“I know, right?” I said with conviction.
He reached out for a handshake, the whole time never taking his eyes off mine. “Maybe we both have familiar faces.”
“Like, average faces?” I asked.
“Yours is anything but average.” I felt that same pull again. I let him shake my hand for an unusually long time while he continued studying me. He turned it over, palm up, and ran his index finger across it. “Long life line,” he said.
“Thanks. I think.” If he wasn’t so adorable and if I wasn’t feeling the magnetism so fiercely, I’m sure my subconscious would have been screaming, Is this guy a serial killer?
Helen yawned audibly and I realized Adam and I were just standing there, staring at each other in a trance.
“Bye, Adam,” I whispered.
His kind eyes crinkled. “Bye, Charlotte.”
I swallowed and pulled my hand out of his. After he turned to head down the street, Helen said, “What on earth was that?”
“What do you mean?” I was still blinking out of my trancelike state.
“He could have impregnated you with that look.”
I jogged up the stairs to our apartment. “Yeah, he was kinda . . .”
“Hot!” Helen blurted.
I was going to say strange, even though I liked that about him.
She went on. “Did you see the way he looked at the mural?”
“Yeah, I thought it was sweet.”
Helen stood near the door, waiting for me to unlock it. “You should have asked him out. I would have been all over that guy if he looked at me like that.”
“Too late, I guess.”
Once inside, Helen hopped up on the countertop, which sat in front of the sliding glass door that led to a small balcony overlooking the front of our building. She tore open the Chinese takeout box and began eating directly from it with the chopsticks Adam had given her.
“I can’t believe you’re eating that,” I said from the couch.
“It’s delicious!” she mumbled through a mouthful of noodles.
I rested my head against the back of the couch, closed my eyes, and yawned. “I think I’m gonna go to bed.”
“Oh my god!”
“What?” I turned around quickly.
“Look, look, there he is!” Helen was pointing toward the sliding glass door.
I popped up, slid the door open, and ran out onto the balcony. From our second-story apartment you could see all the way down to the corner, to where Adam was standing stock-still, gazing up at the street sign.
“What’s he doing?” Helen asked, joining me on the balcony.
“I think he’s lost.”
“Should we help him?”
“Adam?” I called out. He turned around and began shuffling toward our building.
“Now you can get his number,” Helen said under her breath.
“Look at him, he has no idea where he is,” I said.
“Maybe this is some weird act.”
“Adam? Are you okay?” I shouted
“Yeah. I haven’t lived here that long and I forgot my phone.” He was looking up at us from the street.
Helen leaned into me. “Help him. Let him use your phone.”
“I’ll come down and help you,” I said.
As I was walking toward the door, Helen followed me out. “Tell him he can use your phone in exchange for a kiss.”
“Not if you’re going to be watching us from the window, weirdo.”
I don’t know what changed inside of me; maybe it was his sweet smile as he stared up at me like a lost puppy while clutching his Chinese food, or maybe I was tired of always being the one to sit back and watch.
His eyes were wide when I met him on the stairs in front of the building. I held my phone out. “You want to punch your address into the GPS?”
Taking it from my hands he said, “Yeah, thanks so much.”
“Sure.” He handed me the Chinese food to hold as he read an address off his palm and plugged it into the maps app on my phone.
“So you’re brand-new to the area?” I asked.
“Uh huh, yeah . . . sorta. Okay, left, left, right three blocks, left, then right. Left, left, right three, then left, right.” He was studying the screen.
“You live right by Bar Kenner, in those brick lofts?”
He gave me a thumbs-up. “You got it.”
I raised an eyebrow. Those were very expensive lofts. “That’s pretty close,” I said.
“You go there? Bar Kenner?” he asked.
“Yeah, Helen and I go there after work sometimes.”
He smiled when he noticed I was staring at his mouth. “You want to go there and get a drink?”
Oh my god, he’s asking me out. Be cool. “Sure. When?”
“Right now?” He shrugged, revealing his dimples again. “Life’s short.”
I took my phone back and looked at the time. It was eleven thirty. “It’s kinda late.”
Coward! I shouted inwardly.
“Go ahead! Go!” came a voice from above. No, it wasn’t God; it was Helen, standing on the balcony—eavesdropping, of course.
“I’ll sweeten the deal and let you have some of my cold kung pao chicken.”
“That’s very enticing,” I said.
“I mean, I understand if you can’t,” he said, picking up on my hesitation. “It’s late. Rain check?”
“Go with him!” Helen shouted.
“Sure. Do you want my number?”
He looked around and shoved his hands into his pockets like he was searching for a pen but coming up short. That’s when I made the decision.
“Screw it. Let’s get a drink now. Wait here, I need to grab a sweater.”
“I’ll be here,” he said.
I ran back to the apartment, a huge smile on my face.
3. Soul Affinity
I took the stairs two at a time and burst through the door. Helen was waiting for me. “He’s precious, all doe-eyed and unassuming,” she said. I ran around searching for a sweater while she continued talking. “He must have a decent job; he’s wearing a Tag watch, and those lofts near Bar Kenner are super expensive.”
“The watch doesn’t exactly fit his style. Maybe it was a gift?”
“He was just running out for takeout.” She braced my shoulders, stopping me from spinning in circles. “Don’t be standoffish. This guy seems nice. Plus he’s hot. Did I mention that?”
“Why do you and my brother insist on bringing up how standoffish I am?”
“Because you have a pretty bad track record. It’s time to change that. Just go have a drink with him and be chill.”
“It’s late and he’s a stranger. We just met on the street. Am I not allowed to be a little nervous?”
“Text every five minutes if that makes you feel better. I’ll stay up. Besides, it’s only two blocks away and you’ll be in public. You’ve done way shadier stuff than this. Remember when you met that guy at the Museum of Death?”
“Ugh, don’t remind me.”
“Wasn’t he wearing a dog collar?”
I was still rummaging through my closet for the perfect sweater, trying to ignore Helen. “Yes, yes he was.”
“What was the thing about his name?”
I laughed. “He told me his name was Atticus Danger and then I saw his ID; it said Albert Davis. Part of the skull and bones tattoo on his forearm rubbed off when I spilled my margarita on him at dinner.”
“And you’re worried about this guy? Just take an Uber if he creeps you out that bad.”