In a series of half-fulfilled intentions, she paced her apartment, aligning picture frames and knickknacks, picking up books and magazines only to circle the coffee table and return them to their original positions. Emotions flitted through her, no single thought taking hold for long. Anxiety and hope and terror and euphoria. An intensity she hadn’t felt in…a year. Or ten. Maybe forever.

Her hands shook. She scrubbed her palms against the denim of her jeans, then pounced on a stray pencil attempting to sneak between couch cushions.

The sound of his knock may as well have been a gunshot. She jumped, dropping the pencil. Jim. Jim was at her door. Pencil forgotten, she dashed toward the door. Jim, here, for a date. Nervous, excited laughter started to bubble through her. She paused in the entryway, slapping a hand over her mouth. No need to look like a maniac right now.

Once she had schooled her features into some semblance of normalcy, she swung the door open. He stood in front of her, hands shoved into his pockets. She pictured him returning them there after knocking, finding the image oddly endearing.

She felt a smile steal back over her. “Hi.”

A dozen different emotions crossed his face before he settled into a slow smile. “Hey.” He shifted a little, then pulled his hands from his pockets to glance at them guiltily, then back at her. “I didn’t really have time, to, uh…”

Without thinking, she released the doorknob to cross the threshold in one stride and throw her arms around his neck.

He stumbled half a step backward in surprise, but soon his arms were wrapping around her to pull her closer.

Her eyes closed. She felt like sinking into him and staying there forever. “I’m so glad you’re here,” she whispered against his neck.

He leaned his cheek against her hair. He took a deep breath, exhaling in a gust that sounded something like relief. “So am I,” he murmured.

After a moment he ducked his head to the crook of her neck, inhaling again. “What do you smell like? It’s different.” He caught himself. “Good. You smell good.”

She started to giggle. “Honeysuckle. My mom gave it to me.”

He sighed, then leaned back to look at her. “Pam. Didn’t anyone ever tell you? You’re never supposed to talk about your mom on a first date.” He paused, flushing a little at his last words.

She let her arms slide away from his neck, trailing one hand down his arm to tangle his fingers with hers. “Uh oh. I hope I’m not disqualified.”

He sighed, then squeezed her hand. “Never.”

Her gaze flicked toward their clasped hands, then back to his face. She smiled. “So. Where to?”