✽ Mandy ✽
I sat in David’s car outside Hawthorne House with my hand on the door handle, waiting for my legs to stop feeling shaky. The night had been fine. He had been polite. He had paid. Nothing had actually gone wrong.
Still, my skin felt too tight.
David leaned over the center console and smiled.
“You sure you are ok?” he asked.
“I am ok,” I said, because saying anything else would have opened a door I couldn’t close. “Still, just feeling tired,” David brushed his thumb over my knuckles.
“I had a good time,” he said. “I want to see you again,”
“I do too,” I replied, and I meant it. I liked him. I liked that he listened when I talked about pastry school. I liked that he made plans like the future could be simple. He glanced up at the building, then back to me.
“We could go up
