Make Me Happy

Damian

When I arrive at Angel’s building, another resident or guest is on their way out, so I sneak through the door and go up to her apartment. That seemed the gentlemanly thing to do, rather than ask her to come down or waste time with her buzzer.

The elevator doors open on the third floor, so I walk to unit 308 and knock. Maybe I should have let her know I was here, because me showing up might catch her by surprise. Too late now.

I hear her speaking from the other side of the door and realize she’s talking to Genie. I chuckle because she’s trying to discourage Genie from jumping on me. Little does she know, I love that her dog gets so excited to see me.

The door swings open and I’m paralyzed. Angel is bent over, trying to keep Genie from running out the door, one hand on the dog, the other on the door handle. Her hair is down in her signature curls, and her dress… What can I say about the dress? From her bent over position, I can see her exposed upper back and shoulders. Her skin is smooth, with tan lines from a tank top with wider straps than the spaghetti straps on her current outfit.

Finally, she speaks, “Come in for a minute?”

I step through the door, allowing her to close it behind me, and she stands straight, giving me the first full glimpse of her. Wow! Her dress is a satiny green floral number that hits below her knees but has a slit up her right thigh. The cowl-type neckline drapes over her breasts, and the rest of it hugs her curves in the most sinfully angelic way.

“You look stunning.” The fact I asked her on this date only a few hours ago tells me she had this dress on hand, and a pang of jealousy strikes me when I think about anyone else taking her out looking this gorgeous.

Her cheeks have a hint of blush as she acknowledges my words. “Thank you. I figured you’d be coming from work and still in your suit, so I didn’t want to wear jeans and a T-shirt.”

Was that her only justification for dressing up? I reach out to place my hand on her arm and step closer to her so we’re only a few inches apart. Her breathing picks up, and I can see her chest rising and falling under the thin silk. “Don’t do that.”

“Do what?” She tilts her head back to look into my eyes.

“Don’t downplay how incredibly gorgeous you are. You’d be just as beautiful in jeans and a T-shirt.”

The colour on her cheeks deepens, and I’m having to stop myself from kissing her—something I’ve been dreaming about for weeks. The timing has to be right, though. She deserves to be treated like a queen first.

Breaking my focus from her, I bend down and address Genie, who hasn’t jumped up on me. I tell her she’s a good girl, and her little spin-wobble dance is too cute not to laugh at. If there was ever a creature made of pure joy, it’s Genie. She’s the happiest dog I’ve ever met.

I stand, dragging my eyes up Angel’s form along the way, and smile so wide my cheeks hurt. “Are you ready to go?”

She nods and even a simple gesture has me admiring the movement of her hair, the flutter of her lashes, and the way she chews her bottom lip.

Angel takes a moment to say goodbye to Genie before we walk out the door, and like it’s the most natural thing to do, before we reach the elevator, Angel loops her arm around mine. I press the down button without looking at it because my eyes are drawn to the woman next to me. Her delicate touch on my arm is as soothing as a cool summer breeze. Like after the chaos of my day at the office, being with her is a breath of fresh air—something that can be scarce in the summer smog of Canada’s most populous city.

“Where are we going?” she asks when the elevator arrives.

“Would you kill me if I said we were going to Harvest?”

Her facial expression makes me burst out laughing.

“Wow. If looks could kill. No, we’re not going there. Have you ever heard of Hibiscus?”

She nods. “How do you expect to get in there, Mr. Fancy Pants? I couldn’t even get in there to drop off a resume.”

“I called earlier to make a reservation. I did some work for them, so they’re happy to fit us in.”

“Oh. You’re one of those.”

The elevator dings, the doors open, and she steps out, but I’m frozen in place for a few seconds. “One of what?”

She doesn’t reach for my arm again when I step out, causing me to clench my teeth from the nerves pooling in my stomach.

“One of those guys who uses their connections to get what they want.”

If she only knew how much I don’t want to be that guy. Not even a little. I’m gripped by a wave of nausea, afraid I’ve given her the wrong impression. Yet again. “When I completed the work for them, the owner was grateful and told me he’d welcome me whenever I wanted. I’ve never taken him up on it. But today, I wanted to take you somewhere nice, so I called in a favour. If it bothers you, we can go somewhere else. I’m fine with McDonald’s.”

Angel’s eyes glance down at her feet. “I’m sorry. Sometimes I make assumptions I shouldn’t. I’d be honoured to go to Hibiscus with you.” She smiles at me with one side of her lips tilted up and my bout of nausea disappears. She loops her arm back through mine, and before she takes another step, adds, “But McDonald’s is fine too.”

We walk toward my SUV, where I open the door for her and help her in. The slit up her thigh separates, exposing more of her smooth skin, and I force myself to avert my eyes before she catches me ogling her. I don’t want her thinking I’m “one of those.”

We weave through traffic on our way to Hibiscus, and if I smiled any harder, I’d resemble The Joker—minus the weird makeup. Unlike the other times she’s been in my car, this time she makes herself comfortable. She fiddles with the radio, settling on a top forty station, and singing along to the lyrics of each song. Not well, I should add, but the way she is so genuinely herself is hard to ignore.

We pull into the underground parking for Hibiscus, just as Genie in a Bottle comes over the radio. Angel bounces in her seat, excitement oozing from her.

“Are you really hungry?” I ask, assuming she’s excited we arrived at the waterfront restaurant.

“No. I mean, yes, but this is my song. This is why Genie is Genie!”

That answers a lingering question I’ve had since the first day I met the dog. “Really? This song?”

“This. Is. A. Classic.”

I chuckle at her, which earns me a set of dagger eyes, only making me laugh harder. I find a suitable parking spot in the crowded lot, regretting my choice to come here on a Friday.

Angel makes me wait in the car until the song has finished, then flashes me a smirk that solidifies the thought I’d suffer through any number of pop-diva ballads for her.

We take the elevator up from the garage level to the twelfth-floor restaurant. Our server takes my name and ushers us to a table right away. We’re seated by the window overlooking Lake Ontario, and I hope we’ll be here long enough to watch the sunset.

Though, with Angel in this dress, it’s hard to focus on anything else.