“Ta-da,” I manage with a shrug.
What am I doing?
“I have to go,” I say. “I’m going to find a job.”
Lorraine beams. “Oh! Maybe someone on my channel can help you find a job!”
“Oh! I mean... sure? Maybe?” I hold up a hand and wave to who I’m envisioning are a handful of people watching this video, then smile at Lorraine. “Have a good day!”
“You too! Keep us posted on the job hunt!”
As she turns around and starts back toward the bench nearest her apartment, I hear her say, “If you’re interested in my sweet new neighbor, just send me a message...”
I smile. I like Lorraine. Even if I might need to establish a stronger boundary.
As I walk over to Miles’s door, I’m struck with an unexpected wave of nerves. Why am I nervous?
Also, why did I bake him cookies?
He’s going to think I’m weird.
Though... last night probably already solidified that.
He’s a very good-looking guy. The first one I’ve even noticed since my divorce was final nine months ago. Maybe subconsciously, I want him to see me without the dumpling bags and the green face. Maybe I want to give a better second impression to make up for the nightmare of the first.
But that’sridiculous. From what I’ve seen, he could be dating between two and four different people at the same time.
What do I care what this man thinks of me or the way I look?
Then, suddenly, the door of his apartment opens, and Miles appears. He’s wearing jeans, a dark green henley, and an expression that seems to ask what I’m doing out here.
I never knocked on the door.
Which means that while I stood out here mentally spiraling for at least two minutes straight... Miles witnessed it all.
Just doing my part to solidify my status as the resident weirdo.
“Hi...?” he says after a beat.
“Hi,” I say.
His eyebrows go up in a question.
“I made you these”—I thrust the container in his general direction—“to, uh... thank you.”
He looks at it, then at me. “For what?”
“For helping me get back into my apartment last night.”
“Oh, you’reClaire,” he says, drawing out my name, exaggerating. “I didn’t recognize you without the green face.” He smirks and reaches for the container.
He’s got jokes, I see.
I pull it back. “Never mind.”
He changes his tune immediately. “No, no! I’m kidding. I promise.” He motions for me to hand it over.
I make a show of pretending to think about it, then finally give it to him.
