“Are you working tonight? Maybe I’ll run into you.”
I shook my head. “Not tonight, but I’m sure we’ll cross paths again.”
The sack crackled in his hand as he scooped it up. He stood and smiled. “Cross paths? I was thinking more along the lines of dinner and movie. Maybe not a movie. You can’t talk during a movie.”
“I hate when people talk during movies.”
“Me too,” he said. “I bet we hate a lot of the same things.”
“Sounds like a good time.”
“Doesn’t it?” He flashed his dimple again and then walked past me. The door chimed, and he continued down to the stoplight, turning the corner. Even though my forehead was pressed against the glass, I lost sight of him.
“Chicken fried rice and low-sodium soy,” Coco said, setting down the white sack with a red circle.
I rolled down the top of the sack and held it close, unable to stop smiling.
“Guess your bad day isn’t so bad?” Coco chirped.
I bit my lip, annoyed at how happy the last five minutes had just made me.
“Josh Avery,” Coco cooed. “I’d let him take my temperature, if you know what I mean.” I arched a brow, but she continued. “He lives three blocks down. I’m surprised you haven’t run into him here before.”
“How do you know where he lives?” I asked, still staring out the window, ignoring her crass comment. I couldn’t blame her. I’d seen countless women reduced to a puddle of mush in his presence.
“We deliver, Avery. Remember?” She sighed. “He’s cute. With all of that dark hair and the light eyes, he reminds me of the prince from The Little Mermaid. But, you know, beefier. Ooh, if you married him, you’d be Avery Avery.” She giggled and pulled at one of her tightly curled spirals. It bounced back into place.
“Marry him,” I muttered. “How absurd.” I stood and clutched the bag to my middle. A wide grin spread across my face, and despite the aches and pains from being tossed inside the Prius like a penny in a vacuum, the feeling lasted the rest of the day.
I gripped the paper sack in my fist as I jogged across the street, puddled water splashing over the toes of my sneakers. I didn’t have much time before my shift started, but I hadn’t slept at all last night and was dying for a few minutes of shut-eye.
I rubbed my empty hand mindlessly over my stomach as it growled in protest from skipping breakfast. I’d opted to spend my morning in the gym down on twenty-seventh instead of letting my imagination run wild with thoughts of Avery in the wreckage.
I took the stairs up to the second floor of my building two at a time, relishing in the burn of my calf muscles.
The key had just turned and the door had barely cracked open before Dax, my scraggly, sad excuse for a puppy, was jumping on my leg, clawing for attention.
I’d saved him from becoming another spot on the highway two weeks before. We had become fast friends, if I ignored the fact that he liked to piss on the kitchen floor more than a drunk frat guy.
“You want some lo mein, little man?” I tossed the bag on the counter before rummaging through the cupboard and grabbing two paper plates.
The bag crackled as I dug my hand inside and pulled out the single container of food, dividing it evenly before setting the extra plate on the ground.
Dax wasted no time pushing his brown nose into the plate, shoving the food onto the dingy linoleum.
“You’re welcome.” I stepped into the living room and sunk down on the secondhand love seat with a groan.