Quiet Secret

Out

I dismiss myself as soon as I complete my in-processing - I don't start the job until Monday, so I have the weekend to get settled in.

I decide, rather than allowing myself to dwell too much on this evening's plans, to disinfect my new house from top to bottom, and unpack everything in one sitting. I make a small list of other supplies I need to pick up, and make a run to the commissary to fill the kitchen.

Then three o'clock rolls around, and I find myself wrapped in my robe after an all-too-extensive everything shower, staring at my phone.

Is it too early to text?

What do I say?

Hey, it's Lavender... from earlier? Wasn't sure what the plans were for tonight.

Backspace, backspace.

Hey, it's Lavender

I watch the cursor blink a couple of more times before I just sigh, putting my phone down and opting to go blow-dry my hair. That'll burn thirty minutes, since I keep it so long.

Renewed with the feeling of having freshly done hair, I hit send on the text I typed out earlier, darting away from the phone to dive into my closet.

It's only Februrary, so I try to find some cute enough, but not too fancy, clothes for the occasion. Jeans? Leggings?

My phone dings with an incoming text, and I hurry over to it.

Hey. Everyone's down to meet up at my place, I'm gonna go pick up the pizza in a bit and then swing by yours. Address?

I type it out, and he responds immediately.

Alright. Be there in an hour

I choose to just like the message, turning back to my clothes, but it dings again.

Looking forward to it :)

I opt for a smiley-face back, ignoring the giddy feeling that I feel as I dig in my closet some more.

Thirty minutes later, I decide on an oversized navy crewneck, white-wash jeans, and Reeboks. It's good enough.

I put my hair up in a clip, spray on my signature perfume, and head downstairs to wait, my heart beginning to race at the prospect of new people - including a new, totally hot guy.

I'm nervously sipping on my Gatorade when I hear a quick honk from outside. I double-check my bag, keys, phone - and then head outside, locking the door behind me and doing the awkward look-away-look-back-tuck-hair-behind-ear that you do as a girl walking up to a guy's car when he's picking you up.

He gets out, rounding the front of the car, a whiff of that delicious spicy-man smell following him, and I see that he's over a foot taller than me - my knees threaten to wobble at the thought - and he is opening the passenger side door.

I finally look up at him, his bright blue eyes meeting my hazel ones - and smile. "Well, thank you," I say, getting in and being met by the smell of pizza drifting up front from the backseat that looks full of boxes.

He closes the door and walks back around, getting in and turning to me.

We're close enough I can see a faint scar under his eye.

"Lavender," he says, reaching for my hand that's resting in my lap, and bringing it to his lips. I take a sharp breath as he kisses it. "A pleasure."

It's so charming, a little too charming, that I think he does this often. So I say it.

"You charm women often?" I ask as he releases my hand, turning to buckle his seatbelt.

John just smiles at me. "Not really, believe it or not. Just the special ones."