Madison: Ky.

Sara: ?

Madison: He called the guy.

Sara: Did you let him into your apartment?

Madison: No. He just opened the door and left.

Sara: I meant Ky.

Madison: Oh. No. Should I have?

Sara: I have no idea.

Madison: I hate this.

Sara: Me too.

KY

“Hi,” she squeaks, looking down at the pizza box in my hand.

“Your place or mine?” I try to joke, but the shakiness in my voice betrays the confidence I’m trying to exude.

She doesn’t move.

I square my shoulders and clear my throat. She still doesn’t respond. After a beat, I tell her, “It’s my form of an apology.”

“For what?” she asks, brow bunched in genuine confusion.

“For earlier—when you were locked out and I laughed at you.”

“I’m sorry. I was just super sensitive after the shitty day I’d had.” She opens the door fully and steps to the side.

I don’t hesitate. Not for a second. “I like pizza,” she says, following behind me as I walk to her kitchen. Her apartment’s the same layout as mine, only opposite. The front door opens to the living room, kitchen to the right, two bedrooms on the left, and a bathroom and laundry room between them. “How much do I owe you?” she asks.

I wave her off. “Nothing, it’s a gift...for both of us, really.”

“A gift for you too?”

I turn to her and swallow my nerves—Doctor Aroma’s advice replays in my head. “Well, you kind of have to eat it with me.”

She smiles—a shy kind of smile that completely intrigues me. “I can deal with that.”

MADISON

I think I'm doing a good job of hiding my nerves. It's not just him that makes me nervous; it's all of it.

“When did you move in?” he asks.

I finish chewing my pizza. “The day you found me fighting a war with your mailbox.”

He laughs before saying, “Are you from around here?”

I stand and pick up my plate and the now empty box of pizza off of the coffee table and set them down on the counter, and then I try to focus on exactly what it is my answer should be. “Yes,” I tell him, and hope that it's enough.

“Oh yeah? Where abouts?”

I tense for a moment, then squeeze my eyes shut, trying desperately not to panic. “Just around.”

I turn to him, but he's right there, inches in front of me. His eyes narrow as he searches my face for something. I have no idea what. “Madison,” he breathes out.

My breath catches.

He smiles. “You wanna watch TV or something?”

“You don't wanna go home?”

“Are you kicking me out?”

I shrug again. “Just don't want to take up all of your time.”

“I can't imagine a better way to spend my time.”

I drop my gaze to the floor, my cheeks warming with my blush.

“So?” he asks.

I stare at his feet. And then I inhale sharply and muster the courage to look up at him and say, “Your place or mine?”

He smiles.

Stupid dimples.

***

The lights are off. A show about renovating houses is on. We're sitting on my couch and his leg is touching my leg. I want to move away but I have no room to move. He clears his throat and leans forward, causing his leg to press harder against mine. “So,” I start, and then stop myself when I realize how loud I was. I inhale a calming breath before continuing. “Do you work? I mean I'm sure you work, but what do you do? For work?” It might be possible that I've somehow lost the ability to form complete, proper, sentences.

“I'm between jobs,” he says, leaning back and throwing his arm behind me. “You?”

I can feel his eyes burning a hole in the side of my head. “Kind of the same.”

“I thought that maybe you'd be in college or something.”

He's been thinking about me. “No,” I tell him, staring straight ahead.

“How old are you?”

I turn to him, eyebrows pinched. “How old are you?”

“Twenty-three.”

“Twenty-two,” I say confidently, even though I could be wrong.

He nods, his eyes fixed on mine. “Nice.”

“Nice?”

His phone sounds, causing him to sigh loudly before reaching into his pocket. His bites his lip while he checks his phone. Then he looks up at me. “It's been real nice, “. We should do this again sometime, but I have to go.” He's already on his feet before he finishes speaking.

I walk him to the door.

Once he's out in the hallway, he turns and looks at me. I wait for him to say something. Nothing comes. He just stares. Then he licks his lips, and starts to move in.

I panic and shut the door in his face.

KY

“What took you so long?” Jackson says when he answers the phone.

“Sorry. I was preoccupied.”

“Ky,” he says impatiently.

“I was just talking to my neighbor.”

“A girl?”

“So what if it is?”

“You can’t be distracted.”

“Are you serious right now?”

“I can’t have this shit fuck up...not over some girl. You need to be focused. In control. All the time.” After a pause, he adds, “You know what this assignment means to me.”