jason
I’d showered twice.
The first time didn’t count because I’d gotten out and immediately decided I smelled wrong. Too much soap. Not enough. I didn’t know. I just knew it wasn’t right.
The second shower lasted until the water went lukewarm and my skin turned pink.
Now I was pacing.
I’d put on jeans. Nice ones. The dark ones that fit well. A button-down I’d ironed badly but ironed nonetheless. I’d looked at myself in the mirror and felt like an idiot trying too hard.
So I’d changed.
Sweatpants. Hoodie. The usual. Casual. Like this was nothing. Like I wasn’t about to combust from my own nervous system running too hot.
I stared at the sweatpants and second-guessed everything again.
Peanut watched me from the bed, head tilted, judging.
“Don’t look at me like that,” I muttered.
He huffed and settled his chin on his paws.
I checked my phone. Twenty minutes until Bennet was supposed to show up. Maybe I should change again. Maybe the nice clothes sent the right message. Maybe the sweatpants made it look like I didn’t care when I cared so much my ribs hurt.
I dropped to the floor and started doing push-ups.
Thirty. Forty. My shoulders burned. My chest pumped up, muscles filling with blood, skin flushed. I stood and checked myself in the mirror.
Better. I looked better.
Then I caught my own eye and realized what I’d just done.
“You’re an idiot,” I told my reflection.
I dropped and did twenty more anyway.
By the time I heard footsteps in the hallway, my heart was already pounding for reasons that had nothing to do with exercise. I wiped my palms on my sweatpants and tried to breathe normally.
A knock.
Soft. Tentative.
I froze.
Maybe I should’ve worn the nice clothes. Maybe this was a mistake. Maybe…ah, dammit.
I crossed the room and opened the door before I could spiral any further.
Bennet stood there, backpack hanging from one shoulder, and I forgot how to think.
He’d dressed up.
He wore a fitted shirt, crisp and white, with thin gray stripes running vertically. Suspenders. Dark blue, clipped neatly to gray slacks that tapered at his ankles. Long socks. Polished shoes.
His hair was combed but already falling into his eyes. His glasses caught the hallway light.
He looked incredible.