DAVID

After finishing tidying my house for the second time, I gaze around it to make sure everything looks perfect. I bought some plants and cushions to make it homier, and new bed sheets for my room. I don't know how my date with Kaley will end, but it if makes it to my bed, I don't think my old faded sheets will make a good impression. I'm not usually one to fuss, but I'm kind of nervous. Excitement, maybe?

When I went for my interview at The Idea Factory over two years ago, I wasn't sure what to expect, or even if it was the right path to take. I had been working at an accountant's office for years, but never clicked with the people there. Lunch time was a circus with people trying to pry on my private life; wanting to know if I was single, about my family, my past. Those are details that I'm not willing to talk about freely or even comfortably. I felt in need of a change and when I saw a short vacancy text in the Saturday newspaper, I knew it was my chance to do something different. Without giving it extra thought, I emailed my details on that morning, not expecting much to come out of it. Not even an hour later, I had Zack on the phone begging me to come on the same day for an interview.

After closing the door of the studio behind me, I found chaos; boxes, a half-built table, buckets of paint against a wall, print proofs over all surfaces, even spread over the floor. A curvy girl with her brown curls in a knot, held by a pen, was on her knees examining a sheet close to her face. Suddenly, Zack appeared in my vision field.

"Thanks God, you are here! Come with me!"

I followed him to what is now the meeting room, which was also filled with more boxes, stacks of paper and chairs wrapped in plastic. Zack looked around, moved a pile of flyers from a chair onto the floor, and motioned for me to sit down.

"Can you do something about this?" He gazed around the room, while I ripped the plastic off the chair.

"What are these?" I peered into a box nearby.

"Receipts, invoices, everything from the last three years. We moved recently to this building. I haven't had time to sort stuff out," he raked his fingers through his hair in frustration.

"Are they paid? Have you been paid? Or is it just filing?"

"I'm not sure, that's why we need you," he plead.

"Okay, I think I can handle this."

He grinned and rushed out of the room.

"Hey, wait a minute! Shouldn't we talk more about the position?" I asked from the door.

"It's yours! You can start now! We will pay you whatever you want. I just don't want to deal with that shit anymore. I'm a designer. I hate doing the project management!"

The girl stood up from her paper mess on the floor and another guy I didn't even see when I came in approached me.

"Hi, I'm Elvam and this is Kaley. Together with Zack Valentine..." He pointed at Zack, who was back at his desk muttering. "We own The Idea Factory. I assume you applied for the project manager position?"

"Yes, I'm David Lantz, nice to meet you both. I'm not sure what just happened in there."

"Nice to meet you too," they both shook hands with me, but I couldn't keep my eyes off Kaley. "I'm sorry about that. We are kind in a hurry to hire someone. Zack usually does our finances and paperwork, but it got out of hand and he's close to a break down," he chuckled. "If you give me a minute, I can pull the minutes of our discussion to let you know the salary."

"We can really use the help. Like right now," Kaley said and from that moment on, I couldn't say no to her.

"I- Uh... Yeah, sure. I can give you guys a hand."

That afternoon, I finished building my desk and the meeting room table, and cleared part of the mess. I gave my two-weeks' notice and headed after work to the studio to put order and structure until I moved full time to The Idea Factory. In the time I've been there, I've learned their quirks, no one asks me about my private life, and I manage my work in the way I want without supervision.

My phone says it's six thirty and Kaley's apartment is about a half hour drive. Taking a last look in the mirror to make sure I look presentable; I head out the door to pick up my date.

KALEY

Disaster! What the hell do you wear for a date with someone who has practically seen everything that you have in your wardrobe? It's my fault. I should have gone to the mall to buy me something new, but woke up late and after the usual Saturday chores, the time to get ready for my date was upon me. Maybe the best is to keep it simple, it's only dinner and a movie after all. I close my eyes, shove a hand in my closet and it lands on a long lavender cardigan I got from my mom for Christmas that I have not worn yet. Feeling blessed with luck, I pair it with skinny jeans and flats. Am I doing all of this to impress David? Who ever thought...?

The doorbell chimes and I suddenly feel lost on what to do after I open the door. Do we kiss? Hug? Shake hands? I inhale deeply and feel stunned when I open the door. David stands outside wearing a thin gray sweater and skinny black pants. I've never seen him in anything different from his neat work clothes. In his hands, he carries a present; not the standard flowers, but my biggest weakness, a tub of rocky road ice cream with a red bow on top.

"I know you love daisies, but I also know that you like this a lot more. You look beautiful," he hands me the ice cream as he walks into my apartment.

I don't know what gets into me, but next thing I know, I'm hugging him in a way that is more a chokehold than anything else. He laughs and coughs a bit.

"Glad you like it," he says in a strangled voice.

"Like is an understatement. Thank you! Shall we go?"

After placing the tub in the freezer, we head downstairs to his car. We make effortless talk as we drive to a casual grill restaurant. Once there, the scents that receive us are mouth-watering. I decide quickly on my dinner choice. When the waiter takes my order and I ask to hold the vegetables and double the potatoes, David watches me amused.

"Hey, don't judge my food choices!"

"I'm not judging a thing. The few girls I have dated seemed obsessed with eating salads and dieting. You seem to enjoy hearty meals."

"I went through a time in my life when I struggled with my image. During a joint family vacation, Zack drew a pencil sketch of a powerful female superhero. He told me that he used me as the model while I was napping. I couldn't believe that the beautiful woman on the paper was me. He pulled me up to a mirror, placed the sketch next to me and said: it is you! Since then, I feel comfortable with the fact that I'm a size 14. I'm an Amazon woman like Wonder Woman," I chuckle.

"Both your confidence and your body are sexy," he smiles.

With a mix of pride and embarrassment, I try to change the topic. "All right, we are here alone. Why don't we get to know each other better?"

"Sure. Uhm... I believe you have known Zack for a long time?"

"Since we were 15 years old. He was a geeky boy with braces and glasses, and had an obsession with comics, still does. I was in my emo phase, wearing all black and listening to bands no one could understand, and people found me weird. We met in art class and became inseparable since we were also neighbors. We even went to prom together!" I laugh.

"I think it's special. I've never had a long friendship with anybody."

There is a flash of something in his eyes I can't decipher. Sadness? Longing?

"Have you always lived here in Greenwood?" I ask.

"I was born and raised here. I still find it pretty okay for my needs. You moved here for college, right?"

"First lived at the dorms and then Zack, Elvam and I shared an apartment. We got jobs here and made it our permanent place after graduation. Do you live in an apartment?"

"No, I have a house. I'm not good at gardening, but like to sit outside when the weather allows."

"What do you like to do when you are not herding us?"

"Sailing. It's something I picked up in my teens."

"That explains the tan and the sun tips in your hair. I could never do that. I burn like a lobster," I shrug.

He smiles sweetly at me. Our food arrives, and we keep the conversation to lighter topics. Still, whenever I ask something, his responses are short and lack detail.

"I feel like I'm talking a lot about myself and not learning much about you."

"I've never felt comfortable talking about myself. I have an unusual past and people are quick to assume stuff," he looks at his lap.

"I won't."

He looks uncomfortable, then seems to decide.

"Okay... Ask me anything."

"Tell me about your parents. Who do you look like?"

"Uhm... I- They..."

"It's a simple question. Your mom or your dad?"

"I don't know who my biological father is. The girl who prematurely gave birth to me passed away a few days later. She was a meth addict; didn't even know she was pregnant."