A date.
“Oh, um, okay. I’ll wait for you in my apartment.”
“See you at six, Kelsey.” Alex hangs up before I can say anything. I stay in the private room and do a little dance before straightening my clothes and heading back to my desk. Except, I bypass my cubicle and head right to Valentine’s and tell her all about the conversation, squealing as quietly as I can when I get to the part about the flowers.
FOUR
ALEX
“Good evening,” I say to the doorman. “I’m here to see Kelsey Sloane.”
“Yes, sir, go ahead. There’s a house phone near the elevators.”
“Thank you.” He holds the door for me, and I step into the lobby and look around. Every secure apartment building looks different from others. With Noah’s, you have to check in at the receptionist's desk and get your picture taken before you’re even allowed to go through the locked gate. Even if he calls down and tells the person sitting at the desk that he’s expecting you and it’s okay to send you up, they still follow the procedures they have in place.
Gotta appreciate security.
I pull my cell phone out of my pocket and call her.
“Hey,” she says. “I’m 505. I’ll buzz you in now.”
Kelsey hangs up before I can ask her how everything works. The elevator opens and I step in. There are no buttons to press, only a card slot. “Interesting,” I say to the empty car.
When I get to the fifth floor, it’s a right down the hall. I’m thankful she left her door shut because for some odd reason, I really want to knock and have her answer. Call me old-fashioned or whatever it might be. Although, I also like seeing someone waiting for me while leaning against the door frame. I guess that makes me a walking contradiction when it comes to what I like.
Standing in front of her door, I look at the 505 and smile before taking a deep breath, knocking, and holding the flowers I bought at the center of my chest. My lips move from a smile to no smile, and then back again. It’s my hope that my smile seems endearing and not at all creepy. Believe me, I get the over-eager smile, and I often have one, especially during photoshoots or fan meet and greets. I know the line, “Alex you need to relax,” all too well.
The door swings open, and she’s there, her focus moving from me to the flowers and then back to me again. Her grin slowly spreads across her face, and I know I’ve done well. “Hi,” she says breathlessly. I swallow hard and force myself to look at her instead of staring. Kelsey’s wearing a black and blue dress, with a deep v-cut that accents the valley between her breasts. Eyes up top, mister. “Would you like to come in?”
“Of course.” My hand extends, almost shoving the flowers into her chest. “Sorry, I’m nervous.”
“Really?” Kelsey takes the bouquet and inhales their fragrant scent. “You weren’t nervous the other day. Or were you?”
Is she not?
“I wasn’t, and I think it’s because yesterday was a job, so to speak.” Her face falls, but she nods. “I’m not saying being with you felt like work because I had a great time teaching you about the game, but it was a work assignment. If that makes sense. Tonight, it’s a date, and I’m trying to make a good impression.”
Kelsey’s eyes light up and she gives me a shy smile before turning away slightly. “You’re making a very good first impression.”
“Phew.” I wipe away the imaginary sweat from my forehead. “I work hard to lose the dumb jock stigma.”
“I don’t even know what that is,” she tells me. “I’ve never hung out with a jock.”
“Never? Not even in school? None of your friends played sports?”
Kelsey shakes her head. “Not really. I knew a few, but we never spent time together outside of the classroom or school. I’m going to put these beautiful flowers in some water. Feel free to look around.”
She disappears behind a corner, leaving me in her living room. I do look around because she encouraged me, but I’m very careful about what I touch because everything is white. Or maybe it's off white? Or cream? I haven’t a clue but she’s the exact opposite of me with my black couch and dark wood furniture. Along the main wall, she has a floor-to-ceiling entertainment center. Her flat screen television sits between bookcases filled with not only books, but other personal items, like awards, figurines, and statues that I assume are bookends.
“Do you like to read?” she asks from behind me. I startle at the sound of her voice and turn quickly to face her.
“Sometimes. It’s hard during the season because I’m focused on the playbook and preparing for each team we face. During the off season, I’ll read a book or two. What type do you edit?”
“Contemporary romance or women’s fiction.”
“Can’t say I’ve ever read one of those.” I chuckle.
“Maybe you can read the football one when I get it from the author.”
Or you can read it to me!
“Yeah, sure. We want to make sure it’s as accurate as possible.”
“Exactly,” she says as she comes and stands next to me. Kelsey picks up one of her awards. “One of the books I edited debuted on the New York Times bestseller list and the publisher I worked for gave this to me. It’s one of my greatest achievements.”
“How many times has that happened?”
“Just the once. The market . . . it’s saturated and it’s very hard for authors to get the attention they deserve without them or their publisher pumping tens of thousands into ads, and even those aren’t guaranteed.”
“Well, once is better than nothing.”
“It really is. It’s a massive feat for everyone involved.”
“And this one?” I point to another award.
“My author reached a million sales. I had this made for her and made myself one as well to mark the accomplishment.”
“Your publisher didn’t?”
She shakes her head. “Willamette Publishing does. It’s the reason I took the job with them. They treat their authors extraordinarily well. They mark occasions like birthdays and holidays, and send flowers on release days. Authors appreciate it and work harder. Editors appreciate it because it makes our authors happy. And when it comes to writing, happiness is important.”
“Being happy is important no matter what,” I say. “You have a beautiful place.”
“Thank you.” Kelsey looks around. “It’s slowly coming together.”
“Shall we go?”
She nods. “Let me grab my coat.”
I follow her to the closet and help her into her coat before holding the front door open for her. Once she locks the door behind us, I guide her down the hall with my hand on her back and press the button to call the elevator. When we get outside, she waves to the door attendant and then pulls up short when we reach my car.
“Um . . . new car?”
“No, this is my regular car.” I don’t know how much a Model S Tesla can be thought of as a regular car considering the charging needed but it’s this or hoisting her up into my truck again. Not that I wouldn’t mind helping her get into my truck, but I think I’ll save the somewhat sexual touching for date number three. I open the door for her and wait for her to slide into the passenger seat. If she’s anything like me, she’ll appreciate the buttery soft leather seats. They’re one of my favorite things about my car.