Lockdown | Conor Mason

Electricity

I let out a frustrated sigh, pulled my shirt off and dropped it on the growing pile on my bed, pressed the heels of my hands to my eyes.

After a moment I pulled them away. When the white spots cleared from my vision, I studied myself in the full-length mirror.

I sighed again. I didn't like what I saw. Black bralette, light-wash jeans, white socks...and no shirt in my wardrobe could please me today. I felt like a frump. A tiny, plain, frumpy girl who didn't know how to dress.

I rolled my eyes at myself. What was I so fucking worked up for, anyway? It was just a neighborly visit. Just dinner. No big deal.

I felt the flush rise to my cheeks even before I saw them turn red in the mirror. Who was I fooling. It wasn't just dinner, just a neighborly visit. It was...well, it was Conor.

When my COVID result had arrived, I hadn't even texted my mom first, or my sister. No. I'd texted him.

Joining you in the negative club, woohoo!

I knew it was lame even as I pressed "send". I saw the three little dots appear. I held my breath. They disappeared.

And then...nothing.

I shook my head and laughed. I'd let my imagination run away with me. What did I expect? He'd be waiting around for my text, so he could run over and snog me?

I'd made myself put the phone down, and had been heading for the bathroom, ready to treat myself to a nice long shower, when the knock came.

I'd jumped at the noise, then my heart jumped into my throat. It couldn't be. ...Could it?

When I swung the door open, Conor stood on the doorstep, respectfully a few steps back. His face was happy, but unreadable.

"Congratulations, you're negative!" he'd said. He almost sounded out of breath, like he'd been running.

"Yeah, thanks..." My throat had clenched. He was wearing the sweatshirt I'd gotten him, which fit him perfectly in his signature baggy sort of way. It made my heart nearly stop.

My eyes drifted down his body of their own accord, and before I could snap them back up he spoke.

"Is this ok? I just thought, since we're both negative and all..."

I refocused and realized he was holding a mask in his hand. I blinked, not comprehending this completely foreign moment.

"It's ok, I can put it on, no worries..."

"No," I said forcefully, more forcefully than I intended. He started, but then smiled as I pulled my own mask off. "It's ok."

"Great, much nicer, isn't it? Now I can see your lovely face. Um, so yeah, I just..." He stammered, cleared his throat, wondering if he'd said too much.

A swarm of butterflies took flight in my chest. "Yes, much much nicer." His face split into a relieved smile.

"So I thought, well, since we're both in the clear, are you...I mean, would you be comfortable...ah fuck." He laughed, a silly, nervous laugh. I grinned, feeling a rush of affection.

I didn't speak, but took a step toward him into the hall, breaking the two-meter rule. His eyes grew wider, flicked down to my lips and back up again. We were still arms'-length apart, but in this crazy world, it felt as intimate as touching.

His eyes fixed on mine.

"I wondered," he'd said finally, his voice low but even, "if you'd like to come for dinner? I promise I'm better at cooking now."