Roger’s sitting on my bed, typing frantically on his phone as I go through every item of clothing in my closet. “Stop worrying so much.”

That’s easy for him to say. He’s a serial dater, and everything in his closet is spot-on.

“You’re not helping.” I push all the dresses to one side of the closet and realize everything I own is dressy.

“Wear the black dress.”

“Which one?” I own ten black dresses because a girl can never have too many.

“The tight sweater dress with the sweetheart neckline.”

“But that’s…”

He cuts me off. “It’s slutty yet sexy. Not too over the top. The girls will be visible but not on full display. If the man’s ready to move on, that number will do the trick.”

I lift the dress he’s talking about off the rack and stare at it. “It’s not really cold-weather friendly, Roger.”

“Stop being so practical all the time, Til. Wear a warm coat, and you’ll be fine. It’s not like you’re walking to the restaurant.” He laughs, finally tossing his phone to the side when I step out of the closet holding the dress in my hand. “Where are you going anyway?”

“I don’t know. He didn’t say.” I hold the dress against my body and stare at Roger, looking for more of his help. “Hair up or down?”

I usually don’t need his input when getting dressed, but I haven’t been out with a man in so long, I’m not sure exactly what to do. I feel like a teenager getting ready for a first date without a single fucking clue in life.

“Up. Your neckline is too beautiful to hide, and it’ll show off your rack better.”

“Roger, if I didn’t know better, I’d think you’re fond of my breasts.”

Roger stands, taking the sweater dress from my hands and grabbing my black push-up bra from the back of my door. “I can still appreciate the female body even if it’s not my cup of tea. Wear this and the red stilettos. You’ll be a knockout, kid.”

I frown, imagining myself all dressed-up and way overdone. “It’s not too much?”

“You can never overdress, Til.” Roger grabs my shoulders and stares at me. “You like this guy?”

“I think so.”

“Stop lying. You wouldn’t be going through all this agony over an outfit if you didn’t feel something for him.”

“Fine,” I groan. “I like him.”

“Go shower. Shave your legs.”

I gawk at him with my mouth hanging open.

“It’s best to be prepared. You never know where the night’s going to take you.”

I shake my head. “I’m not ready for that step.”

“Your armor is hairy legs?”

I stick my leg out, running my fingers across the light stubble. “They’re not hairy.”

“They’re not smooth either. Shave them. Leave everything else if you need a safeguard for keeping your newfound virginity.”

“Fine.” I snatch my dress and bra from his hands.

“If it gets hot and heavy, you may regret your decision.”

“Men have it so fucking easy,” I mumble.

“Hey. We manscape,” Roger says before I close the door to the bathroom.

“Manscape. That’s laughable.”

I stare at myself in the mirror, wondering how far I’d be willing to go with Angelo if I had the chance. No one has touched me in so long. Today, when I fell and he caught me, I didn’t do much to get out of his arms. It felt way too good to have a pair of strong arms surrounding me. I’d almost forgotten how comforting that can be.

Thirty minutes later, I emerge from the bathroom with my hair pulled into a tight bun and the black sweater dress showing off my girls thanks to the help of the push-up bra I typically save for special occasions.

Roger sits up a little straighter on my bed and places his phone in his lap. He whistles. “If there’s any hope for this man, he’ll be on you like white on rice.”

“You’re ridiculous.” I wave Roger off.

“If I were straight, I’d be all over you.”

“That wouldn’t be awkward or anything.” I snort. “Red lipstick or clear lip gloss?” I hold up two tubes.

Even the smallest decision is giving me trouble. Red lipstick is usually my go-to, but with Angelo, I don’t want to come off as a sex kitten looking to get laid. I want the classic beauty without the whorish undertones. I figure the dress already has me halfway to the hooker finish line, and the last thing I want to do is bust through the red tape right onto easy street.

“Red lips are always a must on occasions like this.”

“It’s a dinner as friends,” I remind him, even though I’m dressed like I’m ready to pounce on my prey and get busy.

“I’m sure it’s easier for you both to lie to yourselves with that line.”

I wonder if that’s what we’re doing, but there’s no time to dissect whatever that is this evening.

As soon as there’s a knock at the door, my stomach knots. Maybe this wasn’t a good idea. Maybe I’m not ready. No amount of coaching or convincing myself that I am can make it so.

Breathe, Tilly. Breathe.

“It’s time.” Roger rolls off the bed, looking just as good as he did when he got here. That’s the thing about men. They always look the same, and I hate them a little bit for it too. “Too late to back out. Do you want me to call you in a few hours as an out?”

I shake my head, but the option is tempting. “I have to grow up someday, and I don’t think I need an exit strategy with Angelo.”

Roger grabs my shoulders and squeezes as he stares me in the eyes. “You can do this, Tilly. You deserve this. Allow yourself to enjoy tonight. You’re still here and alive, but now you need to start acting on it. Regret’s a bitch to live with.”

I’ve had enough regret to last a lifetime. The last thing I need is more. I need to start taking control of my life and allow myself to indulge in things I’ve abstained from for years.

“Stay in here. I don’t want Angelo to get the wrong idea. Let yourself out.”

Roger nods. “Have fun. I expect a full rundown tomorrow.”

“I wouldn’t have it any other way.” I give him two quick kisses on each cheek. “Wish me luck.”

“You don’t need luck with tits like those, Til.”

“Coming!” I yell as I run toward the door, leaving Roger in my bedroom, and Angelo knocks again.

I take a deep breath as I touch the doorknob, giving myself a minute to get my shit together. “You got this,” I say because somehow saying it out loud makes me feel better. Mental? Maybe, but it works. “It’s not a date. We’re just friends.”

When I open the door, Angelo’s leaning against the wall in a white dress shirt, black slacks, and looking yummier than he does when he’s wearing a black T-shirt and jeans. The man could wear a paper sack and make it look good.

“Hey.” My stomach flutters, and I drink him in.

His eyes travel up my body, and there’s a hunger in his eyes. “You’re stunning.”

My body warms at the compliment, and parts of me that haven’t been touched by another human in years remind me they’re still alive too.

“Thank you.” I stop myself from downplaying the outfit or how I look in it. “You’re looking quite dashing yourself.”

Dashing isn’t the right word. I’m totally out of sync with the realities of dating in my thirties. Who the fuck says dashing anymore?

The man looks straight-up edible. Like I could spend hours exploring every dip and ridge if I were ready for that. I’m big at talking—hell, even thinking about all the naughty things I could do with him.

But would I?

I haven’t let another man touch me in so long, I’m not sure I could actually go through with it. My head knows Mitchell isn’t here anymore, but my heart hasn’t quite caught up.

“Are you ready to go?”

“Yes,” I say simply because I don’t want to seem overeager about this evening.

I’m excited to be going out with someone, even if we’re only friends, because in a city of millions of people, I have very few I consider friends. There’s always room for one more, especially a sexy drink of water like Angelo.

He steps to the side, giving me room to pass like a true gentleman. I can feel the heat of his gaze on my back as I walk in front of him. “Where are we going?”

“I thought we’d go for some steak. There’s a popular place not too far from here. Unless you’d like something else. But if you’re in the mood for something more casual, we can do that too. I’m easy. I like everything.”

“I’m kind of in the mood for pizza.”

His heavy footsteps stop behind me. “Pizza?”

I glance over my shoulder. “It’s my favorite. I heard there’s a great place on the South Side, Vito & Nick’s.”

Angelo’s eyebrows rise. “You really want to go to Vito & Nick’s?” he asks as he starts walking again to catch up with me.

I nod because there’s nothing better than a thin crust pizza covered with hot, gooey cheese and a cold beer to wash it down. “Yeah. Why’s that so hard to believe?”

“You just don’t look like the pizza type, and then there’s your outfit.”

I laugh. “I’m very much a pizza girl.”

I can feel his body heat against my skin in the cold hallway. “Are you sure?”

I glance upward, taking in his ice-blue eyes and knowing I could get lost in them. “I’m sure. I want to relax, and there’s nothing relaxing about a stuffy, overpriced steakhouse.”

We’re within steps of my building’s front door when Angelo places his hand on the small of my back. It’s gentle but unmistakable. I’m rendered speechless, almost unable to breathe.

I’ve missed being touched like this. The move isn’t forward or sexual, but manly and comforting. Something Mitchell did often, and I forgot how much I missed so simple an action.

“Pizza, it is.” He ushers me outside with his hand still on me. “Whatever makes you happy.”

My insides are a jumbled mess. My stomach’s fluttering like a horde of butterflies was let loose in a tiny box, banging against the sides and trying to escape.

This man did that to me.

He makes me want and crave things I haven’t wanted in far too long.