Cosmo and Marie Claire kept changing their minds when it came to sex and dating – make him wait, don’t make him wait, do what you want, you’re not a “slut”, you’re “empowered”... Kara took it all to heart and changed her habits at their whim.  After her last breakup, she decided to leave her fate to the glossy pages that dispensed advice between exercise tips and ads for Dove Chocolate and Madonna’s new clothing line.  

She was with Billy, “Old-Fashioned Billy” to her girlfriends at work.  It was their third date and they were at Hyde Park Bar & Grill.  Dinner was fantastic and she was hoping for dessert at his place.  Sitting at their booth, Kara drew her toe up and down his leg.  She swirled the last of the Syrah in her glass.  

“Thank you for dinner.” She said.

“You’re welcome.  Did you enjoy your meal?”

“Absolutely.”  She liked the fact he didn’t ask her to split the bill or kick in for the tip.  Maybe I found a man this time, not a boy, she thought.

“Did you want something else?  Coffee, perhaps?” Billy asked.

She tried to read between the lines.  “Coffee?  Are you trying to keep me awake?”

He flashed a shy smile, feeling very comfortable.  “Maybe.”

“Is there something you had in mind that we could do while we were wide awake in the middle of the night?”  She asked, innocently.

Billy leaned in a little closer.  “We might be able to figure it out as we go along.”

She continued to bait him.  “Maybe I don’t need coffee.  Maybe I don’t even need sleep ever again.”

“Well, in that case, perhaps we should go.”  He said.  They stood up and left the restaurant.  He held the door for her.

Billy didn’t have a car, at least not to her knowledge.  He had arrived at their first lunch date on a bicycle, she saw him walking up the street to the park at their second date to play Disc Golf and now, she learned that he lived within walking distance from the restaurant.  He was the only guy that she had dated in town who wasn’t flaunting his BMW or his Ford F-250.  

“I’ve always liked this neighborhood,” Kara said, wanting to break the silence.  “I lived off Avenue B when I was in school.”

“I’ve only been in my new place for about a month.  It’s just around the corner, here.”

“Oh, is that where we’re going?” she asked, knowing very well where they were going.  

“Yeah.  That’s alright, isn’t it?”

“It’s what... uh, yeah.”

Kara didn’t know why she was so nervous; she hoped it was just anticipation of possibly making it official until the sun came up.  Billy wasn’t like all the others, not that she could tell after three dates, but if he was on his best behavior, she was going to enjoy it until it stopped being fun.  

“Did you want to stop and get a bottle of wine?” he asked.

“No, I don’t think I’ll need it.”  A second passed before Kara realized what she had said.  It was just enough to break the surface tension; they both knew what was coming.  “I’m sorry; I didn’t mean it like that.”

“I know.”  His easy smile made her not feel so self-conscious.

They walked down the middle of Avenue F between 43rd and 42nd Street.  The canopy of overgrown pecan trees that aligned the street gave a haunted atmosphere at night.  The wind blew a late spring breeze and leaves swirled around their feet.  She wanted him to press her against one of the trees, or even go into one of the alleys between the houses and give her the kiss of a lifetime.  He just didn’t seem the type and she didn’t want to scare him away.  She was used to guys taking from her and getting their way; being with someone who was respectful was not necessarily new but it had been a while.  Kara found herself adapting to his speed instead of manipulating him to catch up to her.

He held her hand all the way to his door.  104.

“This is me.” He said, putting the key in the lock.  “Again, I must apologize for the mess.  I’m still moving in.  I’ve been so busy at work that I haven’t had time to properly unpack.”

“Don’t worry about it.”

He walked a little way inside and switched on a lamp.  The apartment was an efficiency; she was used to two-bedroom architectural ant farms that littered South Austin in 2006.  Billy was living in a duplex built in 1976.  The light from the lamp illuminated the room with a dingy yellow hue that she found strangely romantic.  She could make out some boxes that were in various state of being unpacked, his bike was hanging against the kitchen wall, a record player sat next to a 21” television and milk crates full of vinyl.  A Chicago album cover was leaning against the TV.  She carefully stood in front of his couch; she sat down and realized it had very little spring left.  He sat to her left and turned on another lamp.  It let out as much light as the first one.  The tension was thick between them.  She wanted him to kiss her but he didn’t know how assertive he should be.  There was a major tug-of-war being waged between his virtue and her past.  

“Do you want to smoke a bowl?” he asked.

“Sure.” She said.  “Is your bathroom through there?” she asked, pointing toward another darkened doorway.

“Uh-huh.”

Kara made her way through the door and found his bathroom.  She turned on the light and shut the door behind her.  She checked her make-up and hair and wondered how the next few hours were going to be.  Billy had a long laundry list of the traits she preferred, he wasn’t a douchebag and he was attractive.  He was a quirky Austin guy.  Part time artist, full time industry slave.  Wannabe musician.  Of all those things, none of them added up to him being a dirtbag, but time always told the tale.  Kara rebuked herself for not giving another potentially good boyfriend the benefit of the doubt.

She heard a male voice mumbling from the living room.  She opened the door and came out.  “Did you say something?”

“No, I was just listening to my messages.” Billy said, breaking up some grass.

“Wow.  I can’t believe you still have an old-school answering machine.” She said.  The message ended by saying Billy could pick up his car on Tuesday.  “So you do have a car?”

“Yeah.”

“Is that why you’ve been walking everywhere and taking your bike to come see me?” she asked.

“Not necessarily, I’ve got a motorcycle, too.  The weather has been gorgeous lately.  I just wanted extra time to enjoy it.”  Kara felt a chill go through her body.  That was one of the most romantic things she’d heard a man say that wasn’t from a script, uttered by an actor on the big screen.  His next message played, a courtesy call from his credit card company.  Billy passed the pipe and a lighter.  She scooted a little closer to him and smiled.  The machine clicked again.

“This message is for William Granger, this is Stacy from Dr. Pinter’s clinic.  We have your test results and we need you to call us right away; it’s urgent.  Thank you.”

Kara heard an alarm bell.  She looked at him; he didn’t seem moved by the message.  “What was that?”

“Huh?”

“That message.  A clinic with test results?”

“Oh.  No, it’s just my sister.”

She didn’t believe him for a second.  “Your sister?”

“Yeah.  She plays these stupid pranks on me sometimes.  She’s done it for years.”

Kara stood up and grabbed her purse.  There was no way she was going to take any chances.  “Don’t call me.”  She left his apartment.

Billy sighed, upset.  He hit the bowl a few times and turned on the television.  He sat in the dark and watched Death Wish III until he fell asleep.