It was just going to be a couple of hours and a few hundred bucks. But then he asked me to spend the night ...
There must have been at least eight inches of snow. My boots billowed through the heaps in my path as I silently cursed myself for wearing cotton sweatpants. It was a stale cold that night – one where the park was still as stone and even the breeze seemed to have forgotten how to whisper. I pulled my beanie tighter over my ears and kept walking. Why had I agreed to meet him in the first place? With some effort I flicked open our message strain to a new notification:
Him: Hey cutie, you still comin?
Me: yea, I’m 12 mins away. I’ll be frozen by the time I get there lol
Him: Sweet. I’ll warm you up.
I thumbed up on the app to look at his pictures again. He was handsome, with a formidable jawline, a closed-lipped smile, and the same soft eyes as a shy guy at the bar who will look at you but never start the conversation. He was wearing a tuxedo in one of his pictures while holding a glass of champagne. My giggle was stifled by a sharp sheet of wind. Almost comforted by the sudden breath around me I pulled my coat tighter and walked on. I wasn’t far now, and I wouldn’t be there long.
“I’m so sorry I’m freezing!” I said as he opened the door. He dismissed my apology and kissed me. I’d never tasted chardonnay, but I imagined that’s what his lips tasted like. I decided I liked chardonnay. I began peeling off my layers, taking in his modest apartment. His bookshelf confirmed that he was, in fact, a lawyer. Or at least a law student. I imagined brigades of tupperware behind his kitchen cabinets, and rolls of gym shorts in his dresser. I imagined myself down to my T-shirt and my underwear.
“You can come in here, you know,” he teased from his bedroom. “Oh, and it’s on the table. You can count it if you want.”