Work-Date Turnaround!

After work you rushed back to the apartment - the time crunch was real if you were going to make it to Gemma’s for your 6:30 meetup. The problem was ‘rushing,’ when you were relying on public transit, was mostly just running and then waiting at a bus stop or deciding to take an Uber. And while you certainly weren’t broke, you weren’t exactly swimming in cash working a shit-paying internship and you were now dating.

And dating added up quickly, especially when you were Ubering places.

All your rushing got you home about five minutes earlier than usual, and you entered the apartment to find Mosche sitting on the kitchen counter eating your bag of chips.

“Oh, hey dude,” he said. “What’s up?”

“Hey,” you said. “You’re going up for the open mic at Curly’s, right?”

“Yeah, man. I’m supposed to meet Tantric Girl there too. Are you coming out tonight?”

“Yes, and I’m bringing a date,” you said. “Can you please promise me not to try out your crowd work on us? I promise we’ll laugh at all your jokes.”

“Oh, yeah, sure dude,” Mosche said. “Are you bringing that Sabrina girl? She was cute as hell.”

“No, I’m bringing this girl Gemma,” you said, already unbuttoning your office shirt and edging towards the hall and your bedroom for the summer.

“Oh, should I not bring up Sabrina around her? That would be awkward, right?”

“Actually, that’s not a problem,” you said. “Gemma is the girl Sabrina was getting ready for me to go out with on Tuesday.”

“Oooh, cool,” Mosche said. “How’s that… going?”

“Good,” you said. “Actually, really good, but I gotta go, dude. I’m supposed to be across town in like thirty minutes. I’ll see you at the show.”

“Awesome, dude! Thanks for supporting the art,” Mosche called after you.

It was funny - ever since Sabrina had torn through your wardrobe trying to put together a date outfit on Tuesday you had been judging your own clothes more harshly. You decided to just use the secondary outfit Sabrina had been considering, trusting her judgment for clothes over your own at this point.

Ten minutes after you entered the apartment, you were back out of it and trying not to job quickly and break out into a sweat as you headed down the street. You texted Gemma quickly, asking her what colour she was going to wear. She sent you back a picture that looked like she’d zoomed way in on a piece of blue fabric, but you couldn’t even tell if you were looking at a hem or fold or what.

Two blocks over you entered a florist shop and started holding the picture up to the various flowers. One of the workers came over to ask if you needed help, and you ended up explaining the whole thing with the matching flower on your first date with Gemma, and soon you had both workers helping you out as they tittered over how cute you were being.

You ended up with a bright blue flower that looked sort of like a daisy. You didn’t even know what the hell kind of the flower it was - your mind was almost entirely on getting to Gemma’s place and what was waiting for you.

One Uber ride later, you were waiting at the elevator in her building when it dinged and opened, and you were stopped in your tracks as you came face to face with Lucy. Your ex. And she was dressed to the nines in a short, little black dress and tall heels.

She looked you up and down and scoffed. “Really?” she asked.

“What?” you asked back.

“You’re such a fucking nerd,” Lucy said. “You look like a dork, and you're coming to pick her up with a flower? Not even a rose or something?”

“This is our second date,” you said. “I think roses have a little more symbolism than that.”

“Whatever,” she scoffed. “Get out of my way. I have a dinner date.”

“Well, you look nice,” you said, wanting to tell her off but deciding to keep up your ‘kill her with kindness’ routine that you’d started last night. “I hope you have a great time.”

She just narrowed her eyes at you as she walked past, and you didn’t even glance down at her ass to watch her walk away. First, because you fucking knew she was going to look back to try and catch you doing it. Second, because there was a way nicer ass waiting for you just one elevator ride away.

“Why the fuck do I feel nervous?” you muttered to yourself in the elevator. Gemma was great, and she liked you. Kissing her felt natural as hell. You’d already been on one date, and other than the disastrous end of finding out she was living with Lucy, it had gone pretty much as great as you could hope for.

Plus, there was all the stuff you’d done between you, her and Sabrina.

There was really only one answer. You really liked her.

You weren’t even downbad or particularly horny after a long dry spell. You’d fucked Sabrina less than twenty-four hours ago. Twice.

Off the elevator, you walked to her apartment door and made sure you were straightened out, and fixed your hair a little, and checked the flower was all good. And you knocked.

“I got it, it’s for me,” you heard Gemma call from somewhere inside. Just on the other side of the door you heard her approach with a tapping of heels on the floorboard.

Then she opened the door, and you saw her smile with bright red lipstick and her makeup done up beautifully, and your heart surged into your throat. “Hey, John,” she said. “Come on in.”

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