out of place.
I feel … here.
