I walk into my lobby, pretending not to have a care in the world. I smile at the nighttime security and press the button for the elevator on shaky legs. “It’s just a myth,” I keep saying over and over again. When I step into the elevator and turn to look out, I see him sitting in the cab with his eyes on me. It’s dark, but I would know his eyes anywhere. The door closes, and when it finally does, I lean back and put my hand up on the rail. “What the fuck?”

I unlock my door and walk in, not turning on the lights. I don’t do anything but go sit down on the couch and gaze outside. I think back on the day, and what I thought would happen. I thought I would show up at his place, we’d fuck, and it would be done. The itch would be gone and the whole chase over. What I wasn’t expecting was to be so properly fucked that I wanted to go back for more. Today, tonight, tomorrow—I wanted it. I rub my hands over my face, and it’s the wrong thing because his smell is all around me. I need another shower to wash him off me. I get up and step into the shower, the hot water washing away all his touches. “Are you going to call me?” I still hear his voice.

I dab myself with the white plush towel and replay the dinner over in my head. I don’t ever date, so I wasn’t prepared for his questions about me or what I did for a living. What shocked me even more was that I wanted to know more about him. I wanted to know what he liked to eat and what his favorite color was. I was actually interested in knowing everything about him, and it freaked me out so much I had to stand and get away from him. My heart speeds up when I think about him taking me in the hallway, and the condom in his pocket as if he’d planned it all along.

Sliding into bed, I grab the cream on my night table and rub it over my hands. As I turn on the television, my body feels like it went through fifteen rounds of boxing. My arms hurt, and I didn’t even use them. The second my head hits the pillow, I’m out like a light, and he’s there, waiting for me in my dreams. His smile, his touch, everything is there, and when my phone rings, I feel like I’m in that movie Groundhog Day.

“This better be someone dead,” I say, not even looking at the name on the phone.

“It’s almost eleven,” Karrie says, chuckling, and I hear horns in the background. “Why are you still sleeping?”