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Again, deep breaths. And stop fucking with your hair, it’s fine man.

Ding went the elevator chime, and I snapped my eyes so fast at the display to double-check that I had the floor, cause that was a surprisingly short journey up to her floor.

But no, the ding ding-ed right, and as my wiggly reflection on the silver doors parted away to reveal the long stretchy corridor leading to her unit... I just... it was just... wow... was this how marching up to the gallows felt like back in the good old days? This numbness in my legs? This surreal sensation warping the walls?

Averting a biblical rain of rot felt less intense than this... how the hell do the other boyfriends do it?

Ah, just breathe... you’re forgetting to breathe. You’ve gone through worse, you’ll survive her parents.

With invisible chains clamped on my ankles, I slowly began dragging myself through the valley of shadows, sifting the deep of the darkness, the murky unknown, until I finally found myself staring blankly at her door.

.....

Light knocks, remember. Don’t show your nervousness. You’re supposed to be cool here. Be cool.

I gave it my best shot, in microseconds calculating the force-to-momentum ratio, resulting in a solid eight out of ten knock to announce my arrival. Not too shabby.

Afterward came the silent downtime while you stand around waiting to be let in, and as it so happens it was also the perfect breeding ground for nightmare scenarios compilations to start cropping up in your head because for some stupid, evolutionary reason, the brain just loves sabotaging you at the most crucial moments.

For a moment longer than I was comfortable with, the door remained shut... and just as I was considering bumping that eight into a firmer nine, there was the rattle of a lock, the distinct sound of fumbling with the doorknob, and with a slow, shrill squeak, the big slab of wood in front of me began to swing inward.

I spent the entire bike ride here tempering my nerves and stamping out any signs of meekness. I was so ready to be the smooth, suave operator, unfazed by any and all kinds of obstacles thrown my way. But it turns out, for all my planning against the unknown and unexpected, I had completely forgotten to consider her.

Amanda was simply and utterly radiant.

And by that, I don’t mean in the sense that her beauty was absolutely too complex and profound to be put into words... see, the stylish, trendy Amanda was an eye candy I was already quite accustomed to seeing and appreciating. Every time I’d see her, without fail she would always be wearing something frilly, fancy, hippy, or some varied appealing version of all three that would be beyond my comprehension.

But here, now, it was the total opposite of that. She was wearing different.

Amanda was wearing simple.

There she stood on the other side of the now opened doorway, no gloss to her lips, no flush to her cheeks, wearing nothing but a long, red turtleneck sweater that fell all the way down to her knees. She looked comfy, cozy... and quite cotton-y

Simplicity at its most radiant.

My preference for ponytails probably played a part in amplifying the effect, and she wore hers, bright blonde and braided, like a queen to her crown.

“Hey, wow, hey...” She had a lovely smile on too as she spoke, one that kinda felt rather subdued by her standards. And it seems I wasn’t the only one caught by surprise, her eyes scouring up and down for a moment, before she next said anything. “You’re, uh... you’re here a little early, aren’t you?”

Hearing that, I managed to quickly dig out the wedge lodged in my throat, replying, “Early’s good, right? Your own words.”

“Ah, yeah. I... I guess I did say that, didn’t I? Lapse of stupidity, ignore that,” She chuckled, but once again, it wasn’t a laughter up to normal standards. “Alright, I think you’ve blessed my doorstep for long enough. Inside with you already. ”

She stepped off to the side, leaving just enough room for me to squeeze on through. I grazed her a little walking in, and I could almost swear I felt her jump a little as I did.

But then I smelled something delicious wafting and my attention drifted over toward her kitchen instead, where a number of pots and pans sat simmering and steaming in a heavenly fusion of aromas.

Guess now I know why she took some time to answer...

“Okay, this might be a problem...” I muttered, feeling my mouth begging to water. “Gonna be hard making conversation when I’ll be too busy stuffing my face in. Hey, think your Dad would disapprove if...?”

Slam, rattle, came the reverberating echo of her door closing shut. I whirled back at Amanda, finding her with her back pressed firmly against the surface.

“You doing alright?” I asked, mildly concerned now.

“Hmm?” Amanda flicked her towards me as if only just hearing me. “Yeah, of course... just fine and dandy, that’s me.”

“You sure? You seem a little...”

“Jittery?” She formed another smile. “Can you really blame me?”

That one question, that look on her face... and I don’t think I could empathize with her any more than I do now even if I tried.

“Well, as far as nervous wrecks go... I gotta say you’re probably the cutest I’ve seen so far.”

She broke away from her front door, looking slightly cheerier than she did a moment prior.

“I’m nervous, I’m excited, I’m terrified, I’m a mess...” quickly she then darted her gaze to the thick waft of smoke coming from the kitchen, and instantly, her priorities shifted. “One sec...”

I followed along after her, reaching for a nearby spatula. “Your dad likes a diligent cook, right? I’ll help-”

“No, you’re not,” faster on the draw, she swiped it away from my reach, brandishing it squarely at me instead. “Your job, for the time being, is to plant yourself on the couch and be a good little handsome boy for me, alright?”

“But-”

“Shush!” She jutted the spatula a little more forward. “You’ve been working, acting, and drinking. Not necessarily in that order. You’ve done enough. I want you to rest, make yourself at home... I’ll be with you soon. Now go.”

Knowing better than to protest with a person wielding a weapon, I waved the white flag and spoke no longer.

“Lamb’s my only weakness, just can’t seem to get it right...” Amanda muttered to herself, putting on an apron that had laid crumpled in one corner of the kitchen. “Taste a little sour still though, a little peppery and... and... what are you staring at?”

I blinked, both eyes intently and intensely admiring how something so trivial as a white piece of cloth could look so good on her.

“You’re gonna wear that all night?” I asked. “Fingers crossed.”

Amanda faintly snorted, hiding the flush in her cheeks as she turned towards the stove. “Sit. Rest. You’re distracting me.”

“Sorry, you said something?” I blinked back up at her. “Got distracted there.”

She sighed and shook her head, but no made no clear attempt to try and discourage me. If anything, it looks as if she was eagerly keeping an ear out for more... but I suppose she was right... should probably stop pestering her now.

Her couch was as soft as it’s ever been the last time I was here, and much in the same way, everything else was just as it has been way back when.

Memorabilia high on the shelves, awards and trophies encased behind glass cabinets, her computer monitor glowing idly in the distance displaying a half-finished essay splashed across the pixels while her streaming equipment sat strewn and scattered across the desktop, and a quick glance at my phone revealed that she had been streaming not even an hour ago.

Smart, ambitious, and popular. In this brimming world of ours, Amanda felt like a sunflower in a garden of weeds. Her qualities, every aspect of her, all the things that were practically the anti-me. Which begs the question... what would her parents think if they knew their daughter was dating her polar opposite?

Not too well, I don’t think. Then again, that might just be the apprehension speaking. Probably was, wasn’t it? C’mon deep breaths. You’re better than this.

Roughly fifteen minutes had passed, and Amanda had finally finished prepping the last of tonight’s feast, throwing down her apron with a proud yet exhausted sigh.

“Looks good,” I remark, looking over from the back of her couch. “Good enough that I wish your parents would come knocking right about now.”

Pulling off her mittens, Amanda glanced at me with a raised brow. “Do you though?”

“Maybe, depends... give me another five minutes with this smell... I’ll probably call them here myself by then.”

She was wordless as she took out a bottle from the fridge, still silent carrying two mugs from a cabinet. It was only after plopping down next to me, and propping all three items on the coffee table, that she finally found her voice.

“Actually...” She slowly began, and at once I saw red flags fluttering in my head. “They called a while earlier. Like five minutes before you came.”

“Oh?” I blankly said. “And?”

“Well, let’s just say you’re early...” She scrunched up her eyes. “Like a whole day early, give or take.”

“What?”

“Yeah, things happen. Turns out they aren’t going to be able to make it tonight,” Amanda sighed again. “Mom said the best-case scenario would be them arriving tomorrow night instead.”

I could feel my lips slowly parting open with disbelief. “But... you already cooked...”

“Exactly!” She flailed her arms. “I already started cooking way before they called... can’t just toss it out in the trash, can I? What choice do I have? I wanted to call you to not come as well, but... well... you were already here... so... yeah. Oops.”

Seriously, I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. I got myself all worked up, aged like a couple of decades just getting here, and now that I am here... turns out, I didn’t have to be here.

I sagged into the squishiness of her couch, sagging my shoulders, and tossing a hand out into the air.

“Okay, then...” I glanced back at her, my head at a loss for any sense of direction. “Now what do we do?”

“Well, since we’re already here, anyway... ” For an answer, Amanda took the bottle from the table, and gave it a little shake at me all the while showing a little impish smile. “...wine?”