Page 6 of The Girlfriend's Guide to Dating a Biker
My brain: malfunctioning noises
What I texted Megan immediately after I got out of the lift:
Me
HELP, HE CALLED ME SWEETHEART WHILE LOOKING LIKE THAT!
Megan
Like what?
Me
Like THAT!
Megan
That’s a super helpful description.
Me
Muscles dimples eyes xcawqzmg
Megan
I see.
Please note: I do not think she did, in fact, see.
Back to the transcript of the seven minutes in the lift:
Him: “You’re the tech genius from 4A, right?”
My mouth: “I wouldn’t say genius . . .”
My brain: HE KNOWS WHERE I LIVE AND WHAT I DO???
What I wanted to say: “I also know three different ways to hack a traffic light system but that’s probably not first date conversation material wait who said anything about dates oh god stop thinking.”
Him: leans against wall in a way that is lethal to a woman “Heard you talking code on your balcony last week. Sounded pretty genius to me.”
My mouth: “Oh, that was just—wait, you can hear me on my balcony?”
My brain: DELETE ALL EVIDENCE OF SINGING TAYLOR SWIFT IMMEDIATELY
Him: actual smile with actual dimples “Only when you’re swearing at your laptop.”
My mouth: “That laptop deserved it.”
My brain: IS THIS FLIRTING? ARE WE FLIRTING? WHAT IS HAPPENING?
Mental note: Create spreadsheet analysing smile-to-dimple ratio and its correlation to my ability to form coherent sentences.
And then? THEN? He laughed. It wasn’t just a chuckle. It was a full-on laugh that did things to my insides that I refuse to analyse without a psychology degree and several glasses of wine. (Note to self: Do NOT tell Megan about this or she’ll make Brad psychoanalyse my “response to masculine auditory stimuli” or whatever his thesis is about this week.)
But wait, it got better/worse.
The lift started working again after exactly seven minutes (yes, I counted; what else was I supposed to do while trying not to stare at his arms? And yes, Karen from Accounting, I WILL make a spreadsheet about this later). As the doors opened, he put his hand on the small of my back to let me exit first.
