Terms and Agreements (on hold indefinitely)

The Part with the Beginning of the First Date with Mr. Hot Stuff

                                                                          25

I was relieved when I woke up on Friday that my face hadn't really bruised much. I'd put ice on it as soon as I'd gotten home, which stopped the swelling, and I guess the bruising, too.

I was a bit stressed during school about that night, because it was my date with Flynn. Damn that stupid event.

And that stupid as hell dream.

I remembered what Flynn said about "wearing something nice", and so I fell back on my go-to "fancy" outfit: that black sweater, those black leggings, and that pair of black boots. Jeez I need to go shopping.

I tried to do my makeup but eventually gave up and just put on some mascara and lip balm, brushed my hair, grabbed my backpack, and set off for Flynn's apartment at around 6:30 to pick him up and then drive us...wherever we were going.

On my way there, my phone, which was sitting on the passenger seat, buzzed, but I couldn't check it. I contemplated whether I should let Flynn drive us to our unknown-to-me date destination, as that would make more sense because I hadn't a clue where we were going.

But I abso-bloomin'-lutely had to be in control. I'd just put the address in the gps on my phone and go from there, I decided. Except that I hate my gps. It takes me on weird, out-of-the-way routes through dark, creepy neighborhoods and I'm just like, come on gps, only Dumbledore can be that misleading and cryptic with his instructions, okay?

I parked in my usual spot directly in front of a sign that read "For Rent" and gave directions to an apartment on the second floor.

As I turned off the engine, I reached over to fetch my phone, and quickly checked my texts. Obviously, the one that came through while I was driving was from Flynn.

Have you left your house yet?

I decided that instead of wasting my time typing on that infernally-tiny keyboard I'd just go knock on his door. And so I did.

It took three bursts of three knocks each before Flynn opened the door, and by then the Big Bang Theory theme song was playing on repeat in my head, and of course the "Sheldon knock".

"Oh, hey," Flynn said, seeming a bit distracted.

He looked quite dashing in a gray blazer over a black button-down shirt that clashed with his pale skin, and made his dark eyes stand out. His hair was perfectly messy, falling in dark waves over his forehead.

Wait...did I just call Mr. Hot Stuff p-perfect?

Oh shit.

But, no. I shouldn't worry. I only called his hair perfect. There's a difference.

Right? 

Umm.... I suppose I should repeat: oh shit.

"Yeah, I have left my house," I told him instead being a normal human being for once and just saying "hi".

"I can see that," he said, his lips curving into a small smile, "come on in."

He moved aside so I could enter, and I stepped over the threshold.

I was expecting to begin choking on the smell of cigarette smoke and have to leave in a hurry, but to my pleasant surprise, it smelled a bit like chocolate chip cookies instead.

"I smell cookies," I said, sounding a bit too excited about it. I freaking live for cookies.

"Uh, yeah, Angela cooked some earlier," Flynn said as he closed the door.