“Plenty of time,” she said with a knowing smile. “I would never let you miss your bus. God forbid you miss seeing him.”

“I regret the day I ever told you,” I grumbled. She smiled, so I poked my tongue out at her but made quick work of the returns so I could be at the bus stop outside the library at 5:06. I couldn’t be late.

I was done by five on the dot, grabbed my satchel, and wrapped my scarf around my neck. It wasn’t too cold yet, but the blue of the scarf matched my shoes. I wore charcoal trousers and a long-sleeve white button-down shirt as a standard dress uniform, so every day I added a little colour where I could. And it had to match. Because I didn’t spend the first eighteen years of my life in the closet and not come out with some sense of style.

I met Merry at the doors of the library and we headed out together. I only had to walk a whole ten or so metres to the bus stop and she headed up Crown Street toward her flat. “We still going tomorrow night?” she asked as I stood in line.

“Ugh,” I said, making a face.

“Jordan, you’re going tomorrow night,” she said, holding my gaze. “We are going tomorrow night. Don’t bother calling in sick tomorrow. I know where you live.”

“That sounds a lot like a threat.”

“Because it is,” she said with a smile.

“I’ll need to go home first and get changed,” I said in a last-ditch effort to bail.

“That’s fine. And if I catch the bus with you back to your place,” she leaned in and whispered, “I’ll finally get to see your guy.”

My stomach knotted with dread. “I never should have told you.”

She looked over my shoulder and nodded. “Speaking of which.”

My bus. The 353 from the city to Newtown. Right on time at 5:06.

“Say hello to him for me,” she said with a smile and waved me off as she turned and walked up the street to her place.

She knew damn well I’d never speak to him, let alone be conversational enough to make any kind of greeting on her behalf. I mean, Jesus fuck, I’d only ever made eye contact with him once and I’d almost died. Literally. He’d looked up once and caught me staring at his beautiful face, I’d stumbled up the narrow aisle, almost fell, took out some poor kid with my messenger bag, and landed in the lap of a nun who, for the record, probably could have done without my “fucking motherfucker” expletive as I fell. On the bright side, Headphones Guy wore noise-cancelling headphones and was oblivious, and I’d slid into a seat up the back with nothing more than a bruised ego and death-stares from the nun. The whole experience had been horrifying.