Page 20 of Ready or Not
She squinted.
"Are you sure you’re okay? You look nervous…" she said, leaning one shoulder against the hallway wall. Her arms crossed loosely over her chest, which only managed to draw more attention to everything I was trying—and failing—not to look at.
"Nervous?" I laughed awkwardly, scratching the back of my neck again like an idiot. “Nah, not at all.”
Her brows arched. "You really sure? 'Cause you're acting like you've never had a woman wear a hoodie of yours or something before."
"I mean... I never did so…" I muttered, my eyes darting away again.
She blinked, her teasing smirk faltering for a second. "Wait, really?"
Heat crept up the back of my neck and spread over my ears.
Damn it.
Why couldn't I have left it at an eye roll or cracked a joke? Anything but admittingthat.
"Yeah..." I shrugged, trying not to let the weight of her gaze make me crumble. “Unless you count my sisters who love to steal my shit.”
Her lips parted slightly, and for a moment, the only sound in the room was the soft patter of rain against the living room windows overlooking Lexington Ave & E 86th St. She uncrossed her arms and pushed herself off the wall.
"Oh… I guess there’s a first time for everything," she nodded, then bit her lip.
"Guess you're right."
Walking over to my dark green togo sectional, I watched as she plopped on it like it was her own, folding her legs underneath her. One hand moved to adjust the curls falling into her face, and the other fidgeted with the hem of the oversized shirt.
"Your place is... not what I expected," she glanced around, taking in my bookshelves filled with art books and vinyls. My walls were lined with Black and Latin art I collected since college, and framed photos of me and my family.
"Why? What'd you expect?" I asked, trying to sound relaxed as I leaned against the kitchen archway, my hands in the pockets of my sweatpants, which I just threw on.
She laughed softly, a sound so low and sweet it made something inside me unravel even further. "I don't know—I guess too manly? Bachelor-pad like? Maybe some random dude stuff like a poster of a Lamborghini or whatever. But this though..." she reached for the open furniture book on the monti coffee table, her fingers skimming over the worn cover. “This is... your place is well thought out. It’s beautiful.”
“And the art,” she continued as she looked back at the walls, her gaze lingering on a framed print of a colorful market scene from Santo Domingo, which I took on vacation. “It feels intentional, like every piece has a story.”
I didn’t know what to say to that, so I just nodded, my brain still caught somewhere between the way she looked in my clothes and the way her lips formed every word.
“That’s a good thing, right?”
She smiled again. “Oh yeah. Definitely a good thing.”
For a brief moment, we fell into silence again, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. The rain outside softened to a gentle rhythm, almost as if it slowed down just for us.
Shifting her weight on the couch, she tucked her legs under herself in a way that made her look even smaller in my clothes. Her fingers continued playing idly with the edges of the furniture book before flipping it open to a page filled with a bunch of mid-century chair designs. Her brow furrowed a bit as she studied the glossy photographs like she was trying to piece together my entire personality from the objects.
"You really surprise me," she said suddenly, not looking up. Though her voice was casual, something in the way she said it made my chest tighten.
I pushed off the archway and walked closer, sitting close to her but not so close to lose my shit and do something like touch her. "How?"
Her lips quirked into a half-smile, still staring at the page like it held all the answers.
"Now that I’m in your home… I get a completely different vibe about you.”
“Good or bad?”
“Good," She finally looked up, her eyes catching mine with more intensity than I was ready for. "I originally thought you were just confident, easygoing, maybe a little cocky." She paused, chewing on her bottom lip as if debating what to say next. "But now… I see more parts of you.”
“And what are those parts?” I dug my fingers into the couch, keeping me grounded as my pulse kicked up a notch. Her gaze didn’t waver, and that half-smile grew into something fuller, something that made it hard to breathe.
