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Me:
Oh no.
Marin:
Oh YES. I am now spiritually handcuffed to this storyline. If you don’t live-text-me, I will dissolve into particles.
Marin:
I need: fit check. vibe report. pre-date emotional temp. makeup mood board. tension rating. All of it.
Me:
This feels like a lot of energy for someone not going on the date.
Marin:
Excuse you, I am going on this date. Spiritually. Emotionally. Existentially. Cosmically.
Marin:
Also? Venus is sextiling Mars, so if you don’t at least make out tonight, the planets will literally be offended. Don’t piss off the cosmos, babes.
Somewhere between my brothers live-commenting their way through my love life, James flaking, the glitter shoe crisis, the costume armageddon, the frantic sewing session that almost cost me a finger, my child barfing on my dress, and now Marin assigning herself a spiritual plus-one to my date, I lose the willto keep pretending I’m not one minor disaster away from full psychological collapse.
My elevator dings. Assuming it’s Tim, I head out to greet him, still wrapped in a towel, hair wet, dignity fully MIA.
Only it’s not Tim.
It’s Gage.
Wearing all black.
Black suit, black dress shirt, black shoes.
Looking like the solution to every fantasy I’ve ever denied having.
I freeze.
He keeps coming toward me.
All the way to me.
I forget how to exist.
Then, I speak.
Oh god, Ispeak.
“I’m so sorry. I swear I was going to be ready, but then James bailed and Sarah had a glitter shoe meltdown, and she tore her school costume for tomorrow because she had to show it to Tim tonight, and I had to sew it like I was auditioning forProject Runway, the breakdown edition, and then she threw upon my dress, which wasthedress, like capital-D dress that I was going to seduce you in, and then Marin assigned herself as my spiritual chaperone after telling me Venus is sextiling Mars, which apparently means that if I don’t seduce you tonight, I will piss off the cosmos.” I stop talking long enough to breathe, and because my brain doesn’t get the memo that silence might be the smarter choice here, I just keep on babbling. “And now I’m still in a towel, my hair is wet, I haven’t chosen a lipstick, and I’m honestly starting to wonder if Marin was right, and I’ve pissed off Venus by not shaving my legs or spiritually preparing enough for this date.”
Gage’s eyes flash with amusement right before his hand curls around the back of my neck and he pulls me in for a kiss. Not a short kiss, not a long one, but just enough to wreck any ability I have left to think straight. That could also be thanks to his scent. Who knows at this point? Certainly not me.
When he lets me go, he says, “You’re a whole-ass situation, you know that?”
I was not expecting that. Nowhere close to that.
He grins when all I give him is nothing.