Abby followed him up the front steps, his pace less hurried than the first time. The front door opened into the living room. College guys definitely lived here. It was comfortable enough, but mostly utilitarian, with no concern for décor. A large flat screen TV dominated the wall to the right, with wires, gaming consoles, and controllers in a jumble around the small entertainment center. Battered and mismatched furniture completed the room, looking like hand me downs or thrift store finds. There were no pictures on the walls, and the curtains covering the large bay window had either come with the house or were hand-me-downs from someone’s mom.
Lance opened a door to the left of the TV. “This is my room.” He reached in and turned on the light. “You can change in here.”
“Okay. Thanks.”
The comfortable and utilitarian theme extended into the bedroom, with a queen-sized bed, a nightstand, a dresser, and a bookshelf crammed with books the only furniture. Discarded clothes littered the floor between the bed and the door to the bathroom.
Abby went into the small bathroom. It was surprisingly clean from what she knew of college guys’ bathrooms. No globs of toothpaste left in the sink, and only a few items on the small counter—hand soap, deodorant, shaving cream, aftershave lotion, and a razor. The soap sat on the edge of the sink, the other items clustered neatly in the corner next to the wall.
Abby stripped off her tank top, dropping it on the floor. She grabbed a washcloth from a pile of mismatched towels under the sink, got a corner of it wet, and wiped up the soda that had seeped through her shirt. She slipped Lance’s T-shirt on and looked at herself in the mirror.
She snorted when she saw the Superman logo in the middle of her chest. Well, somewhat below the middle of her chest, because the shirt swallowed her. The shoulder seams came almost halfway down her upper arms, and the shirt covered her shorts.
She tried pulling the shirt tight around her torso, twisting the extra fabric behind her and tucking it in at the small of her back. She’d seen other girls do that and look cute. On her, she thought it just looked silly. She fidgeted with the shirt some more, folding here, tucking there, trying different things so she didn’t look like a toddler wearing her dad’s clothes. With a huff of annoyance, she gave up and let the shirt hang loose.
“It’s not like I’m trying to impress anyone.” Abby reached up and redid her ponytail as she talked to herself in the mirror. “I’ve already dumped soda over both of us and treated the guy to a personal wet T-shirt contest. Worrying about making a good impression on the hot guy sort of went out the window already.”
With that little pep talk, Abby went back out. Lance looked up from his phone and smiled at her. He stood up from the couch. “Ready?”
“Sure.”
Lance opened the door and gestured Abby through, locking it behind him. He jogged to catch up to her to open the car door before she got in.
Abby gave him a confused look. What was with this guy and his insistence on opening doors? She’d agreed to get dessert with him, but it wasn’t like this was a date. He was just bored and didn’t want to be home yet. That’s what he’d said. That didn’t make this a date, right?
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