Lifetime

Not a Date

He held my hand for only a second as he greeted me, opening my door before getting in on his side.

"So where are we going?" I asked, a smile appearing on my face in response to his.

"I've got a few errands to run and thought we could do it together." He answered, a part of me wanting to text Faye to see if running errands counted as a date. We were quiet for a while, the radio playing softly in the background until his curiosity got the best of him. "What did Faye have to say about us seeing each other?"

I laughed at his question, at him knowing she'd have an opinion. "She said you're really amazing but that you get a lot of attention. I'm guessing that means from other women." I crossed my arms over my chest, a question of my own laced in my answer.

"She's not wrong, but I don't think you're the same as the women I get attention from." He responded. I was trying so hard not to read into his words or make assumptions about what he wanted with me, keeping Faye's warning in mind.

"I'm not?" I questioned anyway, unable to deny the enchanted feeling that came with his sentiment.

He shook his head, his reply giving me both nothing and everything all at once. "Not at all."

We pulled up to IKEA and he chose a space farther from the building, away from other patrons. He came around to open my door again and I was disappointed when he didn't hold my hand, keeping his tucked in his jacket pockets as we walked side by side.

He grabbed a bag and cart, pulling a small notebook and pen from his jacket pocket. "I just officially moved into my new place yesterday and it's still all boxes and totes. I'm hoping you can help me pick out furniture." He said, serious and difficult to read.

I reminded myself to let things be and enjoy myself, grabbing the notebook and pen from him as we walked through the entrance so I could jot down the codes for everything we selected.

I dragged him to food court as soon as we were inside, the alluring scent of meatballs pulling me across the store.  We sat on a bench together, sharing a plate and people watching so much that we started to make up stories of their lives. I swore that I wouldn't let him build a typical bachelor pad like the middle aged man in a suit, who I fantasized was looking to score with many women based on the intense conversation he had with a salesperson about ordering a circular shaped bed and giant shag rug. He whispered in my ear about a couple where one partner tugged the other through the building to their obvious annoyance, suspecting that he was only shopping or moving in with her to make up for a gigantic screw up. We laughed at the interaction of two men who obviously had very different design ideas, bickering over every item they picked out.  When we finished we headed to the showroom, walking through so he could point out styles that suited his taste. We had fun going back and forth to debate which items complimented each other better and tried out ten different beds before I teased him for asking my opinion again.

"A mattress is a very personal decision so it doesn't matter what I like." I laughed. We laid across one that was more soft than firm, sinking into the middle so much that the tips of our noses touched.

"Sure, but I think I should consider what you might like too." He replied, implying that he expected me to get some use out of it. I could practically feel the moment, certain that he would close the tiny space between our mouths, making the universe fade away again.

Instead, he rolled off the mattress in the opposite direction, embarrassment washing over me in response to thinking he was about to kiss me. I shook the feeling off, standing next to him as we continued our venture through the store, spending so much time in the showroom and marketplace that the sun was setting by the time we checked out.

He let me organize the few items he brought so that they sat neatly in his trunk, the rest set to be delivered in a few days. Our next stop was to the food market, where I occupied myself with pushing the cart while he shopped for groceries. He asked me about the food I liked most and dropped my favorite snacks into the basket against my protest. He made running errands feel more romantic than if he'd taken me to the fanciest restaurant in the city.

He wasn't wrong about his condo being empty, stacks of boxes littering the floor and a lone coffee table in the living area. I noticed he'd taken the time to set up a place for recording, his keyboard, speakers, microphone and workstation forming a makeshift studio in his home.

"I'll start on dinner. Can you pick out an album to play?" He motioned with his head toward a corner of the living room where a record player and four stacks of vinyl sat on the floor.

I sifted through the albums, appreciating his wide taste in music, and nearly squealed when I found a copy of Ready to Die, putting it on and starting to rap along. By the time "Gimmie the Loot" came in I could smell the food from the kitchen and I got up, seeing Yoongi bobbing his head to the music from where he stood over the stove.

"I can't believe you know this." He laughed as I stood beside him, continuing to spurt lyrics. He grabbed two beers from the refrigerator, offering me one.

"My dad had this album. I used to sneak and listen to it as a kid." I paused in the middle of "Machine Gun Funk," admiring the smile on his face as he mixed vegetables in a pan.

He joined in with me, pausing his cooking every now and again to turn around and rap with me, grinning as I danced around him and unable to resist bouncing his shoulders with me. We let the album continue playing as we ate at the coffee table and I had to remind myself to slow down as I scarfed down the fried rice and vegetables he made.

When we were finished eating and the album came to an end I washed the few dishes that were dirty before I would need to go back to my apartment. He leaned against the counter next to me, simultaneously drying a plate and staring at me to the point that it made me blush.

"What?" I asked, breaking the silence and letting my eyes meet his.

"Nothing, I was just thinking that I want to see you again." He responded as we finished up, handing me a paper towel to dry my hands.

The corners of my mouth pulled into a grin. "Already? I haven't even left yet." I teased, the counter and floor falling from existence as he tugged me by the waist so that we were flush against each other.

"Yes already. I don't know if you know this, but you're really dope." He affirmed, his hand reaching to cradle my neck. There went the cabinets, appliances, and building to his condo.

Even more than when we were on the mattress in IKEA, I was sure he was about to kiss me. We were just a breath away from the heavenly void of everything when he dropped his hand from my waist, his head moving back just slightly as he let me go with a sigh.

He looked away from me and down to his watch, quiet for a minute as he thought. "I should get you home." He noted, the sudden change in his mood making me think I'd been misreading it all, that he was never about to kiss me and that this definitely wasn't a date.