Page 32 of Love at First Sighting

I go silent. Staying with Carter isn’t a bad idea, but there’s nothing in it for him. I mean, probably sex, but that only goes so far. I could pay part of his rent or utilities or something. But he offers it like it’s the simplest solution in the world.

“If…if you want to. Of course, you don’t have to. I know it’s small and not that nice. Definitely not what you’re used to,” he rambles.

“No,” I sigh. “I just can’t ask that of you.”

“You didn’t ask. You can stay as long as you need.”

I snivel away a last batch of tears. “Okay.”

“I’m on my way home. Should be there in a half hour. That good with you?”

“Yeah, I’ll see you then.”

I begin my drive over the hill to Carter’s apartment, listening to a self-help podcast en route.

I ignore the texts flowing in from my mom, asking if my new blowup will hinder her plans for putting an addition on the house.

Finally, I pull into a parking spot and unload my main bags.

Carter opens the door on the first knock.

His tie’s undone and his top buttons open.

This is the Carter I imagine he is within minutes of getting home from work.

Discarding his uniform bit by bit, scrounging for dinner, calling me to check in at the end of the day.

That’s been our routine. Now I might meld into the picture.

Cooking together. Deciding our evening entertainment. Brushing our teeth side by side. It’s the small things that felt like logistics before, but when I imagine doing them with Carter, it feels like peace.

“Hey,” he says with a warmth that settles me for the first time in hours. “Come here.”

Carter takes a handful of my jacket and pulls me into his arms. He’s got one hand in my hair, the other at the small of my back. It’s tight, warm, and feels like home.

“Are you okay?” he asks.

I nod. “I’ll be fine.”

Carter kisses the crown of my hair and pulls away. There’s so much sympathy hanging heavy in his eyes. “Come on in. We’ll get you settled.”

He reaches for the wheeled suitcase behind me, only to discover a smaller one behind it.

“That one’s for beauty products,” I explain.

“They get their own suitcase?” He laughs as we roll them through the living room and disappear into his room. “Make yourself at home. As they say, mi casa es su casa .”

Under any normal circumstances, that’d be grounds for a breakup, but the cheeky grin on Carter’s face is too pure to disparage. We spend the next hour or so figuring out where I’ll fit into his small, square bedroom. He pulled out a notepad and sketched a few layouts at one point.

Carter makes space in his closet for some of my clothes, room in his drawers for my things. I imagine pulling a T-shirt out of the drawer and it smelling as much like his clothing as it does mine.

When we’re done, Carter flops back on his bed and I join him. He’s still in his half-discarded suit, but the buttons on his shirt are almost entirely undone and his hair’s fallen out of its gelled order.

“You have a lot of things.”

“People give me a lot of free shit.” I laugh, tracing my fingertips down his chest.

“And now it’s my problem.”

“It is.”

Carter brings his hand to the side of my face, brushing a strand of hair behind my ear with a smile. “I think I can live with that.”

I grab his shirt and pull myself onto him.

“I’ll even let you use some of my products,” I tease, pressing my forehead to his.

“Oh my god,” he gasps. “I am going to be so exfoliated. So cucumber-y.”

He mutes my laughing with a kiss but slowly pulls away. He caresses my cheek with his thumb, and the easiest, most comfortable smile spreads across his face.

“I’m just happy to have you here.” I’m fighting to keep back the tears springing to the corners of my eyes. After Bex, Lea, the fake images, my mom …knowing my presence brings him joy is the exact medicine I need. “The shower gels are small potatoes.”

“Thank you.”

He nods and leans in for another peck on the nose. So far, we’ve had rendezvous and stolen kisses, but now we have time to slow down. Now we might have time to put a name to this or figure out what these feelings even mean.

“Is Leonard going to mind?”

Carter shakes his head. “No. You might actually have to get working on that gamer babes sponsorship thing, though.”

I collapse into his chest with a laugh. “G-Babez.”

“Close enough,” he says, stroking my cheek with his thumb. “Let me take you on a date.”

“What?”

“A date. You and me. It’s what you usually do when you like someone a lot. Sometimes it comes before having sex with them on your desk at work, but not always. One night where it’s just us, being whoever we want to be. All eyes on us or none at all. Whatever makes you happiest.”

My ribs contract and my heart leaps. A date where I do what I want, dress how I want, act how I want, with someone who wants that, too. I haven’t been on a date that wasn’t a calculated event in years. I can’t think of anything better.

I smile. “I have one condition.”

“Tell me.”

“I don’t want you to wear a suit.” I think over what he said before. “I mean, unless you want to.”

“Oh, trust me, I don’t.” Carter’s mouth drops open and he sucks in a breath. “But what do you want me to wear?”

“I want you to wear whatever makes you happiest.”

We spend the next half hour getting ready, and most of that is the two of us staring at both of our wardrobes trying to decide what we’re going to wear. Carter’s closet contains mostly jeans and T-shirts sporting everything from band names to Dodgers logos.

He ponders his outfit for longer than I do.

I’m finishing pulling my hair into a careless bun and putting on the faintest bits of makeup when Carter steps out of the bathroom and runs his fingers through his hair, which is a little curly when he isn’t gelling it back.

He looks oddly nervous, like this is the first time we’re ever seeing each other.

He’s chosen a pair of casual brown pants, a white T-shirt, and a denim jacket.

The one thing that remains the same are his usual black Converse.

He’s boyish and handsome, cut with the sharp angles and shadows of his face.

All I know is it makes me smile.

I climb off the bed and slide my arms around his shoulders. The blue in the denim makes his eyes pop.

“I pass your test?” he asks.

I nod. “You pass.”