"One month," I decide. "That's recent enough that it makes sense I haven't told them yet, but long enough that it's clearly serious. Or serious-ish. You know."
I risk a glance at him.
He's leaning against the counter, arms crossed over his chest, and I try very hard not to stare at the way his biceps strain against his shirt sleeves.
I fail.
"How'd we meet?" he asks.
"We're neighbors," I say, forcing my eyes back to the coffee maker. "That part's true. We could just say we ran into each other one day and started talking."
"About what?"
"I don't know. Normal stuff. The weather. The neighborhood. My terrible parallel parking."
His mouth twitches. Just barely.
Did he almost smile?
"You're bad at parallel parking?"
"The worst," I admit. "I once spent twenty minutes trying to park in front of the grocery store and finally gave up and parked in the lot behind the building."
"I've seen you park."
I freeze, coffee scoop halfway to the filter. "You have?"
"You're not that bad."
"You've watched me park?"
He doesn't answer, but something in his expression shifts. Closes off.
"I notice things," he says finally.
The coffee maker starts to gurgle and hiss, filling the silence. I don't know what to do with that. With the idea that he's been noticing me. Watching me.
It shouldn't make me feel hot all over. It definitely shouldn't make the situation in my underwear worse.
I clear my throat. "Right. Okay. So, we met as neighbors, started talking, and then... what? You asked me out?"
"Did I?"
"I mean, one of us had to. And it seems more… I don't know, believable if you did it? You're the guy."
"That matter?"
"No. Yes. Maybe?" I grab two mugs from the cabinet and pour coffee into both, grateful for the distraction. "I don't know. My parents are old-fashioned. If I say I asked you out, my dad will give me a lecture about being too forward and scaring men off."
"You don't scare me."
I hand him a mug and our fingers brush. It's barely a touch. Barely anything at all, but I feel it everywhere.
"Sugar? Milk?" My voice comes out higher than normal.
"Black's fine."
Of course it is. Of course he drinks his coffee black like some kind of rugged mountain man. I dump three sugars and a generous pour of cream into mine and take a sip, even though it's still hot enough to burn.
