Rachel paced in the parking lot outside of Ean’s apartment, trying to work her courage up – or, barring that, deduce the answers to some questions that had been bothering her all week so she wouldn’t have to go in and ask them.
In the absence of her cat, she talked to herself. "It’s okay," she said. "Really, you’re here to let him off the hook. Dinner was a bad idea: he doesn’t have a job. He’s probably been preoccupied with making ends meet. And he never did ask for your number last time. And probably never thought to try and contact you at work. And can you blame him?"
She sucked in a deep breath, which expanded her chest in a way that made me really wish Ean was around so I could give him a hard time about it. Then she let it out in a rush.
"Worst case scenario," she said to herself while staring at the apartment door, "is that he actually is mad at you about the job and throws you out." Her brow furrowed. "And you barely know him, so stop feeling like you’d be losing your best friend," she told herself sharply.
Then she steeled herself, set her shoulders, and marched into the apartment – determined to get some answers…or at least get asking the questions over with.