On the second beep of the microwave, Mary popped the door open and retrieved her dinner. From there, it was an about-face and two steps before she sat down at the small table tucked under the equally small window of her New York City apartment.
As NYC apartments go, Mary's wasn't half bad, really. It was small for a one bedroom, at only about 500 sq. ft, but clean; no roaches or rodents. The living room was big enough for a loveseat and coffee table, across from the wall mounted flatscreen TV she never watched, and an old wingback chair she found at a second hand store and reupholstered herself. The bathroom was just big enough for the tub and shower combo, toilet and pedestal sink.
The bedroom had been the selling point for her. It was tiny, just like the rest of the apartment, with just enough room to walk around her full sized bed if she turned sideways. But the outside facing wall was the original brick that the building was built with, rather than plaster, giving the room a cool industrial vibe.
When decorating it, she'd taken cues from a magazine she'd seen in a waiting room somewhere. Her bedding was all white, her comforter down filled, with equally plush pillows contrasting with the harsh brick red of the wall. She'd hung fairy lights to tangle with the gauzy curtains that covered the dismal view from the window. Giving it an ethereal appearance.
A chime allerted her to a new message as she dropped her cell phone beside her Lean Cuisine. Settling herself at the table to eat, Mary mindlessly twirled the pasta onto her fork as she swiped her finger across the smooth screen. At the sight of who the message was from, her heart leapt in her chest and her palms grew damp.
She barely even knew Tom. She met him on one of those online dating websites... a week ago? Maybe two? His profile picture had drawn her attention. Taken at Halloween, he was dressed as the Talladega Nights guy, and the rest of his profile had been equally, hysterically, tongue–in-cheek. His sense of humor that initially caught her attention, but it was his smile that reeled her in. With a dimple peeking through the sandy colored scruff shading his cheeks, and the way his blue eyes flashed mischievously, her finger hit the message button on his profile before her brain had given the order.
Mary considered herself to be a realist. She didn't believe in love at first sight or serendipity. Instead she believed that you made your own luck and sometimes shitty things happen to good people. But even she couldn't help but notice that there was something about Tom; something that reached out to her, filling her stomach with butterflies that flit and flirted.
Her phone chimed again with another message. Mary couldn't stop her grin as she skimmed his message. Until she reached the end. Her mouth dropped open and the fork she was holding halfway to her mouth fell from her fingers, taking most of the pasta with it as it clattered to the floor.
Tom was coming to New York, and he wanted to meet her.
They'd only been messaging each other for a couple weeks. For crying out loud, they hadn't even spoken on the phone yet. There was no way she was ready to meet him in person. Was she?
Butterflies erupted in her guts whenever she thought of Tom. Now they flew into an absolute frenzy as she chewed on her bottom lip. Maybe this was the push she needed to make the next step in their--could she even call this a relationship? Her fingers trembled slightly as she read his text over and over, trying to decide how to respond. Was she ready to meet him? Despite her brains hesitation, her heart thumped heavily in her chest. An exuberant giggle bubbled up from deep inside of her, and she covered her mouth with both hands to stifle it.
Hell yes she wanted to meet him. Reason be damned, there was something about Tom that she wanted to explore. Stomping her feet on the floor, she squealed before picking her phone up to reply.
