I’m not sure if it’s the wine or the fact that we’ve been talking for a while, but I’m getting more relaxed around him. Same as if there was a regular person on the couch next to me, instead of an impossibly sexy hunk from another planet.

We chat a little more and finish the wine before I realize how late it is.

“Sorry,” I say, getting up. My head is dizzier than I’d like. “I have an early morning tomorrow. You?”

“I switched my shifts at the restaurant to lunch, so I’ll be free in the evenings.”

“Perfect. Well, you have your keys, and the Wi-Fi password is on the back of the box.” I point at the modem sitting next to the TV. “The fridge is stocked if you want to eat something; just beware of Blair’s vegetarian crap.”

“I will.” Diego smiles and gets up. And I watch, astonished, as he gathers both our glasses and the bottle and rinses the former in the sink after throwing the latter in the recycle bin. Good looking, down to earth, and with perfect manners. Impressive!

“Mind if I use the bathroom first?” I ask.

He shrugs. “It’s your house.”

Feeling again awkward, I wave. “Good night, then.”

“Night.”

When I come out of the bathroom, Diego is in Blair’s room, out of sight. I slip into my room, change into my PJs and, feeling a bit silly, I lock the door.

***

The next morning, my phone starts ringing the moment I resurface above ground from the subway station closest to work.

I lodge my earbuds in place and pick up.

“Are you alive?” Blair demands, as I begin the short walk to my office building. “Where are you?”

“I answered the phone; that should be a good indication I’m still breathing,” I say, stopping at a red traffic light and wrapping the collar of my coat tighter around my neck. “I’m walking to the office. You?”

“Me, too. Sorry, I’ve just been so worried all night.”

The light turns green and I cross the street. “No need to be; Diego is a perfectly nice guy.”

“Nice or not, Richard agrees with me: you were reckless to invite a total stranger into our house.”

“You told him?” I almost stop in the middle of the road, but the Manhattan pedestrian crowd prompts me forward.

“Of course I did. How else was I supposed to explain my late night pick up request?”

“Saying you wanted to spend time with him?”

“Oh, please, I’d just left him, he would’ve known something was up. He also said he wants to meet this guy before we drive home with him.”

“Oh my gosh,” I sigh, exasperated, as I open the door of my favorite Starbucks. “Richard is just as paranoid as you are.”

“No, we’re both responsible adults.”