Page 18 of Change of Plans

“Oh, yeah! I guess it is.” Theo smiled.

“Gilbert is obviouslyAnne of Green Gables,” I continued, “and Ramona, who actually came first and is married with a couple kids of her own now, is after all the Beverly Cleary books.”

“Well, your mom did a good job of giving you all interesting and memorable names,” Theo said with a smile, slowing down as we reached Glenside Ave and the moment when we’d have to split and go our own ways…or not.

“I’ll tell her you said so next time I talk to her,” I said.

“Thanks,” Theo said with a smirk.

We continued to stand there. I definitely had the sense that neither of us really wanted to part ways, but the more I stared at Theo and the way the light made his red hair look like it was burnished copper, the less I felt capable of saying anything sensible to either end the night or move it on.

“Hey, it’s nice out,” Theo finally broke the silence. “Do you want to walk around a bit more?”

“Absolutely,” I breathed out, glad he’d said something.

“Great.”

We turned onto Glenside Ave and kept walking, right past the row of shops that ended with Common Grounds and the empty lot beside it, which was actually looking marginally tidier. That probably had something to do with the guy who had come into the café earlier in the week and spoken to Gilbert.

I didn’t want to be reminded that something was about to happen with that lot, though. I got anxious just thinking about any potential construction. I wanted to give my full focus to Theo and see where our date might lead.

Because I had the feeling as we continued down the street toward some of the old, early twentieth-century houses that I knew had been converted into apartments that Theo knew exactly where he was going.

My suspicions were confirmed when he slowed down in front of one of those houses.

“Um, this is where I live,” he said, the last light of sunset making his features seem softer and somehow more beautiful. “You wouldn’t by any chance want to, maybe, I don’t know, come up?”

I sucked in a quick breath, excited that things were actually going the way I’d hoped they’d go. “I’d love to,” I said, breathing out again and reaching for his hand.

“Cool. Great,” Theo said, blushing up a storm. “Right this way, then.”

He took my hand and led me around the side of the house to a back entrance that I guessed would take us to an upstairs apartment. Everything was falling into place, and I couldn’t have been happier.

CHAPTER 6

Theo

Ideserved some sort of gold star for getting over myself and inviting Diccon up to my apartment. But why not? The evening had been spectacular so far. Diccon was so sunny and easy to talk to. We had more in common than I would have thought, which was thrilling. I could have sat there in the restaurant with the weird name all night or walked all over Glenside with him and not run out of things to talk about, but as soon as I started getting green light signals, I knew where I wanted the night to end.

“Wow,” Diccon said, looking around my apartment as soon as we were inside. “This place looks exactly like where I imagined you would live.”

“Is that a good thing?” I asked, worry tying my stomach in knots. Maybe I shouldn’t have had so much wine with my supper. Not that I’d had much. Or maybe I should have had more. I wasn’t good in these sorts of situations, where I really wanted a guy, but I wished I was.

Diccon made it to the center of the main room and turned in a circle, looking around. “Honestly, a lot of guys our age don’t know the first thing about decorating or maintaining a space. Bare walls and thrift store furniture and all. But this place looks amazing.”

I let out a breath, though the expectant energy I’d been carrying with me since Closed Mondays, since I’d found the courage to ask Diccon out the other morning, really, was still there. “Architecture is my passion,” I explained, “but interior design kind of goes hand in hand with that. What’s the point of having a well-designed building if you mess it up with cheap, mismatched décor, or nothing at all?”

“I totally agree with that,” Diccon said, glancing around at the furniture and walls. “And you said you didn’t understand eclectic art.”

“Making sure the couch has a few throw pillows on it is miles away from creating art out of bike parts and garden tools,” I said, maybe making a joke. I was so bad at joking that the comment could have been a complete flop.

Diccon’s gaze dragged away from the painting by a local artist I had on my wall and met mine. His smile wasn’t just contagious; it was a whole pandemic of brilliance and lust. I felt it all the way down into my core.

“Maybe we should test your couch and throw pillows out to make sure they’re functional,” he said, a twinkle in his eyes.

I grinned, taking a step closer to him. “Maybe we should.” I was breathless and my insides swirled, but for once, it wasn’t out of fear that everything would fall apart. Every instinct within me said things were just about to come together.

“I definitely think we should,” Diccon said, lowering his voice as he came close enough to reach for me.