Falling in Love & Other Diasters

Painted

My ass is about halfway off my chair, my leg stretched out in a valiant attempt to wrangle the stiletto heel that had slipped off, when my phone vibrates against the glass pane atop my desk. Not bothering to check the caller ID, I answer and bring the phone to my ear, my voice strangled as I make one last desperate plea for my footwear. "Hello?"

"You know, you really shouldn't answer calls from unknown numbers." I can hear the smile in Bodhi's face. I forgo imagining it on his face to keep the daydreams at a minimum.

Giving up on my shoe, I sit up straight in the rolling chair and blame the quickness of my movements on the breathiness of my voice. "I can't live my life with so many rules."

"Fair enough," he laughs. "Sorry for the surprise call. Brenton gave me your number."

I wish I could say that was surprising. "Did he now?"

"I told him that I need to apologize to you."

My eyebrows lifted in surprise, despite knowing he couldn't see me, not remembering what offense he possibly could have caused me the last time we interacted. "What for?"

There's a pause as though he's debating whether or not to continue and with each passing second, my heartbeat quickens. Finally, he says softly, "For trying to kiss you the other day."

My breath catches in my throat. Of course I remember that moment. I just hadn't thought of it as an event warranting an apology seeing as...well, I'd wanted it. I'd wanted it so badly.

But I suppose part of being an adult is not allowing what I want to eclipse my responsibilities. And as of this particular moment, my responsibility is to Brenton and being the friend that he needs me to be. I clear my throat softly and then reply, "I don't recall that happening."

There's another moment of silence and I squeeze my eyes shut and hope he doesn't fight me, letting out a sigh of relief when he says, "I guess I'm off the hook, then."

Despite knowing I made the right decision, there's an ache in my chest. "I guess so."

"Well, good," he replies, clearing his throat and changing his tone from melancholy to hopeful. "Cause I actually need a favor."

"That didn't take long," I joke.

He laughs. "I need you to help me decorate my apartment."

"I'm not an interior designer," I remind him.

"I know, but you have great taste."

A grin stretches my lips involuntarily. "That's true."

He laughs softly. "So will you help?"

There's a part of me that knows that it's a bad idea. I had just finished pointedly ignoring the fact that we were milliseconds away from having an irreversible romantic moment the other night. I shouldn't be tempting fate by putting myself in another situation which could lead to the same result.

But there's another part of me, namely the swirling in my gut, telling me I'll regret not allowing myself the opportunity to get to know him. And if there's anything I've learned from my twenty-six years on this planet, its that regret is one of the more awful emotions to feel.

So I lean into the pounding of my heart and say, "Okay."

"Awesome," his tone brightens. "Can you come over after work? I'll text you the address."

"Alright," I agree, feeling the excited butterflies begin to form in my stomach. "See you then."

I spend the next few hours at work checking the clock every ten minutes and trying to decide when it would be a reasonable time to leave. By the time six rolls around, I'm almost jittery and lock up the gallery with an efficiency I've never exhibited before. I text Bodhi for his address and his coffee order forty-five minutes later, I'm knocking on the door of his third floor walk up in the design district, lattes in hand.