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“So… would you like to have dinner with me?”
“I’d love to.”
That feels more than promising, and I tell her to turn left before we drive past my street.
“You can park anywhere down here.”
She pulls into a space, switching off the engine, and we both get out of the car. I step around to her side and although I don’t take her hand, we walk together to my apartment building. I open the door, holding it for her, and she passes through ahead of me, waiting until I guide her towards the elevator.
Once inside, I avoid looking at her, knowing if I do, I’ll have to kiss her. She’s getting harder and harder to resist, and my self-control is waning.
Fortunately, it doesn’t take long to get to the top floor, and the doors open onto the narrow corridor that leads to my apartment. I let her step out before me.
“There’s just me up here,” I say, as we make our way to my front door.
“Hmm… it’s the same at my place. I have the whole top floor, too.”
I nod my head, putting the key in the lock.
She steps inside and I flick on the lights before following her, feeling grateful that I’ve hardly been here this week, and haven’t had the chance to make a mess.
“This is amazing.” She spins around in the enormous space that forms my living area. Her enthusiasm is adorable, and I can’t help smiling.
“I know. It used to be a dance studio, but I got lucky. The block is owned by a collective that will only rent to people who work in the creative arts.”
“And that includes you?”
“Evidently. Acting counts, and so does writing. They subsidise the rent as well, which is a godsend. I’d never be able to afford somewhere like this otherwise.”
I shrug off my jacket, and offer to take hers. She turns around, and I remove it, being careful not to touch her any morethan is strictly necessary… which is a challenge in itself, and then I take our coats back to the front door, hooking them up.
“What would you like to eat?” I ask, and she tilts her head at me.
“Anything, as long as it’s not curry, Thai, or pizza.”
“So… Chinese?”
“Sounds perfect.”
I pull out my phone and find the website for my usual Chinese takeout before handing it to Ella. “Take your pick. I’m just gonna go change my top, before this t-shirt cuts off my circulation.”
She chuckles, looking down at my phone and I run up the stairs, peeling off the t-shirt as I go, and throwing it into the laundry hamper before pulling out a white shirt, rolling up the sleeves and buttoning it up.
As I make my way back down the stairs again, I notice my phone on the arm of the sofa and Ella standing over by the bookcase.
“Did you choose?” I ask.
She turns, nodding her head, and I pick up the phone, making my own selection. “Let me pay,” she says, and I look up, frowning at her.
“I wouldn’t dream of it. I invited you.”
She opens her mouth, but closes it again, and I pay for the takeout, throwing my phone down on the couch before I look up at her again.
“You read a lot of detective stories,” she says. “Is that what your novel is?”
“Yes. It’s a country house murder mystery.”
“I’d love to read it one day.”
