“Demi?”
“Jack?”
“Ryan,”I correct her.
“Oh.” She blushes.
We both stand there silently for a few seconds. I haven’t seen her sincethat night.
“You going to invite me in?”
“Of course,” she answers hastily then steps aside.
“Diamondgirl7736?” I ask.
“Yes.”
“Good, I was worried you were the maid or something. This place is great.” I look around the apartment. It’s probably the homiest place I’ve ever stepped foot in. And maybe the girliest. All the furniture is a distressed white. The couch is oversized and plushy. There are vases of fresh flowers everywhere and tons of pictures on the wall. It also has great natural light.
Demi is quiet as I walk around inspecting the living room.
“Is this weird?” I ask.
“Yes,” she answers then retracts. “No, I mean, it’s weird that I didn’t know it was you. Not weird that it is you. Does that make any sense?” She walks over and nervously fluffs one of the throw pillows on the couch.
“Well, I really like it. And I know we get along.” I smile suggestively.
“You’re interested?’
“Yes. Are you?”
“We’re still talking about the apartment, right?” she jokes.
“Yes.” I love Demi’s sense of humor.
“Do you want to see the rest of the place before you sign on the dotted line?”
“Definitely.”
Demi gives me the two-cent tour of the apartment. The kitchen is a good size and so is the bathroom. “This would be your room.” She opens a door just down from her bedroom.
It’s perfect. A blank canvas. No furniture or horrific wall color.
“I repainted it when my last roommate moved out. He was a gay guy who loved black and hot pink.” She makes a disgusted face. “I’ll torture you with pictures one day.”
“That bad, huh?”
“The. Worst.”
“So, I can do what I want with the room?” I ask.
“Pretty much. As long as there’s no shrine to weird gods or animal sacrifices done in there.”
I raise an eyebrow at her.
“This is New York.” She shrugs. “You never know.”
“I think you have a leg up on knowing me,” I insinuate.