Push(13)

I can see that he’s left all his tools here, and it makes me sigh with relief. It looks as if he is coming back to finish the kitchen after all, and that makes me feel very, very happy. I owe him one hell of a thank you.

Then I notice something sitting on the table. I walk over and see two water bottles and a pizza box with a note on top. I pick it up and read.





Emma—

Shit, girl, you do sleep like a fucking rock.

I’m glad you didn’t wake when my cell phone rang,

or when I got out of bed,

or when the door buzzer sounded,

or when we unloaded the delivery,

or when I went upstairs three times to get my tools,

or when the pizza delivery guy came.

But I’m especially glad you didn’t wake when I went back into your room and tried on all your panties—because that would have been embarrassing for us both. (They are pretty hot, by the way...but not so much on me.)

I figured you would be hungry when you woke up, and you can’t walk on the kitchen floor until tomorrow, so I took yet another liberty and ordered a pizza. You’ll notice my half is already gone. I thought you might not be reading this until tomorrow—you were pretty fucking tired.

And just so you know, I’m not coming by tomorrow because I have other plans, but my cell is 230-693-2261. I want you to call or text me if you need anything at any time. And DO NOT, UNDER ANY CIRCUMSTANCES, LET ANYONE INTO THIS APARTMENT BUILDING WITHOUT KNOWING WHO IT IS FIRST! Use your peephole for Christ-sake!

And promise me you’ll be especially careful if it is some other guy wearing a tool belt.

Good night (or good morning?), Emma.

David





Jesus. I read it again because I can’t believe his words. For whatever reason—or maybe a bunch of them—I am wearing a shit-eating grin when I finish. He isn’t completely freaked out about the Michael thing. And, I’m pretty damned sure that this is flirting and not mocking. Was that what he was doing this whole time, and I was just too busy being angry to see it? God, I hope he is kidding about seeing my panties.

I sit down and set to work on the pizza. It is cold but delicious. Rather than open a bottle of water, I get up and hunt in one of the kitchen boxes for a bottle of wine and the corkscrew. After a brief search, I find both. I fetch David’s coffee mug and pour out the dregs, rinsing it out in the bathroom sink and smiling at myself in the mirror.

Back at the table, I pour myself a hearty mug of wine and pick up my phone. I press the text messaging icon and type in David’s cell phone number.





Emma here. Thx for the pizza...and the rescue.





I press Send and go back to my wine and pizza. Before I can even take another sip, my phone buzzes.





U r welcome. U ok?





Yes. U?





Of course. That bastard is your stepdad?





Sadly, yes.





I wanted to beat the fuck out of him.





I wanted you to beat the fuck out of him.





Next time.





Please.





R u eating?





Yes. And drinking.





What?





Wine. In your mug.





Excellent.





What r u doing?





Hanging with friends.





Where?





Upstairs.





Have fun.





Lemme know if you need anything, anytime Emma. I mean it.





Ok.





I’ll call u tomorrow about Monday.





Me and my panties will b waiting.





I cannot believe what I just typed. Several seconds go by before my phone buzzes again.





I hope they r the light blue ones with the black lace...





Shit. I think maybe he did see my panties. I run back to my bedroom and open my underwear drawer. I can’t tell if they have been disturbed or not, but on top of the pile are a pair of light blue panties with black lace trim. This should piss me off. This should make my skin burn. This should make me want to punch him in the face. But it doesn’t.

Next thing I know, I am standing by my dresser quickly taking off all my clothes. I pull the light blue panties out of the drawer and slide them up my legs. Then I put on the matching bra and plump my breasts into the cups. I go to my closet to find my favorite dark green dress and drop it down over my head, smoothing it over my hips. I am not going to wear shoes. Then I go into the bathroom and brush my teeth and hair. I hastily put on eyeliner and mascara and more ChapStick. I raise my eyebrows at my reflection and wonder what the hell I am doing.

Before I can think any more about it, I am going upstairs in my bare feet. Two floors up. Right above mine. When I get to his door, I stop. Seriously, Emma. What the fuck are you doing? You’re nuts.

And then I hear the music coming out of his apartment. It is pounding and warped, and it sounds far more like “David music” than what I heard earlier. I don’t hear any voices, though, but maybe that’s because of the music. I take a deep breath and knock on the door. I wait, but no one answers, so I knock again, a little louder this time. Still, no answer.