51
Carla
Malachite walks me from the car to the entrance of my building, hands in his pockets.
We stop under the light at the door, and I turn to him.
“Thanks so much. I really appreciate it.”
“I can walk you up.” He points at the building.
“That’s really not necessary. I told you that you didn’t even have to walk me this far. I’m good.”
“I had a wonderful time,” he tells me.
I narrow my eyes at him. “You don’t have to?—”
“I did. I like you, Carla.” He puts his hand on my hip and starts to lean in.
I take a step back, put a hand on his chest and stop him before he gets there.
“Malachite.” I give him the kindest smile I can summon. “You are a really nice guy, but I’m not looking for a relationship right now. I’m so sorry.”
He straightens, and to his credit, he doesn’t look crushed. He doesn’t even look surprised.
“It’s fine.” He shrugs. “You did warn me. Friends who happen to attend a wedding together; that was the deal.” He grins. “I did promise to try my luck.”
“That you did.” I laugh. “Thank you for tonight. For all of it. Especially the embarrassing parts.”
“We will never speak of it again.”
“Deal.”
He waits until I’m through the door before he heads back to the car, and I give him a little wave through the glass. Then I take the elevator up, let myself into my apartment, and slip off my heels right there in the entryway.
Oh, sweet relief.
I actually groan out loud. I wiggle my toes against the cool floor and go straight through to the bathroom, unhooking my earrings as I go.
I brush my teeth, and I’m just pumping cleanser into my palm, about to scrub off three layers of professionally applied makeup, when the doorbell rings.
I frown at myself in the mirror.
It’s late.
I rinse the cleanser off my hands, dry them on the towel, and walk to the door.
Maybe I left my cellphone in Malachite’s car or something.
“Who is it?” I ask.
“It’s me.”
I recognize his voice instantly. Every hair on my arms stands up.
“Magma?” I frown.
“Yes, it’s me. Can you open the door so we can talk?”
