It didn’t take long for Roman’s phone to chime with an incoming text from Abigail. He checked to find a new message from her asking if he was inviting her on another date. For some reason, the question surprised him. He would have thought it was implied that he was asking her out again. She really must not have been on many dates if she needed clarification. He was just about to reply, when a second text came in that caught him even more off guard:

[center][b]Whatever this is, I don't want to go out anywhere. Are you okay coming over to my apartment? I make really good food![/b][/center]

[i]She wants me to come to her place?[/i] His lip curled upward in a smirk. [i]How trusting.[/i] He would have thought it would take at least four or five dates before she let him come to her apartment. Maybe three if he was lucky. For her to invite him over after just one was both unexpected and encouraging. After all, if she was willing to move fast with him in that way, it wasn’t too far of a stretch to assume she could be willing to move fast in the way he wanted, right?

He tapped out a reply:

[center][b]A home cooked dinner? You spoil me, doll ;) Just me send your address and I’ll be there tomorrow.[/b][/center]

Pressing ‘send’ on the text, Roman stood up from the couch and raised his arms over his head in a long stretch. Normally, he would have gone out to a bar on a Friday night, but after everything that had happened the night before, he decided he would rather stay home and keep watching movies alone—especially since it turned out Cindy was tailing his ass and trying to ruin his chances with any other women.

He walked over to the kitchen and opened up a cabinet, taking out a bottle of whiskey. Just because he wasn’t going out didn’t mean he couldn’t get shit faced by himself. He brought the bottle back over to the couch, kicking his feet up on the table and pouring himself a glass. Lifting the drink to his mouth, he downed the whole thing in one gulp, grimacing at the burn of the alcohol on his throat.

After pouring a couple more glasses and repeating the process, Roman sank down into the couch, lying on his side as he watched a low-budget Godzilla destroy a city. He yawned tiredly, letting the whiskey work its magic on his system. His head was already fuzzy with drunkenness. He smiled to himself. He would definitely get a good night’s sleep tonight.

--

[b]October 3, 2015
New York, NY – Roman’s Apartment
9:45AM[/b]

Roman woke up on his living room couch with the TV still glowing in the corner. He sat up slowly, testing to see if he had another hangover. Fortunately, he seemed to have escaped from one this time. He glanced at the time on his phone, wondering when he had fallen asleep last night. Whenever it was, he felt like he had slept for a solid twelve hours at least. It certainly made up for the shitty three hours he had gotten the day before.

He got up and headed to his bedroom to get ready for the day. He had a date with Abby later that evening, after all, so he needed to turn on the charm. He wanted to make sure she was crazy about him after their dinner together, and the first step to that was looking presentable.

Roman took a long shower—he had all day to get ready for the date, so there was no reason to rush—before he went to his closet to pick out something to wear. Most of the clothes he owned were nothing fancy, but after a bit of searching, he found something halfway decent. He put on a maroon button-down shirt and a pair of black jeans, and then went to the bathroom to trim his beard down to a neat stubble and run a comb through his hair. Lastly, he searched his closet one more time and found a black tie, which he threw on to complete the look.

He stood in front of a full-length mirror that was attached to his bedroom door and grinned at his reflection, adjusting his tie so it laid straighter against his chest. [i]I clean up pretty nice, if I do say so myself,[/i] he thought confidently. [i]Hopefully Abby will think so too.[/i]