I did not sleep well after the dinner.
Not because the night was bad. It was the opposite. The night was perfect. Too perfect. The kind of perfect that made my brain spin in circles long after I got home.
Lucas had held my hand. Across the table. In public. Where people could see. His hand was warm and steady and slightly rough in a way that made me wonder what he did with his hands when he was not bringing me coffee and saving me from six inch heels.
The chandelier sparkled above my bed. I stared at it for a long time.
"You saw that, right?" I whispered. "He held my hand."
The chandelier did not respond. It never did. But I swear it sparkled brighter for a moment.
Around two in the morning, I gave up on sleep. I walked to the kitchen, made tea, and this time I only burned it a little. Progress was progress.
"You are awake."
I turned. Lucas stood in the doorway. Gray t-shirt. Sweatpants. Messy hair. He looked like he had not slept either.
"So are you," I said.
"I heard you walking."
"My footsteps do not sound like elephants."
"Tonight they sounded like hippos."
"Hippos are heavy."
"These hippos were very heavy."
I laughed. He walked to the counter and sat on the stool next to mine. I pushed my tea toward him. He took a sip.
"This is burnt," he said.
"I know."
"You burned the tea?"
"I only burned it a little."
"The tea is brown. It is supposed to be golden."
"The tea is fine. You are dramatic."
"I am not dramatic. I am honest."
"Same thing."
He looked at me. His ears were pink. A five on Sophie's scale. I had started using the scale without realizing it. Sophie was infecting my brain.
"Could not sleep?" he asked.
"No."
"Me neither."
"Why?"
He was quiet for a moment. His fingers traced the rim of the tea cup. "Because I kept thinking about dinner."
"Good thoughts or bad thoughts?"
"Good thoughts. Confusing thoughts. Thoughts that keep me awake at two in the morning."
I looked at him. The kitchen was dark. Only the light from the city came through the windows. His face was half in shadow. But his eyes were bright.
"Lucas," I said.
"Yes?"
"I kept thinking about dinner too."
"What part?"
"All of it. The forks. The snails. The way you held my hand."
His ears turned redder. A six. Maybe a seven.
"I should not have held your hand," he said.
"Why not?"
"Because you have amnesia. Because you are still figuring out who you are. Because I am your assistant."
"You are not my assistant right now."
"What am I?"
I looked at him. At the man who waited five years. Who drank burnt tea because I made it. Who lived below me just to make sure I was safe.
"You are the man I like," I said. "Sitting in my kitchen at two in the morning. Wearing sweatpants. Drinking my burnt tea."
"The tea is very burnt."
"Do not change the subject."
He almost smiled. "I am not changing the subject. I am commenting on the tea."
"The tea is fine."
"The tea is terrible."
"Then why are you drinking it?"
He looked at me. His ears were very red. "Because you made it."
My heart stopped. Then it started again. Faster this time.
"Lucas," I said.
"Yes?"
"Your ears are very red."
"I know."
"Why?"
"Because you are looking at me like that."
"Like what?"
"Like I am someone worth looking at."
I moved closer. Not much. Just a little. Enough that our shoulders almost touched.
"You are someone worth looking at," I said.
He did not move away. His hand was on the counter. Mine was next to his. Not touching. Close.
"Vivian," he said.
"Yes?"
"You have amnesia."
"You keep saying that."
"Because you keep forgetting."
"I am not forgetting anything right now. Right now, I am sitting in my kitchen at two in the morning, wearing banana socks, drinking burnt tea, and telling you that you are someone worth looking at."
"The banana socks are very distracting."
"They are supposed to be."
He laughed. A real laugh. Soft and warm and full of something I had never heard before.
"I like you," he said.
"I know."
"I like you a lot."
"I know that too."
"What are we going to do about it?"
I thought about it. The notebook. The amnesia. The past I did not remember. The future I was still figuring out.
"We are going to take it slow," I said. "One day at a time. One cup of coffee at a time. One dinner at a time."
"And the bananas?"
"The bananas stay."
He smiled. "The bananas stay."
We sat in the kitchen until the sun came up. Not talking. Just being. Together. In the quiet. In the dark. In the place where words were not necessary.
The sun rose over the city. Pink and orange and gold.
"Lucas," I said.
"Yes?"
"I am glad you live below me."
"Even though it is creepy?"
"Even though it is creepy."
He smiled. His ears were red.
The chandelier sparkled in the other room. I did not argue with it.
---
The next morning, Sophie was waiting in my office. She had a chart. The Ear Color Index. Updated.
"He was a seven last night," she said.
"How do you know?"
"Kevin saw him when he came back from dinner."
"Kevin was watching?"
"Kevin is observant."
"Kevin is a stalker."
"Same thing."
I sat at my desk. The ficus was on the corner. One leaf. Still green. Still determined.
"The plant is still alive," Sophie said.
"The plant is thriving."
"The plant has one leaf."
"It is a very ambitious leaf."
She laughed. "You are in a good mood."
"I am in a fine mood."
"You are in a great mood. Your ears are pink."
I touched my ears. They were warm. "My ears do not turn red."
"Yours turn pink. It is different."
"It is not different."
"It is adorable."
"I am not adorable. I am a CEO."
"You are a CEO with pink ears."
I threw a pen at her. She caught it. Sophie had gotten good at catching things I threw. Practice, she said.
"Lucas is good for you," she said.
"I know."
"He makes you happy."
"I know."
"And his ears are very red."
"I know that too."
She grinned. "Good."
---
Lucas came to my office at the end of the day. The sun was setting. The city was golden.
"Ready to go?" he asked.
"Almost."
I was looking at the ficus. The one leaf was still there. Still green. Still holding on.
"The plant is growing," I said.
"The plant has one leaf."
"It is a very determined leaf."
He walked to my desk. Stood beside me. Looked at the plant.
"Maybe it is not dying," he said. "Maybe it is just waiting."
"Like you?"
"Like me."
I looked at him. His face was soft. His eyes were soft. His ears were pink.
"Lucas," I said.
"Yes?"
"Thank you. For waiting."
He smiled. "You are worth waiting for."
My heart did something complicated.
"Let us go home," I said.
"Let us go home."
We walked to the elevator. Together. Close. Not touching. Close.
"Lucas," I said as the doors opened.
"Yes?"
"Your ears are pink."
"They are always pink around you."
"I know."
"Good."
The doors closed. The elevator carried us down. Fifty floors. Forty. Thirty.
I watched the numbers change. Each floor felt lighter than the last.
"Lucas," I said again.
"Yes?"
"I am glad you are not scared of me."
He looked at me. The elevator was small. Close. His hand was by his side. Mine was by mine. Not touching. Close.
"I was never scared of you," he said. "I was scared of losing you."
"You did not lose me."
"I know." He smiled. "I am trying very hard not to."
The doors opened. The lobby was empty. Quiet.
"Come on," he said. "Let us go home."
He walked out. I followed.
His ears were pink.
I smiled all the way to the car.