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“Would you be opposed to an offer of an evening made up of absolutely nothing exciting at all?” I ask.
“You mean, no meteorological events? No possible origin stories? No medical interventions?” Her hands grip my arm. I manage to keep my attention on our conversation well enough to answer her.
“No. Yes,” I say. “None of those things.”
She smiles up at me and I swear, there is no going back. I’m smitten. Completely. “That sounds like my kind of adventure,” she says.
“Movie? In my apartment? Popcorn? Sunday night?”
“I’m totally on board with all of that.” She nods as she says it, like she’s underlining her acceptance. I want to see that again and again.
I want to say things that make her nod.
I want to make invitations she’ll accept.
I want to tell her that I am on board for all kinds of together-adventures, but I don’t want to look creepy. A guy has to balance things. Being too eager is one thing, but too eager and way older? That whole thing whispers of desperation.
The rain slows and stops as we walk, and by the time we’re at her place, it’s only a haze of water hanging in the chilly air. I close the umbrella and then I don’t know what to do with it. Send it inside with her? Drop it at the nearest classroom building? Take it back with me, carrying it like a cane?
I’m not going to make things weird by walking her all the way up to the door, but I don’t want to say goodnight just yet. Who am I kidding? I don’t want to say goodnight at all. At the foot of her stairs, I hold out my arms and she steps in for another hug. I will never tire of the feeling of her in my arms. Do I lose all my dude cred for thinking something like this? I don’t care. At least not today.
“Thank you for taking such good care of me tonight,” she says. She’s shivering a little, but I’m pretty sure it’s the weather and not residual effects of shock. “Sorry you had to work on your night off.”
“It wasn’t work,” I say, pulling back so she can see my face, hoping she’ll understand I don’t mind at all.
She squints up at me, her porch light turning the air around us into a halo.
“We were in your office. There was pulse-taking and shock treatment. Kinda sounds like work to me.”
I nod. “Okay. So one night I’ll come hang out at your work, and then we’ll be even.”
She puts her hand on my chest. I want her to leave it there.
She makes a humming sound, like agreement. “You’re always welcome. I mean, it’s a public building. Everyone’s welcome. But you, too. Everyone, and also you.”
All right, so maybe there’s a touch of residual shock. But it’s cute, and charming, and not dangerous, so I’m not worried. But just in case, I say, “Please call me if you feel weird.”
She laughs. “You need to be way more explicit in your invitations. I swear, if I call you every time I feel weird, we are going to be talking a lot more than you want us to.”
“Impossible,” I say, laughing along with her. But I’m not kidding. It’s unthinkable there could be too much Sage in my life.
“Challenge accepted, as the kids used to say.”
She gives a wave and runs up the three steps to her door. I watch her key in her code, and she turns around one more time to wave again. Then she leaps back down. I mean it, her feet only touch the middle stair. She takes two more steps and she’s back in my arms, reaching up to place a kiss on my cheek. “Thanks,” she says again, and runs back to the door and inside.
If I stand here longer, will she come back? Will the peck on my cheek turn into something more?
I definitely want all of that to happen. But again, I don’t want to look like a creep. So I walk away, grinning like a fool, bouncing the umbrella against the toe of my shoe with every step. I see that scene from Singing in the Rain in my head, the one where the actor guy walks along the street singing songs and swinging on streetlamps in the fake rain. Good thing I don’t sing. Or twirl. Because tonight? Who knows if I could stop myself?
I text Lana.
‘Did you send the blanket? Because I need it by Sunday. So if you didn’t, send me a purchase link and I’ll have one delivered.’
She texts back a couple of minutes later.‘Do you have any idea what time it is?’
I check.‘Yes. It’s ten minutes past ten. Are you sleeping?’
‘HA. I wish. But really, I wish. Package should arrive before you need it. Good night.’
