My throat was dry as I swallowed. How in the hell would that ever work? It’s not like we’d both find it “not fun anymore” at the same exact time, shake hands, and happily walk away. This was a recipe for an Olivia disaster.
But even as I knew that, the thought of more with Colin—going out to dinner and holding his hand and getting flirty sexts from him—was so damned intriguing that I was tempted. “That sounds preposterously simple, Colin.”
He tilted his head. “Scared, Livvie?”
“Of what?”
He just raised an eyebrow.
“Now who has the big head?”
I was torn between giggling hysterically and crying a little as I watched him put in his AirPods, fiddle with his running watch, and then leave the apartment like it was normal and he’d be returning later.
Had we really just decided to do the thing?
What the hell?
Five minutes later, as I was still freaking out, Colin texted me.
Colin: Three things: 1. Don’t freak out. 2. Send me a pic. 3. Can I take you to dinner tonight?
I smiled in spite of myself and texted: 1. I’m not 2. Perhaps later 3. Depends. Where are you going to take me?
His response was immediate. Name the place, Marshall.
I’d barely gone out at all since moving back, so I had no idea what a good dinner-date restaurant would be. I remembered Dana telling me that she and Will got a $150 gift card to Fleming’s and it didn’t even cover their dinner, so I shot for the moon.
Me: Fleming’s.
I expected him to balk or redirect me to the bar and grill down the block from our building, but he just responded with:
Oh, I see—it’s like that. I’ll pick you up at 6.
I laughed at his response and set my phone down on the counter. That seemed a little early for someone like Colin; he seemed like a dinner-at-eight kind of guy.
Just as I thought that, my phone buzzed again.
Colin: You still eat early, right?
I set my phone down again and gnawed on the inside of my lip. He remembered from when I lived with him that I ate early? Perhaps I’d underestimated him.
17
Olivia
I wasn’t proud of it, but I pounded three glasses of wine while I waited for Colin to arrive.
I just needed to calm my nerves, which was weird in and of itself.
Because I was completely relaxed around Colin; I was used to being with him. But I just didn’t know if Date Colin was going to be different from Regular Colin. I’d known him for a large portion of my life, but this was uncharted territory.
The wine worked, though, and I was relaxed for the most part when I heard his knock and opened the door.
“Hi,” I breathed, incapable of more than a single syllable because Colin looked so good. Like, not just his usual handsomeness, but he looked cool. He had on slim black pants and a bomber jacket, the opposite of his usual work attire.
And he was wearing his glasses.
I sort of wanted to call off the date and just stay home. In my bedroom.
“Wow,” Colin said, looking me up and down and making my skin feel hot. “You look really nice, Livvie.”
I’d borrowed an off-the-shoulder red cashmere sweater from Dana, along with a black skirt and a pair of suede ankle boots that were to die for. Her clothes made me feel put-together and beautiful and I never wanted to give them back.
“So do you.” I looked at his belt buckle and said, “Your abs don’t look too terrible in that shirt.”
“But still disgusting, right?”
I grabbed my purse and coat from the counter. “I think I’ve made my stance clear.”
“You gave me a stomach hickey.”
“I said what I said.”
We were both smiling as we exited the apartment. I asked him, “Does Jack know we’re going out tonight?”
“No, but he was gone when I got home. I’ll tell him.” He pressed the button when we got to the elevator bank and then grabbed my hand. He laced his warm fingers through mine, spreading that warmth throughout my entire body.
I giggled.
“Something funny?” He looked down at me, his lips in a tiny smile, and I giggled again.
“Don’t you find this bizarre? Like, Jack’s friend who told me when I was in seventh grade that my crimped hair looked like burnt French fries is holding my hand.”
He gave a deep chuckle and dropped my hand. “Wait, that’s you? I’m taking out the girl who ran over her own foot with a car?”
The doors opened and we got in the elevator. “Technically it wasn’t my fault. The Dodge Colt always slipped out of gear.”