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“You okay there?” he asked, before she could end the call.

“Just tired,” she said.

“Would you like to have dinner later?” he asked her. “I’ll pick you up.”

“Where?” she said, startled that he asked that. “Didn’t you want this low key?”

“At my beach house,” he said. “It’s still low key.”

His place. His place was reserved for family and family alone. Maybe ex-girlfriends and a few friends. He had asked someone for dinner in the privacy of his house. Mikaela was merely a contract, but he had said this one impulse. He wondered what overcame him. What was going on with him? He couldn’t take it back, though. He wondered what he was going to cook for her already…

“Sure,” she replied, after a pregnant pause.

He almost sighed in relief that she said yes. He didn’t want to be turned down. That had happened only twice in his life and he never saw those women again, even if they begged for him to date them. No one refuses me, he had thought. He ended the call first, still wondering why he said that. He could have said that they could have dinner at her place, or at the penthouse, but no, he just had to say that.

On the other end, Mikaela felt hope flutter again. He was asking her out on a date. A real date, at his own place. She tried to contain her excitement, and managed to sound nonchalant until the call ended. She was more excited about the dinner date than news of a scholarship. It wasn’t feasible anyway, moving to Santa Monica.

This went beyond the contract. That left room for emotional attachment, a lot of room for it. Suddenly, she was half-anxious about what could happen. They had sex, they both fell asleep, and he kissed her goodbye… Would it happen again? Her mind raced. What would she wear? It was just going to be a house, but she wanted to look made up, although not too made up. She looked at the clock and saw she had five more hours of work to go. She couldn’t wait till she punched out.

“I see you’re busy,” Mary Ann remarked, raising an eyebrow.

“Oh, I just ate,” Mikaela stammered.

“Half a sandwich?”

“Not too hungry,” Mikaela smiled, feeling her mood elevate. “Your turn to eat.”

Mary Ann shook her head and smiled. That guy with the fancy car must’ve been persistent. She hadn’t seen Mikaela this giddy in months. Even if she tried to hide it. Mikaela wasn’t exactly easy to read, but it was her smile that made things easier to notice. That coy smile when she put down her phone said it all.

Mikaela worked steadily and surprised her coworkers when she left fifteen minutes after her shift ended. She didn’t linger to help some more, or cover for someone else who wanted to take a break.

“Where’s she off to?” someone asked Mary Ann.

“A date, I guess,” Mary Ann said with a smile.

***

Mikaela chose denim shorts and a tank top. It looked very casual, but she thought it would suit the date. It wasn’t a formal date and for that she was glad. She did some light makeup, best that she could do, because Lynne wasn’t here. Besides, who needed makeup when you were in someone’s house and it was beside the beach?

She wondered what it was like. She expected it to be big, though, big and lonely. It seemed he didn’t like anyone around him too much. She had quickly canceled the dance practice with the kids, hoping her friend would cover for her. She felt bad she had canceled when she hadn’t taught in weeks, but her personal life was at stake here, too.

Her doorbell rang and he walked in. “Hi,” he said casually.

“Hi,” she said, noticing she felt shy, like this was their first date. It wasn’t but it felt like it had been a long time. She wanted to kick herself for being childish. This was still his way of wanting to sleep with her, except he was being nicer this time.

“Ready to go?” he asked her. “Don’t forget to bring a sweater just in case.”

She nodded. “Have one in my bag.”

“Excellent.”

He had brought along a top-down Mercedes, and her eyes widened, seeing how sleek it was. Then she realized people around them were staring at the car. Again. He was an easy target for hooligans if she still stayed in her old neighborhood. As soon as he started the car, the roof retracted and she slid into the passenger seat, feeling the luxurious handmade leather upholstery underneath her palms.

Some billboard song was playing on the touchscreen radio system, a tune that made her want to dance.

“You dance?” he asked her as he drove away from the condominium.

She nodded. “I teach hip-hop dance at a kid’s clinic.”

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