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“A little here and there.”
“In the same cities as him?”
“So far, yes.”
“It’s that serious, huh?”
“It could be.”
I set my bag on the sofa and retrieve a wool three-quarter-length coat from the hall closet, placing it on top of my luggage. Chandra takes a seat in the red chair and begins to thumb through a fashion magazine. As I’m about to join her, there’s a gentle knock at the door.
“I bet that’s Foster,” I say to Chandra.
“Nothing like stating the obvious,” she quips back.
“Behave.”
When I open the entrance, dressed handsomely in a well-tailored charcoal suit accentuated by a cobalt tie to match his eyes is Foster.
“Evelyn,” he gasps. “You look…” His eyes roam over my body. “Nice.”
“Thanks. You’re looking dapper yourself.” I rest a palm on my hip. “I clean up pretty good, don’t I?”
“That is a complete and total understatement. You look amazing.”
“It must be the shoes.” I point the sneaker-clad foot in his direction. “They make the outfit.”
He lowers his gaze, absent of his signature glasses, to the ground and laughs. “Those are something special. Unique.”
“I thought so. I packed a fancy pair for later.” Taking a step backward, I grab my coat, slip my arms into the sleeves, and then shrug the travel bag over my shoulder. “Are you ready to go?”
“I’m just waiting on you.”
“Then, you are waiting on no one.” I blow a kiss in Chandra’s direction where she’s still sitting in the chair. “I’ll see you later.”
“You two behave,” she warns, masked in sarcasm.
“Yes, mom.”
“Have a good weekend, Chandra,” Foster says, waving to my roommate.
“You, too, Foster.”
Exiting my apartment, I join Foster in the hallway, and we descend the steps together and head out the building. He takes the bag from my arm, leads me halfway down the block, and stops in front of a black Lexus. He pops the trunk.
“Did you get a new car?” I ask, wondering what happened to his well-loved Honda.
“Nope.” He stows away my bag, closes the compartment, and then opens the passenger door for me to get in. “This is my grandmother’s. I borrowed it for the drive since it’s a bit of a hike.”
“It’s all fancy.”
I slide into the beige leather interior, and Foster closes the door. He then circles around the rear, takes off his jacket, lays it on the backseat, and then joins me inside the car.
As he turns over the ignition, I ask, “Don’t you need to wear your glasses to drive?”
“No. They’re more for reading.” He offers me a sidelong glance. “You look so different with your hair like that,” he remarks, pulling away from the curb and into the street.
“Is that a good or a bad thing?”
