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I think back to the text Devon sent.
Devon- clocking out, on my way.
That was fifteen minutes ago. It’s only a five-minute walk.
The buzz from my phone causes me to leap over the back of my couch. I knock two of the perfectly placed throw pillows to the floor.
Devon-two minutes out.
I exhale.He’s not ghosting me. He’s Devon. He probably got lost, or his foot got stuck in a sewer grate or something.
I place my phone on the small coffee table and retrieve the pillows from the floor. I only adjust them six times this time before taking a step back. They’re perfect, arranged the way I originally saw them in theHomes and Architecturespread a year ago.
The buzz of the bell has me racing to the door. My apartment is small but cozy. I’ve spent a lot of time decorating it and love every nook and cranny.
My hand rests on the doorknob, and I close my eyes. He’s here to help me with the pitch. The pitch. I remind myself to focus. As much as every fiber in my body wants to smother Devon in kisses, I can’t risk having this escalate faster than we’re prepared for. Tonight is about business and getting to know each other.
Then and only then will I allow myself to enjoy a good night kiss.
“Yikes,” I squeak when he knocks on the door. Really smooth, Zara. I swing it open and immediately break into a laugh.
Devon is standing there with a bouquet of flowers between his teeth, a plastic bag hooked on one wrist, and a bottle of what looks to be wine. He’s holding two pizza boxes, with three other bags resting on top of the boxes. His balancing act explains why he’s late. I doubt he can see two feet in front of his face.
“What’s all this?” I grab the bouquet from between his teeth. He follows me into the apartment, and I point to the kitchen counter for him to place the food.
He lays the bags along the counter, and the apartment fills with the scents of garlic, soy, and roasted onions. “Spicy is such a broad category. I realized what if I picked the one dish you don’t eat. I can’t have you starve because of my mix-up—you know me; that’s kind of my brand.”
With his hands finally empty, he steps next to me; a side hug and kiss on my cheek is gone too soon. He strides back toward the food, and I stand there, mesmerized by the moment. He’s here. In my apartment. And I don’t carry a smidgen of nerves.
It’s like he’s been here a hundred times before. Like this is a typical Tuesday night of him grabbing takeout on his way home from work. Something I don’t recognize tugs at my heart as he stops next to the pizza box and looks up. Our gazes lock, he flashes a half-broken smile, and I wonder if he’s experiencing the same wave of emotions that threatens to drown me.
“Everyone loves pizza, so I started there. But I had no clue which toppings. I had them prepare two pies, one with caramelized onions, the other with jalapeños—you know, the whole spicy theme.”
He gives me the most adorable smile and waves at the boxes. “About an hour before clocking out, I got into my head again. I remembered you eating the turkey sandwich in the café. So, I ordered a turkey club and a turkey on rye, both with hot peppers and spicy mayo. When I went to pick them up, I saw the Chinese takeout next door and grabbed a chicken and broccoli and a veggie stir-fry.”
“Devon… this is…”
“I know. I overthink things…”
I step to him, taking his hands into mine. “I was going to say… this is so sweet.” I tip up from my bare feet and don’t hesitate to break the one rule I’ve set for tonight. I kiss him.
It’s a ghost kiss of appreciation on his lips, but the flicker of desire in his eyes lets me know I’ve just shifted the entire trajectory of this evening. I brace for his response.
“Your place looks amazing. But it’s nothing compared to how beautiful you look tonight.”
Well played, mister barista. Gone from Devon is the nervous energy that seems to always sit on his shoulder in the café. I havea choice. I can pivot us back to what we should be focusing on, or I can do this. “Why don’t you open the wine to let it breathe, and I’ll find a vase for your beautiful flowers.” I don’t step away. I don’t make a move to find a vase. Not with him in front of me, looking at me the way he is right now.
Not when it’s been six months since I’ve last had a man in my apartment. “Can I ask you something?”
His gaze lowers from my eyes to my lips, his intent easily read. “Anything you desire.”
I’m shameless. My attraction to him is too overpowering to be stopped by logic. “Do you mind changing into those shorty shorts from last night and let me ogle you while we eat?”
His happy smile extends all the way to his eyes. Bullseye. He takes a step back, his gaze taking me in. After nearly an hour of trying on outfits, I settled on a red and white striped top and a simple black skirt that falls just below my knees.
“I missed you in the café this afternoon.” His sincere words melt my heart. “I’m at least five hundred glances behind my daily count. I’ll wear the shorts if you allow me to stare right back.”
“You sure all you want to do is look?” I’m recklessly playing with fire.
