I tap my short heel against the floor as I wait, nerves coursing through me, making me warm in an uncomfortable way.
I don’t know how to calm myself down before a date.
I try to think what I’d tell somebody if they wrote into my blog.
I’d suggest that they steady their breathing, try to distract themselves and combat their negative thoughts.
There’s another example of why giving advice is so much easier than following it. Plenty of people have said my advice has changed their lives, helped them overcome problems, and helped them find perspective.
But I can’t seem to do that for myself.
I try to slow my breathing down, but that only makes me more conscious of my breath, triggering it to come faster. I try to distract myself, staring at the TV, but the colors blur until they become Preston.
The silver of his hair, the sharpness of his eyes, the firmness of his body.
My phone buzzes. Preston and I exchanged phone numbers when we arranged our date.
On my way.
I stand, my phone clutched tightly in my hand. My legs won’t let me stand still. I pace over to the window, looking down at the street, the sun has almost set. In less than thirty minutes, Preston’s car is going to be parked down there, next to the graffiti-covered walls.
Or he’s not. Or Lena’s going to step out. Or I’m being tricked.
Casey walks up beside me, softly placing her hand on my arm.
“It’s okay, sis. Just breathe.”
“How do you do it?” I ask.
“What… date?”
I nod. “I know what you’re supposed to do. Take it slow. Have fun. Don’t take it too seriously. But how do I fix this feeling, this… this hammering in my chest?”
“There’s no fixing it sometimes, Penny,” Casey says in an even tone. “Sometimes, you’re just going to be nervous. But don’t worry. I’m sure you’ll relax once—”
“Once I’m in the car with the handsome older man, the celebrity, the one who could have any woman he wants but has decided to go on a date with me instead?” I say, louder than I intended.
For the blog, I repeat in my mind. He wouldn’t be anywhere near me if it wasn’t for my blog.
“Point taken,” Casey says.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to yell.”
“You don’t have to apologize,” she says softly. “I know this is tough for you.”
I wrap my arms across my middle, staring down at the street. At some point, Casey leaves me and starts making herself some dinner. I find myself wincing every time a pot clatters.
I can’t focus. All I can think about is what will happen if I’m right and this is Lena or a test.
Even if Juliana is right and Lena can’t legally fire me, she might find a way, a workaround, an excuse to get rid of me.
And then Casey and I would be screwed.
I need my job. We won’t make rent without it.
Suddenly I’m on my phone again, my short conversation with Preston on my screen.
I’m sorry. I can’t do this. I need to cancel.
My thumb hovers over the send icon, as I debate sending the message into the world, ending this night before it even starts.
I throw my phone aside with a loud huff and drop down onto the couch. I sound melodramatic even to myself, but I can’t help it.
My chest rises and falls quickly, and a layer of sweat coats my skin, making me feel like I need another shower. But Preston is going to be here soon. I haven’t got time for another shower.
“You good, sis?” Casey appears at my side, frowning.
“I’m better than okay.” I try for a grin, but I feel it coming across as shaky. “I’m the best I’ve ever been. I’ve never felt more comfortable, more confident, or more ready to take on the world. I’m ready.”
Casey sits down next to me, touching my shoulder gently. “You don’t need to be sarcastic. It’s okay to be nervous.”
I laugh grimly, shaking my head. “Who said I was nervous?”
“Well, you, pretty much.” She echoes my laugh. “I promise, everything’s going to be okay. And remember what I said…”
I stifle a groan. This is unfair because she only wants the best for me. “If I get spooked, I’ll call you and you’ll come get me. Right?”
“And if you walk out there and see anybody other than Preston Packer is sitting behind the wheel of the car, you come right back up here. I don’t think anything suspicious is going on, honestly, but—”
“You can’t be too careful,” I cut in, smiling for real now, as I reference my sister’s favorite catchphrase from childhood.
She nods. “Exactly. Just because I’ve said it until I’m blue in the face, it doesn’t mean it’s not true.”
“I know you only want the best for me.”
“Always.” She squeezes my shoulder. “Anyway, I’m sure this is going to be great. I saw the way you lit up when you told me. I haven’t seen you that enthusiastic since you first started your blog.”