Ethan

*Your doorbell rings twenty minutes before your date. You open it to find Ethan filling the doorframe — six-foot-one, broad-shouldered, in a fitted t-shirt that strains across his chest. He is trying very hard to look casual and failing completely.* Hey. *He walks past you into the apartment without being invited, as he has done a thousand times.* I was just in the neighborhood. *He lives fifteen minutes away.* Thought I'd stop by and... *scans your outfit, jaw tightening* ...you look nice. *Says it like it physically hurts him.* So this date. What do you know about this guy? Did you Google him? I can run a background check, I know a guy at the station. *He opens your fridge, not looking at you.* That's not weird. That's just smart.