She closed the door, tired, while dropping her keys in the little table of the hall. Like every Friday, she had arrived at eight. That day, though, she would spend it cooking dinner. A very important one.
She dropped her bag on the sofa of the living room, happy and nervous, imagining how it would be that night. She had a date with whom had been her boyfriend for more than two years; they were going to have dinner at her home because since she had been promoted, they hadn't been seeing each other very much. She had to arrange everything in a special way because she wanted to make the next step and move in together, so she wished, above all, the dinner to be perfect.
Held up by a magnet, the recipe was at the door of the fridge, written on a piece of paper. She had asked to her mother in law for it.
She put on an apron and tied her hair up. Then, she removed the ring her boyfriend had given to her when they had had their first anniversary. She smiled remembering his face, nervous and blushing madly when he gave it to her. She cleaned her hands and took of the fridge the vegetables she needed, starting to clean them carefully. While doing it, she couldn't help a smile; it was the first time she wanted to move in with somebody so seriously and that made her feel a mixture of feelings she didn't know how to name. They reminded her the feeling of excitement and nervousness she felt the first day of college.
When she had chopped all the vegetables she put them in a pan to simmer and she checked the time: She had half an hour for showering; more than enough.
He opened the door of his apartment blindly, feeling the girl's lips and tongue on his neck, while her hands, carefully, made the gap between them disappear, rubbing her chest against his, feeling her heartbeats, making him speed up his breathing.
His mind seemed to be covered by a thick fog while he entered in his apartment and left his body act on its own, replying the hugs, touches and kisses that were starting to get more and more warm and wet, making his desire for her increase.
What had happened? Oh, yes, he had been sacked that evening... Who was that girl? He didn't know... And he didn't think he wanted to. Why were they at his apartment undressing each other? Why, even though he felt bad, didn't want her to stop? Why, even if he knew his girlfriend, whom he really loved, wasn't guilty, he felt envious of her? Why, while she succeded, he only felt a failure? He decided to forget that and focuse on the red haired girl laying on his sofa, still with the lights off.
She finished showering, feeling herself fresher and rested, and after having dried her hair and put her clothes on, she went back to the kitchen. The vegetables were cooked, she just had to get started with the meat. She didn't want to cook it yet, though, she would wait a little before ten o'clock so it would be warm when he arrived.
Her lips bended up, making her smile again. It had been hard to admit, but by now, she could say she was in love. She knew he wasn't perfect, but, Who was it? All in him seemed to be made exclusively for her. She chuckled at the memory of their friends when they announced they were dating. They had thought about keeping it in secret, but they felt they had to say it all just after imagining how it would be if their friends found everything out.
She had nothing to do, so she started setting up the table. Placing two candles, copying the photo of an interior design magazine, giving an impression of romance that wheasn't overdecorated.
After doing all that, she checked the time again: Quarter to ten.
- Want one? They're mentholated.- Asked the red haired girl after taking out a cigarette of the box that was in her nearly nonexistent shorts, which were badly lying on the floor.
- No.- He answered turning to the other side, finding the green numbers of the digital clock at the night stand; There were three minutes left before ten o'clock.
Ten o'clock... At ten o'clock... He had a date with her girlfriend at that time... At her house... He didn't want to go. He didn't want to go and see her face. It wasn't... It wasn't fair neither for her nor for him. Probably he would feel like shit while seeing her smiling like she always did, he would explain her he had been sacked, he would have to bear with her surprised face and her pity while she would try to make him feel better, saying he would find a job soon... And he didn't think he could endure it.
He got up and went to the living room while searching for his jeans and took out his phone. He went back to the room and found the red haired girl, of whom he didn't even knew the name, dressing up.
- I'm going now.- She said with the cigarette at her mouth.- I'm going back to the club. Want to come?
- No.- He rejected hoping her to go, impatient.
- Fine.- She smiled while walking to the exit of the apartment.- See you.
- I don't think so.- He answered nearly inaudibly while closing the door.
He sighed and went back to his room, laying on the bed only with his underwear on, without even getting between the sheets. Then, unlocking his phone, he started to taste the salt of his warm tears before sending a text message and falling asleep.
The meat was already done and the dishes were on the table.It was five minutes past ten o'clock. Maybe he had something important to do at the last minute, or maybe something had happened to him... No, probably he was on the doorstep, at any time the bell would ring and he would say he had been in a traffic jam even if she knew he had been playing a last game in his Xbox. But the minutes passed and no one came; the meat wasn't warm anymore, the candles melted the wax, wanting to collide with the tablecloth, and the smile of her face turned into an expression of fear and angst because of what was going to happen after that. She went to the kitchen to serve a glass of water and found her forgotten phone over a rag, it had the little light on, pointing she had received a message.