“Oh,nowwho’s the teenager?” I ask, and she laughs.
“Don’t think I don’t see you trying to change the topic.” She points her index finger at me.
Snorting and shaking my head, I ask, “Can you please just drop it? The whole experience was embarrassing and he’s still Dad’s BFF who I’m probably never going to see again.”
Famous last words.
***
Silver Fox Ken:
I’ve got your clothes from the other night. Want me to drop them off at your place?
I stare at the text message for a solid two minutes, until my phone’s screen goes to sleep, and my brain whirs.
After the deeply embarrassing conversation in Kenneth’s kitchen on Saturday morning, I retreated into the guest room shower. Kenneth was kind enough to lend me a pair of gray sweatpants (which were far too large for me, hanging looselyfrom my hips, even with the drawstring pulled tight), and a soft black T-shirt that looked more like a muumuu on my frame, and he tossed my jeans and mesh shirt into his laundry hamper before I could argue.
At that point, as expensive as the jeans had been, I had been too flustered to consider whether I’d ever see them again.
Almost a full week later, I legitimately forgot all about them…and I might have switched out my usual pajamas for the too-big, borrowed outfit I returned home in.
Does Kenneth want his clothes back, too?
I don’t want to give them back. They’re mine now. Emotional tax to compensate for that whole embarrassing mess.
Plus, I think as I look around my tiny apartment,my apartment is nothing in comparison to his. Hell, I think the whole kitchen-living room-bedroom-bathroom space would barely take up half of his expansive living room and kitchen area. And my place, with its scuffed walls and peeling wallpaper, looks like a dive next to the gleaming, modern condition of his.
Still, it’s rude to leave him on read without a reply. With a resigned sigh, I unlock my screen, immediately bringing up his message. I type an answer and hit send before I can second-guess myself.
Me:
We can always meet somewhere halfway. Maybe do dinner?
Oh, God, will he think I’m hitting on him?
Me:
As friends.
Could I be any lamer?
Me:
Forget I clarified that.
I lock my phone screen as mortification bubbles away in my gut. I will never be normal around him, will I? The churning, swirling feeling in my stomach doesn’t stop me from immediately opening his response when it comes through.
Silver Fox Ken:
Red Brick Diner at 7 tonight?
Heart pounding, I glance at the time and swallow roughly.
Me:
Sounds good. See you there.
Chapter Seven
