Relapse (Phan)

EIGHT

I kicked off my shoes the minute I stepped through the door to my apartment, dragging myself to my room and throwing myself down onto my bed. The cheap, old box springs creaked, barely holding onto life. I felt the same. It had been an insane day at work. On top of the usual Friday crowd, an old guy had brought in seven cases of donated records which had to be shuffled through. And, to top it all off, I couldn't have two seconds of peace without Paloma grilling me about every finite detail of my date the night before.

"It was good," I'd groaned, tiredly filing some dusty records under the proper artists.

"That's all the detail I get?" she asked, punching me in the arm.

"Don't you have work to do?" I huffed, irritated, "Or am I just your little filing slave?"

"Oh please!" she huffed, "Don't pretend to be the only one pulling weight around here, Mister. Will you please humor me?"

"What exactly do you want to know?" I rolled my eyes, knowing she was under just as much stress as I was.

"I don't know," she shrugged, "Anything. Was he sweet?"

"The sweetest," I reassured her, "He was a real gentlemen."

"That's nice," she smiled, "Are you gonna see him again?"

"Yeah," I felt the color rise in my cheeks, "His band's playing tomorrow and I said I would go."

"He's in a band?" Paloma raised her eyebrows.

"Don't give me that look."

"Ugh, don't act like being in a band isn't a total turn on," Paloma scolded playfully.

"Yeah okay," I admitted, a grin tugging at the corner of my mouth, "It is."

"Where are they playing?" she asked, leaning on the table next to me.

"Some bar somewhere I dunno," I said, "He's gonna pick me up."

"That's so cool!" she beamed, "You must be so excited!"

Excited. That was one word for it. Nervous. Petrified. Those were probably more accurate adjectives for how I was feeling about the situation. I don't know why it freaked me out so much! I hated bars: that was part of it for sure, but could that really be the only reason my stomach had been tying itself in knots all day?

I let out a long sigh. I knew the real reason I was a nervous wreck and it wasn't because of the bar scene.

Jason was perfect. He was so perfect. After two years of meaningless sex, I was unsure what a proper date would be like, but it had been wonderful. This wasn't just "getting back out there" or whatever they call it. I was falling for Jason. I was and no matter how much I tried to deny it I could feel myself falling for him hard and fast. Too hard, too fast. Every time Paloma mentioned him, I felt my heart rate quicken a little. Anytime he crossed my mind, my face got hot and my palms felt sweaty. I closed my eyes, remembering the way my entire body felt light as a feather when his eyes met mine and how I trembled as he held my hand. I tried to shake it off, but I couldn't. And that scared me.

What are you so afraid of? I asked myself. I really was beginning to wonder. Was I scared of moving too fast? Or was I afraid of moving on from Dan?

As if on cue, my phone buzzed in my pocket.

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