Page 16 of Locked Down In Watch Hill
Seth laughed. “I suppose you’re going to make her another round of pizza bread.”
“Or maybe something else.” I shrugged, not wanting to sound too interested in her or too focused on her. We had a long night ahead of us anyway, and we needed to stay on task. By my calculation, we were only about halfway through the usual dinner rush. “I don’t think she’s tried the hoagies.”
He pushed off the shelf and headed toward the main dining room. “I’m sure that’s exactly what she’s going to want from you.”
“You know it,” I called back. Once I was alone again, I sent her a text.
Me: Thanks for that post. It’s done a great job.
Ashley: Don’t mention it.
Me: I owe you a meal. What do you want?
Ashley: I have some ideas...
SEVEN
ASHLEY
This wasn’t a date; it was a delivery.
How many times do I have to keep reminding myself of that fact?
Still, I was excited about it in the same way I’d previously been for dates, when I took for granted the usual rhythms of getting out and meeting people in the endless spiral that made up being single in the twenty-first century. Especially since this delivery also came on my birthday, a day that looked nothing like what I excepted. In fact, I’d spent some of the day moping, and feeling sorry for myself that I had to spend it alone.
But I wasn’t about to betotallyalone.
And even though I couldn’t invite Kyle in, couldn’t ask him to stay for a drink, or suggest he hang out while we watched yet another round of streaming television, I could at least look decent when he showed up at my apartment.
That meant spending an inordinate amount of time on what I would wear to retrieve the takeout that Kyle was about to deliver. I finally settled on a part of black jogger Ponte pants, gray short-sleeved bodysuit, and lightweight red bomber jacket that could have doubled as a sweatshirt. Casual but fashionable in a I’m-not-trying-at-all kind of way. I styled my hair for the first time in weeks, then concentrated my efforts on my eye makeup, making sure the hazel in them popped against my sallow, vitamin D-deprived skin. By the time I slipped on my favorite pair of black velvet slippers, I had to admit I felt like me again.
Somewhat.
Kyle said he’d show up at seven, and he was right on time, ringing the buzzer to my apartment as the clock switched from 6:59 to 7:00. I slipped my mask on my face and took three deep breaths before I opened it.
“Hey there.” I stepped back from the doorway, making sure to maintain six feet of distance between myself and him. “Thanks for stopping by.”
