“Hi. I'll have a coffee,” I tell the bored looking guy behind the counter.

He rolls his eyes and sighs heavily, inspecting his nails. “Americano, Latte, Misto, Mocha, Cappuccino, Macchiato or Espresso?”

I gulp nervously and take a step back. I have no idea what he just said. “Just coffee that tastes like coffee,” I squeak.

Dean, I've worked out from his name badge, quirks an eyebrow and slowly points to the corner of the store where a table’s set up with what I assume is a thermal coffee dispenser.

I try to smile at him. “Thanks,” I say, reaching into my pocket. “What do I owe you?”

He leans on his elbows and eyes me curiously. And then he scoffs. Right in my damn face. “That coffee tastes like burnt asshole. I'd pay you to drink it.”

“Nice. I'll think of that when I'm sipping on it.”

I sit on the opposite end of the room from computer guy and drink my burnt-asshole flavored coffee, which doesn't actually taste like burnt-asshole. It tastes like every other coffee I remember having.

Four cups later and I can no longer ignore my need to pee. I look around but there doesn't seem to be a bathroom here so I leave quietly and make my way back to the apartment—My apartment. I wait impatiently for the elevator and practically jump in when the doors open. I squeeze my legs together and do everything possible to avoid having to cup my privates. When the elevator doors open on my floor, I run to my apartment, rifling through the contents of my bag for my keys. “Fuck!”

A door opens.

“Madison?” Ky's standing in his doorway; arms at his side. “I was thinking-”

“Pee!”

“What?”

I push past him and run into his apartment. “I need to pee!”

6

KY

MADISON DROPS HER purse on the couch as soon as she enters my apartment and runs to the bathroom.

She's laughing.

She's on the toilet laughing.

And peeing.

I don't even know how I'm supposed to feel right now. “Madison?”

“Don't talk to me while I'm peeing!”

“O… Kay…” I chuckle, looking down at the contents of her purse, now spilled out onto the cushion. Quickly, I scan her stuff: Mace, a pocketknife, a kubaton, and a rape whistle.

Girl was prepared.

She starts laughing harder.

“Are you good?” I shout.

“I had to go so bad!” She opens the door and says, “Why is it that your bladder always seems to try to tip you over the edge just as you’re at your door. It's strange, right?”

“I think maybe you're strange, Madison,” I joke.

She freezes in her spot when she sees me standing over her stuff. Clearing her throat, she walks over to me and starts replacing the items in her bag.

“That’s a lot of protection you’re carrying.”

She ignores my remark and sits down on the couch, placing her bag on her lap. “For someone that doesn’t work, you’re not home often.”

I sit next to her. “You noticed?”

“What do you do?” she asks, ignoring me again.

I sigh, now realizing what it must be like for good old Cinnamon Aroma to have to deal with my evasiveness. “Not much. Gym and errands.” I grab the remote and turn the TV on, hoping to put an end to her questioning.

“What kind of errands?”

What am I supposed to say? Court ordered therapy? Undercover drug bust? I change the subject. “Where did you go anyway?”

She turns to face me, folding her leg under her. “Just to this coffee place a block away.”

“You meet up with a friend?”

“No. Just by myself.”

“But you said that you had to be somewhere and couldn't get out of it.”

Her face falls. Her smile completely wiped now. “I just…”

“Just…?”

“Um…” she starts to stand up but I grab her arm to stop her from moving.

Her gaze moves to the door, like she searching for a polite way to bail. I don’t want her to leave, so I say, “I’m bored. You want to get out of here?”

Her eyes widen. “What?”

“Yeah.” I stand up. “Let’s do something.”

“Like what?” she asks, her brow bunched.

“I don’t know. What do you want to do?”

Her gaze drops to her lap. “Do you...” she trails off.

“Do I what?”

“I’ve always wanted to go to dinner and a movie.”

“Like a date?”

She gasps quietly. “No. Not a date. Just—I don’t know. Maybe?” Her eyes flick to mine, the uncertainty in them clear.

“Wait. You’ve never gone to dinner and a movie?”

She shakes her head slowly—her eyes fixed on mine. “No.”

“So what do you on dates?”

“I’ve never dated,” she says slowly, each word more unsure than the last.

I just stare at her—too dumbstruck to speak.

“Can we go now?” she asks, her words rushed. “Never mind. Maybe—I’ll just go home.” She stands quickly.

I grab her hand. “Are you ready to go now?”

She smiles. “Let me change real quick.”

MADISON

Madison: So he asked me out.

Sara: Yeah? Are you going?

Madison: Yes… we're going to dinner and a movie.

I make my way around the room, changing clothes and shoes and putting on what little make-up I wear. My phone never leaves my hand. I squeeze it so tight my knuckles turn white. The phone—it's my lifeline. My security blanket. It's my past, and my future. And it's my only connection to the one person who truly knows me.

I sit on the edge of the bed and stare at it, waiting anxiously for a reply. The feeling of dread overshadows my excitement. Just as the tears start pooling in my eyes and I can no longer feel my heart's beat over it's slow, torturous break, the phone sounds with a text.

Sara: Good.

A knock on the door interrupts my reply, or at least my thoughts of how to reply. I have nothing. No words of comfort. Nothing.

“Maddy!” Ky yells, just as I stand. “Are you there?”

By the time I get to the door I can hear him laughing on the other side. “Yeah?” I yell back.

His laugh gets louder. “I don't know how long I should have waited before picking you up. What's the normal protocol on how long it takes a girl to get ready? Should I leave and come back? Or even better—you can let me in and you can change in front of me!”

My mouth drops open. It's still like that when I open the door to his sexy-as-sin smirk. I grab his arm and roughly pull him into the apartment. “Everyone can hear you!”

He chuckles. Then stops abruptly as he crosses his arms and scans me from head to toe. He gets to my bare feet and licks his lips. “I have a thing for short skirts and bare feet,” he mumbles. “You better cover them or we're gonna skip the date and stay in.”

I try to inhale, but the air is too thick and I choke. “You said you'd take me to dinner and a movie,” I squeak.