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“What’s this?” Anna squeals, pulling out a scarf like a clown pulling handkerchiefs out of his sleeve. It’s a vast, furry thing in various pastel colors and it just keeps on going. She tugs it as it gets caught on something and when it gives, she stumbles backwards. Instinctively, I reach out to catch her but she catches her balance before she falls into my arms.
I let myself fantasize the end of that scene anyway. The way she would press her hands against my chest, look up at me with wide eyes and open mouth. Thank me for rescuing her, and I would pretend to be humble until she would ask how she could repay me. And I would do a grin to drive her crazy and lean down until our lips met, and…
Am I reading signs into something that isn’t there? She is tolerating me now, after all.
Maybe our city date will change something. Obviously it’s not really a date, but I can call it whatever I want in my head. I haven’t been on a date inforever. I’ve barely kissed the same person twice recently.
Anna is still crying with laughter at the scarf. It must be fifteen feet long, minimum. She wraps it around and around her body, mummifying herself in yarn. Only her nose and smile stick out. “How do I look.”
“Gorgeous,” I say and she laughs again but I didn’t mean it at all sarcastically. The more I talk to Anna, the more I can see how much she shines. There’s a sun inside her and it makes her glow. She’s so genuine and that’s what makes her beautiful to me.
I hate that she wouldn’t believe me if I told her.
“Help me out of this,” she says as she tries to peel back the furry layers. I close the gap between us and start pulling at it, like a cat playing with string.
We manage to unravel her and as the scarf drops to the floor, there’s only a breath of space between our bodies. It would be so easy to lean in now, to take her face in my hands and kiss her — gently at first, until we figured out the shape of each other’s lips, and then I would pull her closer, let the kiss get deeper, our mouths open as we explored, hands roaming, learning, finding new things to enjoy, the feeling of skin on skin…
I shake my head and step back. God, I’m getting bad with this. But I’m a big boy, I can let the infatuation pass and keep it in my head. Keep my cool until she comes to her senses and runs as fast as she can in the opposite direction.
The thing is, I don’t want her to run. She makes me smile too much. And that’s why I’m not going to ask.
“I had no idea Ben owned this muchstuff.” She pulls out another scarf, a kind of gray that brings out her green eyes, complementing her dark slacks and blue spotted blouse. I feel so underdressed compared to her. Even though I get the feeling that this is casual for her, next to my ancient chinos and T-shirt, she’s elegant and composed.
“Makes you wanna go snooping through the rest of his cupboards, doesn’t it?”
She shakes her head. “He would be so mad if we did. Can you imagine?”
I definitely can. Ben’s a great guy, but when his temper flares up, he can be scary. “Maybe let’s not.”
“He’s already going to hate that we’ve borrowed his stuff.”
“Nah,” I say, finally deciding on a sweater. It’s a zillion times more boring than anything I would ever normally wear but that’s kind of the point. Joel Lockhart wouldn’t be caught dead in oversized gray knitwear. God! If this wasn’t my ticket to freedom, I would be so miserable at looking so unfashionable. It’s not even like bad fashion in a counterculture way — at least they’re saying something. This is just boring as hell.
Anna pulls on a knit hat, the pompom wobbling about on top like an ice skater going round and round. It’s November, so the pop-up ice rink is probably open. Maybe if this goes well, we can head in that direction and I can convince her to come skating with me.
“Because I’m sure you were planning to wash everything yourself.” She throws a matching hat at me. Her aim’s awful so it smacks me square in the face then flops sadly to the floor. She snorts in laughter. “Oops.”
I reach down to pick it up. “I was, actually,” I say, more defensive than I meant to be. I’ve let her tease me all week because I basically do deserve it, and I’m not sure why that comment got under my skin when it’s no different to anything else she’s accused me of lately.
“I’ll believe it when I see it,” she grins. “Stop sulking,” she adds at seeing my frown, leaning over to punch me gently in the arm. “You want to go out, don’t you?”
“You remember the part where this was my genius idea?”
She rolls her eyes. “Maybe skip the genius part.”
I huff, folding my arms, unable to come up with a response. “Whatever. Pick me out a raincoat.”
“To go over the sweater?”
“I figure I might go full ugly. That way no one’ll recognize me for sure.”
She hums, considering, turning back to the clothes rail, her fingers dancing over the fabrics as she thinks. “Try this one.”
It’s blue and baggy and old. I take it like it’s infected, inspecting it for bugs or holes. Obviously Ben’s a clean kind of guy but I haven’t worn anything more than three years old in a while. I’m surprised it’s not in rags or a thrift store — more than five years old makes something practically vintage.
Still, I’m playing the part of the ordinary citizen. I slip it over my shoulders. “It’s not too bad, actually.” I shrug, turning to look at myself in the mirror hanging from the wardrobe door. It’s not flattering but it could be way worse.
“Blue suits you. Brings out your eyes,” Anna comments, then flushes a little. She returns to rummaging, pulling out another scarf to wrap around her neck as if that’s a distraction from what she said. This is exactly the kind of thing that’s been tormenting me as I fall asleep at night, little sentences that slip from her mouth and try to lull me into the idea that she might be into me.
