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"It's…so fast."
"That's called power walking. If you can't do that now, imagine when you're carrying another twenty, thirty pounds," Evan reaches around the panel and lowers the speed. "I suppose since you're almost done, we can slow it down."
"Gee, thanks." I try to blow a strand of hair out of my face, but it is matted to my forehead.
"Don't make me change my mind," he argues. I shoot him a cheesy, exaggerated smile.
"I mean, thank you so very much," I reply. He turns his head and covers his toothy grin, and I join him, chortling at myself. It is a rare moment when time slows for me, and I savor the happy seconds before they fade like I knew they would. I am in Evan's master bedroom, walking on his treadmill as he keeps me company.
The room looks similar to the office where I first met him. Black, modern, minimal…but it is far from cold. My workout isn't the only thing keeping my blood pumping. I focus my attention on the raven-haired man in front of me, who is recovering from his laughter. I must be staring too hard because he notices, and his grin slowly thins. He examines me.
What happened? Did I do something? I peel my eyes off his face and stop the treadmill.
"Uh, that was—that was time." All you can hear is my heavy breathing. Embarrassing. I parted my lips for a moment to let in more air without gasping, but his eyes flicked to my lips and straight back into my dilating pupils. City noise seeps through the window, making his silent staring less awkward. I am trying to come up with something else to say, but I am out of ideas.
He walks from behind the panel and holds out a hand.
"Ready to shower?" he questions.
"Mhm," I take his hand; the buzzing from the touch is taser-electric, and I almost let go from the shock it sends through my nerves. I grab on and step down from the treadmill, barely able to hum the sound without my voice breaking.
"Then I'll see you at dinner," he flashes me one last smile and leaves the room.
What was that?
"That was—" I clasp my hands over my mouth before saying anything stupid.
That was…thrilling. And nerve-wracking, to say the least. His gaze kept me wondering if I did something, said something, or made it weird. Whatever I did, I'd do it again if he kept offering his hand for me to hold. I brush two fingers from my tingling hand against my lips.
I don't feel guilty about it. I stroll to the bathroom, high on the head-in-the-clouds feeling he didn't mean to give me, but I revel in it all the same. As the water hits my back, dinnertime floats into my love-fogged mind. I never overthought dinner, but now I have changed my heart. Usually, I go straight to bed after, so comfortable clothes are my go-to option. Nothing unique. However, I want a change of pace tonight. I want to wear something—
"...cute," I whisper with a happy grin. I finish up my shower and trot over to my room, sifting through the drawers of the new wardrobe I bought online. I couldn't bear to wear anything that was marinating in that apartment. They aren't much, but they are mine. I pull out a simple, midnight blue evening dress. It was quite the impulse buy, considering I knew I'd never wear lounging clothes as fancy as that, but I suppose the purchase had some use.
It slips on. The midi, silky dress hugs my frame. I supposed this will be the last time I'll be able to fit into it for a long while. I brush my hair better than I usually do and slip on black flats. I dare to glance at my perfume. I pick up the skinny, tall bottle and wonder if it's too much.
"I'm already dressed up," I state, bringing it closer. "Might as well." I spritz under my ears and wrists. It doesn't matter if I'm ready when I am stuck behind the door, hand on the knob, debating if I look stupid.
"Come on," I huff, putting my all into twisting the knob open, but my reluctance keeps the door shut. I should've been at the dinner table already. I have to go.
Slowly and painfully, I open the door, and the butterflies in my stomach turn into venomous snakes, biting at my insides. Evan turns his head to meet my bashful expression, his eyebrows lifting for a millisecond as I walk closer.
"You're dressed up," he states. Not negatively, but it makes some veins in my heart pop.
"Yeah, uh, you're always in a suit…so I thought I'd wear something nice before I'm stuck in drapey maternity clothes for nine months," I plaster on a smile while taking a seat like it was a joke, but there is a lot of truth to it. It isn't dressy, but I'd never seen expecting mothers in anything other than mismatched, loose, unflattering outfits, and my self-esteem was low enough.
"Well, you look nice," Evan compliments. I would've folded like a kitchen rag on the floor if I wasn't already sitting down.
"Thank you," I express, taking a bite of food. He nods his head in acknowledgment.
My nerves should be calm. The living room is cool, the food is warm, the lights aren't too bright, and the night sky shines brighter stars tonight. The only thing that keeps my nerves buzzing is Evan. Out of my peripheral vision, I can see him watching me.
The minutes are building up, and he won't stop monitoring every little thing I do. Take a bite. Chew. Sip my water. Play with the strap on my dress. I'm not imagining things. That wasn't a normal thing he did, but there's no way he could…
Did the dress make that much of a difference? I want to ask why he won't stop looking at me, but then the rest of the night would be awkward. Maybe if I asked differently. Not too obvious. I take a deep breath.
"What was your first impression of me," I ask. Evan sits up, looking a bit caught off guard by the question.
"First impression? Well, I, uh…to be honest, I didn't have too much of an opinion."
