Masquerade

32

~Willow~

I am nervous as hell about this. After all the crap I've been through in the past month or so, how is it that this is what has me as near to a mental meltdown as I've ever been? This isn't the first time I've been out with Nick. This isn't the first time we've shared a meal or spent time together. It is our first official date, but why is that making such a difference to me?

This is Nick. My mind sticks on those words, and again my heart flutters nervously in my chest. I take a deep breath then let it out slowly, but that doesn't help to calm me at all.

I pace my living room floor, resisting the urge to chew my nails or bite my lip. He'll be here soon and I'm as ready as I'll ever be, but I'm not ready. At least, that's what my mind keeps trying to tell my heart. Am I ready to date again? Officially?

This is Nick. The words slip again through my mind like a lover's sigh, and I feel both lighthearted and terrified in equal measure. I glance at the clock over my desk: five more minutes. Five more minutes and he'll knock. Five more minutes and we won't be just friends. Five more minutes and we'll move into a totally different territory than we've been in up to now.

But then, that's not quite true, is it? Even without the official "dating" title, we've been exploring that realm for a while now. With every tender touch, with every kiss that becomes more demanding than the last, we have long passed the point of mere friendship.

Four minutes.

I smooth my hair back for the hundredth time, then do the same to my dress. I inspect my nails, my stockings, then resist the urge to check my full appearance in the mirror again.

Three min--

His knock is early, and my stomach clenches at the thought of opening the door. I force my feet to move. When I open the door, I find him standing there waiting, wearing his familiar warm smile and holding a small bouquet of daisies. His hair is pulled back tonight, and he's wearing a button down shirt and black jeans. I've never seen him dressed as nice as this, and the contrast to his regular comfortable appearance nearly stops my heart. I stand frozen, just taking all of him in.

When he releases a soft chuckle, my mouth curves into a nervous smile, and when he speaks I have to resist the urge to close my eyes. "Are you going to invite me in, or should I just wait out here?"

I let out a shaky laugh and nod my head. "I'm sorry. I'm just ... yeah."

He laughs again as I move aside to let him in, and I take in the rest of him as he passes. Sweet Jesus, I think as I turn away and shut the door. This is definitely not cheese sticks and beer at the pizzeria--this is t-bone and whiskey neat at the finest steakhouse.

I press my hand against my mouth to quiet the giggle that escapes me. When I turn back around, he is eyeing me thoughtfully. I drop my gaze to the flowers.

"These are for you," he says softly, lifting them up.

"Thank you, Nick."

As I reach for them, I notice a small envelope tucked inside them. My smile widens as I take them from his hand, then move to put them in water, plucking out the card as I go. Once I've situated them in a vase, I pull the card from the envelope, then read it to myself.

I've looked forward to this,
our first date of many

Nick

"You signed it." My smile softens as I look up from the card in my hand and into his eyes.

He smiles back at me and nods his head. "Guess I don't want to be a secret admirer anymore."