My heart was racing once I stepped up on the porch. I could hear the music thumping through the house. I reach up and ring the doorbell. Footsteps come towards the door and it opens and there you are. You’re not overly tall, 5 foot 9 inches, longer brown hair that’s shorter on the sides, you’re very thin but not sickly looking. Your hands are rough from working manual labor all week but they’re always so gentle with me.
“Hey!” You say with a smile.
“Hey.” I reply. “Ready to make some cookies?”
“Hell yes I am!” You grin and step to the side to let me in.
I take off my jacket and boots. The surround sound system you have in your house makes the bass feel heavy in my chest and you’re playing dance music. We walk to the kitchen and I sit to watch you pull out the ingredients for the cookies. You were bragging all weekend about how great these cookies are and I told you to prove it.
“If you want to put on any music my phones right there.” You gesture to your phone on the counter.