I glanced away and muttered, “Thank you.” and placed them safely on my nose.

His voice was soft as he responded, “You’re welcome.”

Maybe with several tens of thousands of dollars in plastic surgery I can become alluring enough that, in dim light or after several shots, I might spark the interest of a biostatistician… or an actuary.

Quinn didn’t open the door immediately when the car stopped and I could feel his eyes on me. In an effort to avoid his gaze I started searching through my bag for my keys. At length he exited and I bolted past him as soon as he was clear of the door. Launching myself up the steps I felt him close on my heels.

“Are you going to be ok?”

“Yep. Just fine.” I slipped my key into the lock on the first try and felt thankful for the little miracle.

My internal temper tantrum tirade continued: But attracting and holding the interest of someone like Quinn Sullivan will have to go into my box of make believe with the eventual remake of Final Fantasy 7 with PlayStation 3 graphics or finding an original, pristine version of Detective Comics, No. 27- Batman’s debut. All attempts are futile. It is just something I will have to accept as fantasy.

I started through the door and up the steps not waiting for the door to close and not looking back over my shoulder. To my chagrin I heard his steps echoing mine up the stairs. I climbed faster. When I reached my door I fumbled for my keys and again was met with success turning the locks. He stood to the side, a little distance away, watching me.

I glanced over my shoulder briefly to give him a cursory wave, “Well, good night. Thanks for the… the- the picnic.” Just as I was about to escape into the safety of my diminutive shared one bedroom I felt his hand settle briefly on my arm above the elbow.

“I want you and Elizabeth to think about moving into that other apartment.”

I shrugged, pushing the door open just wide enough for me to set my bag down and slip halfway in, “Yeah, sure. I’ll talk to her about it.” I started moving further into my place.

Quinn reached out with his hand and gripped the door as though he were keeping me from closing it, “I’m serious.”

“Ok.” I nodded again, my eyes meeting his briefly. My brain was already several feet away, in my apartment, safe from the lingering feelings of rejection and reading the new biography I’d borrowed from the library on Madame Curie; it was not in the present, in the hall, where I was the pathetic queen of wishful thinking.

We stood at the door for several silent seconds; I could feel his gaze moving over me. I fought the building blush of embarrassment threatening to paint the roses of my cheeks red.

Then he said, “I have to go out of town.”

I nodded, “Yes, I know. You have that trip to New York on Thursday.”

“No. I’m going to leave tonight. I won’t be able to make our scheduled trainings this week and might be hard to reach over the next few days but you should text me if you need something-”

I shrugged my shoulders, again; again, the sound of whooshing blood filled my ears. I backed further into the darkness of my apartment as the blush won and crept steadily up my neck, marching over my features and burning me with mortification like Sherman burned Atlanta.

“-in Boston then New York and I’ll be back on Sunday-”

Wait, what did he say? Was he still speaking?

“- so maybe I can get a rain check on that dinner until next week?”

I sighed distractedly, still unable to meet his eyes, “Yeah, sure. Why don’t you call me when you get back.”

I didn’t expect him to call.

He nodded and started leaning into my apartment; then stopped, paused, and released the door. He shuffled backward into the hall. Quinn stabbed his fingers through his hair in a frustrated movement. “I’m really sorry about tonight.”

I glanced at him. He looked upset. I frowned. Before I could say anything he turned and left me, pulling his phone from his pocket as he went. I waited to close the door until I couldn’t hear the sound of his steps descending the stairs.

I didn’t turn on any lights as I walked to the couch. In the darkness of my apartment my mind began to wander.

I didn’t understand anything about this guy.

One minute he is pretending he wants to date me, the next minute he’s turning down my very obvious advances, and now he’s fabricating a trip in hopes that I won’t bother him. I was so befuddled. If he wanted to give me the brush off he didn’t have to make up some fake business trip.

I heard my heinous cell phone chime somewhere in the apartment. The sound made me growl in frustration but then, suddenly, I was curious. It chimed again before I made it to the kitchen counter where the devil’s device was charging; I glanced at the screen. It was a text from Quinn; actually, there were several:

The first: I am going to put some guards on you, won’t even notice them, sorry about all this

The second: I will call you when I get to NY on Thursday

The third: A neutron walks into a bar; he asks the bartender, "How much for a beer?" The bartender looks at him, and says "For you, no charge."

I frowned at the phone and the messages. He might as well have sent me hieroglyphics. After a long while I set the phone back on the counter and crossed back to the couch. I sat and stared then laid down in sudden exhaustion. My head was spinning. I didn’t understand men. They made no sense and behave erratically.

I knew I was still in my clothes and I realized I hadn’t brushed my teeth but I couldn’t bring myself to move. I felt paralyzed by confusion. I decided, as I succumbed to sleep, that men should come with manuals, subtitles, and reset buttons.

I’ve come to rely on my knitting group to be my compass in all things confusing and difficult to comprehend; this usually means relationships and interactions with other humans… er, people. My ladies have helped me navigate everything from precarious office politics to dealings with my ex’s mother. And this is why they are supportive and engaged when I explain to them my current situation with Quinn.

It was Tuesday night and we were gathered in Sandra’s roomy two bedroom apartment. Fiona was the only one missing, having to stay home at the last minute as her daughter was sick with the flu. Most of us had a drink in our hand and I’d just finished passing the evil cell phone around so they could all read the texts. I also just finished giving them a Cliff Notes version of the last week.

They were all silent. Ashley staring off into space, Marie frowning at a half knitted sweater, Sandra standing at the entrance to her kitchen leaning against the wall as though in heavy contemplation, Kat watching me with a cloudy mixture of introspection and trepidation, and Elizabeth was still scrolling through Quinn’s texts.

Ashley was the first to pipe up, her thick Tennessee accent makes even this sound charming, “I think he was upset about that guy in the park and that’s why he turned down your hot bod.”

Some of them nodded in agreement, some of them continued to stare unseeingly.

I sighed. “But, how interested could he really be? By the mighty power of Thor! I threw myself at him!”

Elizabeth frowned at me, “Did you really just say: ‘by the mighty power of Thor!’”

“I’m trying to cuss less.”

Some of them nodded in agreement, some of them continued to stare unseeingly.

I sighed. “I think I completely messed up. I think he thinks I’m pathetic and he’s just trying avoid me by making up some trip so he doesn’t have to talk to me.”

Marie shook her head, her blonde shampoo commercial hair bouncing around her face, “No. That’s not it.” She sounded so certain, “That’s definitely not it.”

Elizabeth nodded in agreement, “I agree with Marie. The boy is hot for you.”

Some of them nodded in agreement, some of them continued to stare unseeingly.

I sighed. “Then why did he turn down my advances?” I couldn’t help the frustration in my voice. I knew part of my frustration was due to his absence. I’d been spoiled by seeing him almost every day last week and now I missed him. I thought last Saturday, as he surveyed my apartment, that he didn’t belong there, in my life. But now the absence of him made me feel like I was forever trying to catch my breath.

And it had only been two days.

“Well, hell girl! He just watched you get man-handled by a creepy neck-tattooed skinhead.” Sandra said as she pushed away from the wall and joined us in the living room, “If he wasn’t interested then he wouldn’t be stuffing your cell phone inbox with messages. I think he’s worried about you.”

“Also, hon, you may not have been as transparent with your advances as you believe. I’ve seen you, you’re not a skilled flirter. It’s usually hard to watch.” Ashley grimaced, likely thinking back to one of my awkward flirting attempts.

Kat said quietly, “I don’t understand his reaction to the guy in the park. It sounds like he completely overreacted. Janie, is there anything else? Did the guy threaten you?”

I shook my head, “No. I just bumped into him. He was scary but, other than grab my arms he didn’t do anything.”

“But didn’t McHotpants say he knew the guy?” Sandra poked me with a carrot before dipping it into a vat of blue cheese dressing and biting into it with a solid crunch.