Rhett inhaled a deep, slow breath, shuffling his boots up the steps. He didn’t know why the nerves bubbled in his throat, or why his fingers twitched nervously. This was fine, normal even. It wasn’t a date, or it didn’t have to be. Never when planning had the word ‘date’ ever even been said.

“C’mon Abbott…” He scolded himself. He was twenty-six, not some stupid sixteen year old anymore.

Yet still, his chest had that funny twinge in it, and sweat gathered on his brow. He adjusted the angle of his hat, clearing his throat as he rapped on the door.