I could be on a fucking dental billboard, the way my mouth stretches into a smile at her suggestion.
‘Fuck yes,’ I say eagerly, making her giggle.
‘Okay, well, what should we do?’
I have an idea. I’ve wanted to try this new distillery for a while, but I don’t know if it would be up her alley.
‘How do you feel about trying out a new distillery with me?’ It occurs to me that I have no idea what type of alcohol she even likes or if she just drinks it to dull the pain.
‘Sounds like a blast.’
I hesitate at my next words. ‘And it won’t…you know…set you off?’
‘I’m not an alcoholic, Linc. I can handle my alcohol. I like alcohol. It’s not a trigger or whatever, but I appreciate you checking.’ She seems glum that I asked, and I can’t have that.
‘Then in that case, what’s your favourite?’ It’s absurd that I don’t know something as simple as her favourite spirit. It also irritates me.
‘Gin, but I like vodka too.’
Perfect.
‘I know just the place then. Dress casual, and I’ll pick you up at six?’
‘Can’t wait.’
We talk all the way home. She asks me about my projects, and not because it’s my job, but because she has lived and breathed architecture and construction her whole life as I have. It’s a major turn on to be able to geek out over what I do and actually have her understand and challenge me. I reciprocate, asking about her upcoming interviews and how her filming went with Jas. She wanted Jas to get as high a mark as possible for her assignment, so she offered to do a short interview on camera as well to accompany the printed version that would get handed in.
Before I know it, I’m home.
‘You better go inside,’ Amity says.
‘How did you know I was home?’
‘I heard you switch the car off.’ She is always so attentive.
‘I’m going to have a quick shower and get dressed, okay?’
‘Sounds like a plan.’ I hear the softness in her voice. ‘Hey, Linc?’ I love it when she calls me that.
‘Yeah, Hart?’
‘This is nice….’
‘What’s nice, baby?’ I gather my laptop bag and keys, shuffling out of the car.
‘Us talking again…and being back in each other’s lives.’
A warmth spreads through my veins as I stop mid-driveway.
‘Yeah, baby, it is.’
As I approach my front door, I have a visceral need to see her in my home. ‘Hey, Hart?’
‘Hmm?’ I hear tinkling on the other end like she’s picking up make-up or jewellery or perfume or something on her dresser.
‘After our date, did you maybe want to sleep over?’ I take a stab in the dark, but I might as well have just stabbed myself in my own brain at how stupid and juvenile that request just was. A sleepover? What am I? Ten?
Luckily, she giggles again, and it’s a flirty sound.