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Steven invited me over yesterday. Now, this may not seem like a big deal, but it's a big deal. Neither Steven nor Marc has invited me over to their home, and I have absolutely no idea why. Every time we have a hook up or go on a date, it's my place or out in the city. Never his house. So of course I'm freaking out while riding up the elevator.
I picked out my favorite dress for this date, which I'll admit, makes me slightly self conscious due to how revealing it is. My cleavage is visible, but not an extreme amount, and the end of my dress stops right before my knees. Since it is tight and fitting, everything about my structure is out for the world to see, even though it is hidden by fabric.
I did my hair, too, which is a rare occurrence. But I want to look good for him tonight.
My heart is racing so much I'm afraid my dress will reveal that, too. I have to breathe deeply when the *ding* of the lift echos throughout the hallway, and remember to exhale. I don't even know why I am so nervous - I've been dating Steven (and Marc) for about three weeks. Why does me being invited into his home make our relationship any different? It doesn't. I need to calm down.
I open my phone again to check his apartment number even though I memorized it.
Fuck. 502. This is it. I'm here. I pull down my dress some more and flatten down all the wrinkles I've caused, then put my phone in my purse and prepare myself to knock. Bloody hell I hate this.
My fist lightly bumps the brown door three times and I adjust my purse while gazing down the dim hallway.
The door opens, and my stomach flutters when I see Steven in the black button up I like.
"Hi."
"Hello." He stretches out the 'o', and I can't help but grin at how his hair is falling into his face, and he returns with his hearty smile that reaches the corners of his eyes.
