My cheeks go hot. I’m grateful he’s facing the window and not me. “Sure. Whatever. Fine,” I say, aiming for casual and landing somewhere much closer to breathless and flushed with excitement.
With one more nod, he slips through the window and disappears.
I stay on the counter for another minute after he’s gone. Then I hop down, clean myself up with a paper towel, and gather my clothes off the floor in a messy bundle.
No names. No faces. No falling in love. It’s only three rules. Simple enough, right? People follow rules all the time. There are rules for driving and rules for taxes and rules for how close you can stand to someone on the subway without it being weird. This is no different. Just another set of guidelines for an activity that so happens to involve a masked intruder who make
