After the mani and pedi, Brit made me promise once more that I’d call her as soon as I could after my date and then I headed back to my apartment. Careful with my shiny purple nails, I took the longest shower in my life and then went through my entire closet. Every time I looked at the time and saw it getting closer and closer to seven, I felt my heart throw itself against my ribs like it was just about to climb out of my chest.

I had my whole freaking closet on my bed and half on my floor. Seemed kind of stupid to be this indecisive about what to wear, but I honestly had no idea. Finally, after almost breaking down and calling Brit for advice, I settled on a pair of skinny jeans tucked into black boots and a deep green cap sleeve blouse that was a little dressy and flirty.

I took the same amount of time on my makeup and hair, just as bad as it had been when he’d come over to watch movies. It struck me funny as I applied mascara that I’d be this concerned with my appearance when he always saw me looking like a rag-a-muffin on Sundays when he came over to cook eggs.

Oh my God, tomorrow was Sunday, which was a big duh, because that day always came after Saturday, but tomorrow would be a different Sunday. It would be the first one after our date. Would we still be doing eggs? What if the date did end up turning into a tomorrow morning thing? I wasn’t naive. Cam could easily expect that this date was going to lead somewhere.

In my reflection, my eyes were unnaturally wide in the mirror and the mascara wand was dangerously close to my eyeball.

The date was so not leading to my bedroom because it looked like Old Navy had thrown up in there.

Okay. I was being stupid. Tomorrow would be no different than today. Tonight was not going to become a sex-fueled all-nighter for several reasons. And there was no reason for me to act like I had no idea that Sunday was the day after Saturday.

Finishing my little come to Jesus pep talk, I forced myself out of the bathroom. The nervous excitement humming through my veins wasn’t a bad feeling. It was quite… different, like a good kind of anxiousness. I was literally two seconds away from doing a little ass shaking jig in the middle of my living room when Cam showed up.

He stepped into my apartment, his gaze starting at the top of my head and making it all the way down to the pointy tips of my black boots. Amazing how a look could feel like a touch and I felt it in a way that put my earlier edginess to shame.

Cam cleared his throat. “You look… really, really great.”