Yes, he's handsome and funny and generous and warm. And when he looks into my eyes, I feel like I could do anything, be anything, the best version of me. But I also know that he is a guy I just met.
Thankfully, I was able to ask the makeup artist, Tori, her honest opinion before I left the studio after ending things with Allister. My contract, namely. Tori gave me the 411 on Andrew.
"Oh, Andrew is incredible," she'd said. "He's literally the nicest guy ever. Do you remember when my plumbing was screwed up over the summer? He came and fixed it. And while he was there, he fixed my AC unit too. Remember me telling you about that?"
"Well yeah, you did. But you talked about a guy named Andy."
"Well, Andy, Andrew, same thing. Oh, and remember that other guy, who was like, super creepy?"
"Oh, creepy Steve?"
"Yeah," she'd said. "Creepy Steve. Andrew's the reason he got fired. Andrew put in a complaint with SAG because he didn’t like the way he was treating the women on the sets. He's like, bad-ass."
Tori of course wanted to know why I wanted the information on Andrew. I told her. Well, not everything, not the fake fiancé part, but I told her he had offered to drive me home for Christmas.
"Oh, you're in great hands," she says. "He's honestly a good guy. Like, you know there's good guys and then there's good, good guys? He's a good, good guy. He'll take good care of you. Oh, and when his family was in town last year, I did his sister Naomi’s wedding makeup. She's super sweet. They got married at that farm on Bainbridge Island."
"Really?" I said.
"Yeah," Tori said. "So I promise he and his family are all normal, all lovely, and you're going to have a great time. I promise."
"Okay," I said. "Well, I guess I can't make any excuse not to go on this road trip with him."
"Why would you want to make an excuse anyways?" Tori said. "Besides all the nice stuff, he's super hot."
Now though, as I get to my apartment with all those thoughts swirling around my head, Tori’s words and my grandma's words, I'm realizing that I'm going to actually be alone in the car with Andrew for so many hours tonight, which is coming up pretty dang quick.
Once I get in the apartment, I realize I better start packing because he's going to be here soon enough. I begin gathering my clothes, a few dresses, pants and sweaters, along with a jacket and boots.
I make sure that there's nothing that will spoil sitting out on my counters. And I put my fruit bowl in the fridge. I lock the windows and make sure the apartment is tidy. I hate coming back to a dirty place. And then I triple check that I have things like my phone charger and my Kindle and my pillow, my favorite one, shoved in my suitcase. When I'm all ready to go, I text Andrew, letting him know.
"Perfect," he says. "I'm on my way."
"Do you want me to make coffee for us for the road?" I ask him. "I know it's going to be a long night."
"One step ahead of you," he tells me. "I just got us gingerbread lattes."
I smile as a picture comes through. It's two to-go cups in the console of his car. Who is this man?
Ten minutes later, he's buzzing at my front door and I meet him on the sidewalk outside my apartment. He acts like a true gentleman as he loads my luggage into his slick black SUV. With a smile, he opens the passenger door for me like a gentlemen once again.
His brown hair is wavy and I have this strange itch to run my fingers through it. Maybe because that chaste kiss he gave me earlier at the studio is still running through my head, my mind, my belly, my whole entire body head to toe.
He pulled back before anything could be said or done about it. And in the moment, I was glad because Allister had walked in just moments later, and I didn't want anything to be said about Andrew's professionalism in the workplace. But now that I'm alone with Andrew again in his car, I kind of want that kiss, many more of those kisses. In fact, I want long, deep kisses from him.
With the door shut and our seats buckled, it's growing dark outside. The console says it's 9:00 PM and we're going to get to my grandma's probably at 6:00 or 7:00 in the morning.
I look over at him. "It's going to be so long a drive tonight. Are we crazy?"
He shrugs. "Probably. We can pull over if we get too tired, but I'm a good driver. What about you?"
"I'm pretty good on road trips. If I fall asleep, let me sleep for a bit, but not too long. Then wake me up and I'll do a shift of driving."