15
It was about five-thirty when I got to Ellen's place. I figured that was a safe time since it seemed to be when most people ate dinner. I could smell food as soon as I walked in. It smelled like frying beef, which was one of the best scents in the world.
I almost expected her to be a bit dressed up for our “date,” if that's even what it was, but she was wearing tight jeans with a short-sleeved T-shirt, a V-neck that revealed the perfect amount of cleavage. For a brief moment, I thought she may have worn it for my benefit, then realized it was a stupid thought. It was probably something she just threw on that morning.
“Sorry, dinner's not ready yet. I wasn't sure what time you'd get here.” She was walking back into the kitchen as she spoke.
“No problem. I didn't know what time I was
