Chapter 4

JENSEN

He rings the buzzer right at 7pm. Punctual. I like that. Not that it matters because I’m never seeing him again after tonight since tonight is simply me thanking him for seeing me home safely and not being horrible to me and stuff. It is one long, continual loop in my mind that is convincing no one – especially when I open the door to let him in.

It should be illegal for a man to be that good looking.

Just being a woman tells me what the sensations in my abdomen are, I am turned on by this man. I can feel moisture building between my thighs as he passes by me and I get a good whiff of him… I feel like a puddle of goo. As I close the door to my apartment, I see someone I don’t recognize at the far end of the hall. Looks like I’m getting a new neighbour!

“Come on in, please make yourself comfortable.” I tell him, as he hands me a bottle of wine. “I could give you the grand tour but it would take about a minute and a half.” I joke, turning my attention back to the stove. I’m not kidding though; the kitchen is galley style with room for one, and only an eat-at island for dining. The other half of the ‘great’ room is the living room where my overstuffed sectional is, a bookshelf well past its’ prime featuring sagging shelves ready to give at any moment, and the TV. There are only two doors leading off this room – one is the front door leading back to the hallway, the other to my bedroom which is just big enough for my queen size bed and two nightstands. All of my clothes are in the tiny walk-in which is off the only bathroom in the entire place, located off my bedroom. It’s perfect for me and I love it – but it isn’t great for entertaining.

As I’m cooking, I see him wandering the living room; looking at my various photos, scanning the titles on the bookshelves – and then he finds my guitar. Pointing at it, he looks at me; “You play?” Then realizing that is likely a stupid question – why would I have a guitar if I didn’t play it. He chuckles, “Of course you do. Ignore the question. Let’s go with… how long have you been playing?”

I love to talk about music, and half an hour later we sit down to eat at the island; side by side, I still am. That’s when I realize I haven’t stopped talking yet. He must think I am a total narcissist. I can feel the heat rising as the blush covers my chest and cheeks. No hiding what I’m feeling. Loser with a capital L!

“Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry. That must have been so boring for you. Trying to be polite while someone blathers on whether you’re paying attention or not is…” I pause for a minute to consider it. “I would think it would be kind of like being caught in traffic. Your car hasn’t moved forever but then the beer truck in front of you opens its’ doors and says ‘come on! Pass the time with me!’”, the entire time I’m going on with this ridiculous analogy I’m still contently eating away at the Chicken Fettuccini Alfredo I made.

“And every time the beer truck opens its doors – that would be like when the boring person takes a pause, or a breath or something, you know? But then they always inevitably keep going – so then that would be the beer truck closing its’ doors just as you get there because they run out of beer. So essentially, I’m traffic; and you’re looking for a beer truck.”

I reach for my glass of wine to have a sip, but stop when I see the look on his face. He looks completely stunned.

What?

LOGAN

What the fuck did I just hear? That was the most insane, nonsensical, bat-shit crazy bullshit I’ve ever heard come out of someone’s mouth who wasn’t a four-year-old – and all it did was confirm my initial suspicions.

She’s amazing.

Even more astounding is that she is looking at me surprised that I’m stunned by her nonsense. I have to cross my legs the opposite direction to cover my very rapidly growing erection. She’s killing me and she has no idea. That only makes it better.

“Y-yes, I agree. I run into that at work all of the time – I’m sure you do too, working downtown.” I’m taking a shot – guessing that’s where she was headed the first time we met. She nods her head in agreement.

“All of the time. But fortunately, as the receptionist – I don’t have to entertain the blowhards for long before I get to pass them up the food chain.” She smiles, still eating. I realize I haven’t taken a bite in several minutes, so restart. “I work at Howe Carter, it’s a brokerage firm. You work downtown too?” She asks.

Wait. Does she not know who I am? Really? Or is she playing coy? Wouldn’t be the first time. No… she seems sincere… I don’t want to lie but maybe I have a chance with her without her knowing who ‘Logan Colby’ supposedly is.

“Sometimes I work downtown – you just had good timing, I guess. My company has an office on the west coast I work out of too.” All true. Just not the entire truth. Good enough for now.

“Oh, that’s too bad. I feel sorry for you – I hate flying. Scares me to death.” She gets up, and starts gathering our dishes, and putting them into the sink. Then she turns back to me and asks;

“Are you ready for dessert?”

JENSEN

He left shortly after dessert; store-bought lava cake. He swore he had an early flight in the morning, and that it wasn’t just an excuse to escape. I expected tonight to be a one-time thing but as he was leaving, he asked if it would be okay to call me when he got back to town. I tried to play it cool, and only hope the poor lighting hid the damn blush that always gives me away. Time will tell if he actually calls.

The next morning; as I leave my building, that stranger from the hallway last night is standing outside. He takes my picture! I can’t believe it!

“What are you doing!? Who are you?!” I start shrieking. A couple random strangers approach me, and the creep runs away. One of the crowd offers to call the police, but I decline. What am I going to say? Some perv took a picture of me fully clothed standing in the street? Ya, sure, that’ll get the SWAT team here in a hurry.

An elderly woman is the last to leave my side, but finally does once reassured I have calmed down. I get on my bus, go to work and get through another day, just like millions of my coworkers. Except my day is filled with thoughts of Logan.

I wonder what Logan is doing… Does he have enough room on the plane – he is so tall and there’s so little leg room… Will he call… Why do I suddenly feel like I’m in high school again… Ridiculous! Stop it right now!

Except absolutely no part of my body is listening.