Page 26 of Meet Stan

Our laughter was interrupted when the driver rolled down the privacy screen to ask for directions to my building. It wasn’t showing up on his GPS for some reason.

Stan walked me all the way up to my apartment, holding my hand the whole way. He didn’t let go once we were inside the building, out of sight of the driver. Out of sight of anyone, really.

I kept waiting for him to let go, but he didn’t. I wondered if that meant something or not. Maybe I was confused, or he was, or both of us.

“Well, this is me,” I said when we got to my door. He let go of my hand at last and I dug into my purse to get out my key. “Thanks. I had fun—um, that is, on our fake date.”

“This is the third fake date, right?”

“Yeah,” I said.

“You know what they say about the fourth date.”

I rolled my eyes.

“Yes, Stan, the fourth date always ends in sex—which is hogwash, by the way—but even if it were true, then it wouldn’t apply to a fake date. I mean, the fourth fake always ends in fake sex. Think about it.”

“Touche.” He touched his heart and smiled to acquiesce the point.

“I did have a good time, though. I do like getting all fancy and doing my nails and stuff on occasion.”

“You were the hottest woman there.”

“Oh, stop,” I said, my cheeks flushing red. “Nobody’s watching. You don’t have to say things like that right now.”

“I don’t have to, no,” he said. His smile faded, and we spent a long time looking at each other before I cleared my throat and changed the subject.

“So what was with that guy from HR with the toupee? I mean, did he expect us not to notice?”

“You know what’s really fucked up?” He took my bait, thankfully. “He actually looks better bald. I mean, I’m serious, his head has this nice aesthetic shape to it, and his skin tone is real even. I don’t know why he covers it up with a rug.”

We both laughed, and then the door up the hall burst open and Mrs. Hickenbottom stuck her curler laden head into sight

“It’s after midnight, do you two think you’re going to be wrapping this up anytime soon or should I take an extra Lunesta?”

“Sorry, Mrs. Hickenbottom,” I said.

“Whatever.” She snorted.

“Good night, Ivy,” Stan said with a warm, wistful smile.

“Good night, Stan.”

He started to turn to leave, but Mrs. Hickenbottom wasn’t done meddling.

“Hey, aren’t you going to kiss her goodnight?”

Stan stopped. My heart skipped a beat. He turned to me and kind of shrugged, then leaned in and pecked me on the lips.

“What was that?” Hickenbottom snapped. “Are you kissing your mother?”

He cocked an eyebrow at her, and then turned back to me and clutched me to his body. His lips mashed on my own in a hard kiss. Stan’s tongue found its way inside and lashed against my own. I was breathless and dizzy when he let me go.

“See you,” he said.

“See you.”

I got into my apartment fast before my legs gave out. No way do you kiss someone like that as a performance.

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