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After a couple more minutes of knock and wait, knock and wait, the door was flung open so abruptly that it startled me. Dylan was barefoot and dressed in gray sweatpants and a wrinkled white T-shirt. He’d obviously been sound asleep. I knew that because there was a crease down his left cheek, from where his face must have been mashed into a pillow.
“I’m so sorry,” he blurted, as he stepped aside to let me in. “I was taking a nap, and I don’t know what happened. They usually last two or three hours, not eight and a half.”
“I’m glad you got some rest,” I said, as I stepped past him into a modern-looking loft.
“Were you waiting long?”
“No. Just a minute or two. I skipped the downstairs buzzer and let myself into your building, I hope that’s okay.”
“It’s fine.” He let the door swing shut, and then he stood there looking lost. “I was going to order groceries and have a nice meal ready for you…”
“No biggie. We’ll just order a pizza instead.” I gathered him into an embrace, and then I held him for a long moment and rubbed his back. Between just waking up and the fact that this had to be doing a number on his anxiety, he was clearly struggling. When I let go of him, I said, “I’m going to make myself comfortable on your couch. Take all the time you need to get ready. I’m great at keeping myself entertained.”
He took a deep breath, then exhaled slowly. It sounded a bit shaky. His dark eyes searched mine, as if he was seeking reassurance. I smiled at him before heading over to the sofa and settling in with my backpack on my lap.
The loft was one big, open room with high ceilings. There was a doorway over to my right, which I assumed led to the bathroom. Dylan went in there and shut the door, and I looked around curiously.
The space was beautiful, but it wasn’t what I’d call homey. It looked like the furnishings and artwork had all been selected by a designer, who’d been given the instructions, “Make it look like a masculine, high-end hotel suite—modern with a dash of rugged.”
He had an incredible city view that included Coit Tower, and at the moment the sky outside the wall of windows was a deep indigo. The loft’s dark blue walls were almost the same shade, while the furniture was mostly brown leather and wood. A few abstract paintings and a striped area rug brought in some more blues and burnt orange tones, while four wood and metal sculptures looked like they belonged in a museum. And—that was it.
Aside from two of the smaller sculptures, which sat on a sideboard over to my left, there was nothing on any of the surfaces, including the chunky, wooden coffee table in front of me. I wondered idly if the table was actually vintage, or just distressed to make it look like it was.
I put down my backpack and twisted around to look into the kitchen, which was in the back corner, beneath an elevated platform that held an unmade bed. I’d expected the fancy, stainless steel appliances and dark wood cabinets, but I hadn’t expected the counter to be completely empty. Didn’t he own a toaster?
Dylan returned after a few minutes dressed in jeans and a dark blue Henley, along with brown Timberland-style boots. Did he know he matched his apartment?
“Sorry again about keeping you waiting,” he said. “Can I offer you a glass of wine?”
He looked kind of lost as he stood at the far end of the couch, and it seemed like he didn’t know what to do with his hands. He crossed his arms, then tried sticking his hands in his pockets before finally letting his arms hang by his sides.
I thought alcohol tasted gross, but it seemed like wine could help him relax, and he might not want to drink alone. I got up and flashed him a big smile as I said, “Sure. I’ll come with you.” Then I followed him to the kitchen and discovered he owned some kind of mini fridge with a glass door, and apparently its only job was to hold wine bottles. Man, he was a lot fancier than I was.
He turned to me and asked, “Which do you prefer, red or white?”
Neither? I went with the first answer that came to mind. “Pink?”
“Oh, you’re into rosé? That’s my sister’s favorite. I always keep a couple of bottles on hand for when she visits.”
He opened a bottle of pretty, pink wine, then filled two glasses about halfway. When he handed me one of the glasses, I clinked it against his and said, “To infinity, and beyond.”
That made him grin. “I wasn’t expecting that.” Sure, but it accomplished what I’d wanted it to—it made him smile.
While he took a drink, I tilted the glass and sloshed the wine toward my lips, then tipped it upright again without ever actually taking a sip. I didn’t want to insult him by rejecting his ruined grape juice, but I had no intention of drinking it, either. With any luck, he’d get nice and tipsy and fail to notice he was the only one drinking.
I leaned against the edge of the counter and asked, “Did you have to go out on any more calls last night?”
He nodded. “Two of them. I really don’t know what it was about New Year’s Day that made it that hectic, but I’m so glad it’s over.”
Dylan drained his glass, then refilled it and tried to offer me more. “I’m still good, thanks,” I said.
“Are you hungry? You mentioned ordering pizza. There are also several good restaurants in the neighborhood that deliver.”
He still seemed a little tense, so I said, “I’m in no hurry. We could just go back to the couch and chat for a while, if you want to.”
Dylan brought the wine bottle with us, and as we both took a seat I asked, “Would you think it was weird if I took my shoes off?”
“Please do. I want you to be comfortable.”
