Here’s a fun little read for your Friday. I wrote it for a 500 word challenge. (I didn’t win.) But I like this story. What do you think?
At six o’clock, Lisa pushed open her door and paused. Instead of her apartment, she faced two doors, labeled Is and Could Be . Shaking her head, she glanced from door to door, and reached for the Is door, half-expecting the other to disappear as soon as she touched the knob.
The Is door creaked as she pushed it open, only a sliver. Peering through the gap, she spotted her table, her couch, her cat. What stopped her from rushing in, returning to her routine was the mystery behind the Could Be door.
She wrung her hands, her gaze glued to that door. Summoning courage, she touched the knob and breathed in deep. She twisted the handle, and the door swung open.
“That you, love? Dinner’s in the oven.” A husky voice called from somewhere out of sight.
Excitement danced in her chest. She tiptoed toward the voice. “Hello?”
Tall and chiseled, the man standing in the kitchen padded toward her, his jeans dragging around his bare feet. “How was your day?”
“Good.” Lisa scanned the room, searching for any hint of his name. A mechanic’s shirt draped over a chair rescued her. “Thanks for making dinner, Blake.”
He wrapped her in a hug and kissed her forehead. “It won’t be ready for an hour.”
Lisa’s cheeks warmed at his tone and implication.
He reached for her buttons, giving her a clear view of the ring on his left hand that matched the one on hers. “That enough time?”
“Yes.” Eagerness raised her voice an octave.
He carried her to the bedroom and laid her down on crisp cotton sheets. Goosebumps rose to meet his fingertips where they brushed her skin. He stretched out on top of her, catching her lips in a tango of desire. Lisa moaned, her dreams becoming reality.
Birds chirped outside the window, waking Lisa from the best night’s sleep she’d ever had. She hesitated, not wanting to open her eyes, afraid the entire evening had been a conjured dream—a satisfying, delicious dream.
Whiskers pressed against her shoulder. “Morning. I need a shower. Mind grabbing the paper?”
Lisa rolled him onto his back and slid on top of him. “I thought last night was a dream.”
He drew hearts on her back with rough and calloused fingers. “Good one, I hope.”
“The best.” She tasted his lips before slipping out of bed and pulling on her robe. “Be right back.”
In the hall, she picked up the paper, then turned back to the door, which hung open a sliver. She pushed it open and paused in horror.
The cat meowed, welcoming her back to her old life.
Her taste of what could be had vanished.
Swiping at tears, Lisa called the first garage listed in the phonebook. “Hi. My car’s making a funny noise. I wanted Blake to look at it.”
Working down the list, she repeated the call until she located a mechanic named Blake.
She grabbed her keys and raced across town.