“Hi!” I say in the warm voice oozing with charm I typically reserve for customers. “It’s so good to see you. Thank you for, um, having me over.”

He steps back, allowing me to enter the apartment. “Your text was mysterious. I’m curious.”

I laugh to stall for time. His place is gorgeously masculine. Along one wall, there’s a chestnut brown leather sectional with a green plaid blanket tossed over its arm. An angular brass lamp shines light on a meticulously organized bar cart and a sleek wooden coffee table. His suit jacket hangs over the back of a chair. This is a major upgrade from Holden’s apartment, which basically just contained a mattress on the floor and a dead succulent on the windowsill. I set down the wine in its black liquor store bag and my tote, and turn to face him. I stuff my hands in my back pockets so I can’t give away my nerves by fidgeting.

“I thought we could have some wine and I could apologize for not kissing you the other day in Central Park,” I say.

A look of embarrassment flashes over his features before he settles into a bemused grin. He runs a hand over his chin.

“You did dodge me, didn’t you?”

“I did, but only because I was a little nervous,” I say. “Because I like you.”

My stomach tightens when I hear my own impulsive words out loud. Maybe it was a ridiculous mistake to zip across the city and barge up here with sweet, canned lines like I’m every hero who’s ever chased down a girl in a rom-com. Maybe Blake has moved on.

But instead, he takes three strides to close the gap between us and kisses me. He weaves his fingers through my hair and places a sturdy hand on the curve of my waist. The adrenaline that’s been building ever since I first stepped onto the subway washes over me. I did it. I like that when we finally pull apart, I can see him smiling for real.

Like magic, the kiss cuts through the tension between us. I don’t feel nervous as he opens the wine with a corkscrew from his bar cart and pours two generous glasses. We settle onto the couch, my legs curled up beneath me, his stretched out confidently. He compliments my bravado, showing up here; I volley back something about how good he looks in his work clothes; he brushes his hand across the pebbled leather of the couch to run a finger over my knee. It feels good to be bold. The chemistry begins to come alive.