"No. I didn't always know. The first night," he says. "While we were eating takeout you said something about an ex in finance, which could have been one of ten thousand guys in this city. But then you mentioned being from Iowa and a few other things and it all fell into place."
"Why wouldn't you just tell me that?" I'm incredulous.
"Because you'd made some comments about the kind of guys Brad associated with and I didn't want you to write me off before you gave me a chance. I thought you'd walk out the door if I told you then. Also, to be fair, you were half naked at the time and I might not have been thinking rationally."
"You're so stupid."
"Agreed."
"Okay." I sigh. We've reached his apartment and we pause in front of the door and stare at each other. "Let's go fuck this out."
“Seriously?”
“Yes.”
“You really are too good to me.”
“Agreed. Now unlock the door.”
***
We're both laughing when he unlocks the door and kicks it shut behind us, pausing only long enough to flip the deadbolt before he's jogging up the stairs behind me. It's not our first date, we're civilized fuckers now. Which basically means anywhere except the staircase. Because have you ever on a staircase? His stairs are wood, which doesn't help. Not that carpet would help much because rug burns are no joke, especially in the summer when you want to wear a knee-length dress to work the next day.
"I've got something for you," he says when we reach the top of the stairs. "I've been waiting all night to give it to you."
"I know, I've been waiting all night to get it," I agree with a glance at his pants.
"Clearly I'm the romantic in this relationship, you little pervert," he says with a shake of his head as he drops my weekend bag on his dining room table. A table that seats six that we've never eaten at. I love the wide-open lofty feel of his place. It's relaxing and makes me feel like I can unwind. Like I can spread out in the middle of a city that's overcrowded, when I'm normally forced to squeeze myself in.
"Table sex?" I ask, because we've never done that.
"No," he retorts with a snort then pauses. "Well, maybe. Let's not discount that. But first," he says, handing me a small box that must have been waiting on the dining table.
I take it from him and examine it in my hands. It's about the size of a pack of gum, but thicker. It’s cardboard with a twine string wrapped around it and fastened under a little disk attached to the top. It's not fancy—urban hip, maybe. I flick my eyes up to his and then back to the box in my hands.
"It's not my birthday either," I point out.
"Open it," he urges.
I unwrap the twine and the cardboard unfolds to reveal another cardboard box, this one with corrugated edges and a top flap that slides out to open. I run my fingers over the edges for a second, enjoying the way the material feels under my fingertips and enjoying the sweet moment.
Then I slide the top flap open and look inside, confused for a moment about what I'm looking at. It's a fortune, like from a fortune cookie. But it's inside of a small glass-fronted box. "Is this—" I begin to ask as I pull it from the box and the chain dangles free. "It's a necklace," I coo. It's gorgeous, the slimmest rose-gold box dangling from a matching chain. I pull it closer to read what's written on the paper. It is a fortune—I was right about that. It says, Don't be afraid to smile. You never know who's falling in love with it.
"Max." I grin. "I love it." I slide it over my head, the chain long enough to allow me to put it on without unclasping it. Once it's on I finger the locket between my fingers and look up at Max with a smile so big I bite my lip to try to contain it. "Thank you."
"You're welcome."
"Is this the fortune you wouldn't read to me that night? On our first date?"
He nods.
"Because you already loved my smile? Even then?"
"Because I already knew I could love you, even then."
"You did?" I ask.
"I do," he corrects. "Love you."
"I didn't," I say with an almost imperceptible shake of my head. "I didn't know it yet then. But I do now. Well, I knew a while ago. I think technically you got to me while we were eating food from a street vendor. You were—" I don't get to finish that thought because sex is apparently back on the table. Literally. My ass is on the table and my dress is being lifted over my head.
"No," Max says, pulling away from me. His lips were just on mine and I lean forward as he pulls back as if I can drag him back to my lips by sheer force of will.
"No?" He's such a fucking tease, this guy.