Dave watches Jenna pucker her lips and blow kisses at her reflection. Faintly, his stomach rumbles, reminding him it’s already after noon. He usually stops for an early lunch -- working as an ad-man for the local shopping mall, he hit the food court the moment it opened at eleven. Bobby’s lunch break was a little later, and because they worked on opposite ends of town, they rarely managed to meet in the middle of the afternoon.

But today is different. Today it’s been six months since they ran into each other again and picked up their friendship right where they’d left it years ago. Six months to the day of their first kiss. So in Dave’s mind, it’s an anniversary, of sorts. And an anniversary requires a celebration.

To Jenna, he prompts, “So when we get there, you’re going to ask for ...” He wants to run through the routine one last time before they put it into action.

Dabbing the corner of her lips to fix her cherry-flavored lip gloss, Jenna sighs. “Don’t worry, I know it.”

“Humor me.” Dave tugs at the bottom of his sports jacket, all too aware he’s getting nervous. Sure, he saw Bobby this morning, but he’s never visited his lover at work before. What will Bobby say when he sees Dave and Jenna? What will his coworkers say?

Jenna rolls her eyes. With a thick, fake accent, she intones, “Is Mr. Jansen available, puh-leaze? I vish to speak vith him at vonce.”

Dave laughs. “You don’t have to overdo it, honey.”

But she flips the end of the boa over her shoulder and turns up her nose at him. In a haughty voice, she declares, “I am an act-tresse. Do not interfere with the talent, please.”

Dave laughs again as the elevator slides to a silent stop. “Show time,” he murmurs, smoothing out imaginary wrinkles in his jacket and shaking his shoulders to loosen up.

God, he thinks, waiting for the doors to open. What is up with me today? This isn’t our first date. I’m just coming to take him to lunch, that’s it. So what’s with the sweaty palms?

“You ready, Jenna?”

She slips her small hand into his and gives him a reassuring squeeze. “I’m cool, Mr. Dave.”

In a loud stage whisper, he asks, “Do I look all right?”

“You look fabulous, dahling.” With one finger, she taps her sunglasses down to cover her eyes.

“I don’t feel fabulous,” Dave admits as the elevator finally opens to reveal the cut-glass windows of Shumley Construction’s main business office. “I feel like a nervous wreck.”

Leading him out of the elevator, Jenna sashays up to the glass door. “I told you to wear my other feathers,” she says with flawless, childlike logic. She stops in front of the door and waits for him to open it for her. “If you want to feel fabulous, you simply have to look the part.”