Make Me Feel Alive

Why was I so nervous? I'd already hung out with him once.
I glanced around my apartment. It wasn't anything fancy, but It was decent. The kitchen might be small, and I hadn't had cable in months so my TV was a little dusty, but overall the place was clean.
I glanced at Toby where he was stalking a miller.
This was going to be an absolute disaster. I was going to embarrass myself. I should text him now and tell him I'd broken my hip on something and I couldn't hang.
And now I had a sleeping with sirens song stuck in my head.
I anxiously chewed my lip.
I hurried back into my bedroom, and stared at myself in the mirror. I'd just worn some skinny jeans and one of my longer fitted T's, nothing extravagant. I'd left my hair loose and my glasses on, though I'd put some makeup on just to help define a little bit.
Still, this was a bad idea. He was going to expect me to sleep with him, and I wasn't going too. I had way too much common sense. Besides, if it pissed him off then it didn't matter anyway.
Oh, who was I kidding? He'd made it clear that he had no plans on dating me, just sleeping with me. Why else would he only want to meet up with me so late after his concert?
Booty call.
Great, you're sinking that low, my conscious harped at me. Why? Because he paid you some attention? You don't need him, not now that you've finally ditched Trevor.
I was starting to regret this intensely.
I heard a knock on the door, and froze, staring at it. Well, too late now, I thought, and forced myself to move forward. I got halfway to the door before Toby suddenly darted in front of me with a yowl, and I stumbled, trying to avoid stepping on him.
"TOBY!" I halfway landed on the couch, and I scowled, flailing at him. He hissed, looking like I had offended his great ancestors, and took off, disappearing into my bedroom and sliding beneath the bed.
I could have killed him.
Wincing, I rubbed my thigh as I now had to hobble to the door. That was going to leave a bruise and I didn't need that.
I straightened, and went to the door, pulling it open before I lost my nerve.
"Hey there," Ashley grinned at me, and I glanced him over.
"You're still in concert gear," I commented, taking a step back to let him in.
He shrugged, stepping into the apartment. "I didn't have time to change."
"Why not?" I blinked at him, closing the door. "It's not like I was going anywhere."
"Hey, for all I know, you were going to change your mind," he told me, coming to a stop by the couch. "Where's your cat?"
"In the bedroom, why?"
Ashley looked at my room, then hurried across the space and closed the door. What was he doing?
"What are you doing?" I asked as he then strode to the kitchen.
"What's it look like?" he suddenly started going through the cabinets, and pulled out my box of popcorn. "Why do you have like seven boxes of popcorn in here?"
"They were on sale," I said defensively as I moved over to him quickly. "I bought when I could afford."
"Popcorn? Its like a couple bucks," he snorted, tossing a bag in the microwave and punching in the numbers.
He had no idea.
I pulled the bowl out of the cabinet and slid it across the counter to him.
"Want something to drink?"
"Waddya got?"
"Um," I squeezed past him and his studded belt to the fridge. "I have water, juice, soda... And soda."
Ashley stepped over to me, crowding me slightly against the fridge door where it opened against the wall as he peered into my sparsely packed fridge.
"Huh, cream soda?"
"Yeah, you've never tried it? It's good. Here," I reached and grabbed a can, and handed him one. "It's one of my favs."
"Huh," was all he said as he moved to the microwave as it dinged. The scent of popcorn filled the air as he shook the bag out into the bowl, and then popped the tab on the soda. He took a sip, and then paused.
"It takes more then one sip!" I told him, and took a handful of popcorn as I shimmied by him. "It's an acquired taste."
"I'm sure. So, what do you normally watch on your Fridays?" "What makes you think that's what I do?" I sat on the couch and pulled my laptop to me. "I could be out."
"You have ten boxes of popcorn and a fridge full of soda. Looks to me that's what you live off of. Plus you've worn out your original charger for your computer because that's a versatile one, meaning it burnt out or your cat eat it," he told me, plopping down beside me.
Why was he so observant? I frowned at him.
"So, watcha normally watch?"
"Um, TV shows." This was weird. Like really weird.
"Huh. What's that?" he reached forward and nudged my hand out of the way as he scrolled to one of my favorite movies. "Fragile?"
"It's a horror movie."
"Cool." he clicked on it. "Lets watch."
"Are you sure?" I stared at him. "You want to watch movies?"
"Sure, what else is there to do?"
Was that a rhetorical question?

Notes