ME:I think this counts as momentum.
Her reply comes faster than it should if she were trying to pretend she wasn’t thinking the same thing.
LISA:I think this counts as you not being subtle.
I smile to myself as I reach my car.
ME:Third date energy.
There’s a pause after that one. It’s long enough that I actually unlock the driver’s side door before my phone lights up again.
LISA:Are you busy right now?
I don’t even pretend to hesitate.
ME:No.
Another pause follows, even longer this time. As if she’s deciding something rather than reacting to something.
LISA:I don’t want the night to end.
I stare at the message longer than necessary before typing again.
ME:My place?
The typing bubble appears almost immediately, disappears, comes back again, and then…
LISA:Yes.
And just like that, the night isn’t over.
She looks different when she arrives than she did earlier outside the music venue. She didn’t change anything about her appearance, but there’s something quieter in the way she steps through my doorway this time. As if she already knows she’s not just stopping by for a polite visit and is still deciding what that means for both of us.
“You look like you’re thinking very hard,” I say as I close the door behind her.
“I am thinking very hard,” she admits without even pretending otherwise.
“Risky.”
“It is when you are involved,” she replies. Though the smile that follows softens the words enough that they feel more like teasing than accusation.
I step aside so she can walk further into the apartment, watching the way her eyes move across the room like she’s cataloging details, and it surprises me how much I want her to feel comfortable in this space, like it matters more than I expected that she doesn’t look like a guest.
“You live exactly how I expected you to live,” she says after a moment, turning back toward me.
“That sounds like it could go either way,” I reply carefully.
“It means you have good taste,” she says, glancing toward the shelves and the plants near the windows,“and entirely too many plants.”
“They’re alive,” I point out defensively.
“They’re thriving,” she corrects.
“I’m nurturing.”
“You’re competitive with greenery.”
“That’s also true,” I admit.
