“I’ve never heard you be so soft on someone before. Especially a man. He still can’t demand you see him around his schedule. You know that, right?”

I grunted. “Of course I know that. I’m just kind of touched, you know? That he remembered how much I like Ryden, that he was so vulnerable with me. It gives me a high, having access to that kind of male vulnerability.” The last part dropped out of my mouth before I even registered it. But it was true. It had always been true. And in the past maybe I would have used it to my advantage. Maybe in the present, too.

It was unseasonably warm on Wednesday, almost summer-like. I had sweat through my work clothes as I descended into the subway, my cotton Magdelena T-shirt sticking to my back, my long hair tied up and twisted on top of my head. I’d felt guilty leaving Huda as the rest of the team cleared out of the office. She had to go over the expense reports tonight, her least favorite activity. Attention to detail, budgeting for the next month, that was my job, to guide her in the right direction. But she waved me away. “I know you have a date tonight. I’ll be fine. You can fix my mistakes in the morning, anyway.” I acquiesced, told her I’d be back in the office as early as possible.

I was excited for the date. It had been so long since I’d been genuinely excited for a date, instead of ambivalent, almost forgetful that it was happening at all. I examined my thoughts about this, tried to analyze them into rationality. He was definitely occupying brain space that was usually filled with a laundry list of other things: buyers I needed to contact for work, trade shows and events I had to organize, what food I needed from the store for that week. Instead, his face kept coming to mind, chiseled and handsome, almost stoically so, his imperfections becoming more and more idealized in my head, as if the chemicals in my brain were erasing his flaws.

He was taking me to Selena, a restaurant by the Brooklyn Bridge on the water. The obvious course of the night would be a walk back to his brownstone. I tucked a toothbrush into my purse. I almost brought a change of clothes but decided against it. I would just come home before leaving for the office. Or, worst case, I’m sure I had some clothes stashed in my desk somewhere.

I chose a white eyelet baby doll dress with piping, its edges frayed the tiniest bit, an intentional deconstructed touch. I’d found it at an Upper East Side Housing Works. It made me feel young and innocent, like I was playing dress-up. I put on too much blush, bright pink lipstick. I kept my hair knotted on top of my head, put on tiny silver hoops.