Friday came quickly. I was unaware what exactly Warren had planned for the rest of the day so I asked him if I should dress formal or casual beforehand. He suggested I choose whatever seems like the right option to me. "Be spontaneous" is what he had said. I took his advice and decided to wear the Kirby shirt my father had gotten me six years prior. It still fit like a glove. I'd always regretted leaving it behind. 

Warren asked me to meet him in the park down the street from where I lived. I thought this was a peculiar location to meet up at but I obliged. He was very specific about the timing and said he'd show up at precisely 3:27pm. And he stuck to his word. I liked it when people were precise. 

He was wearing a simple black shirt along with dark jeans and a pair of sneakers. Now that he was wearing shorter sleeves, his sleeve tattoos were visible. The sun was shining brilliantly behind him, giving him a celestial aura. I couldn't make out each individual one underneath the sun's glare so I waited for him to get a little closer. It turns out he hadn't come alone. In his left hand, he was holding onto a leash tied to a fully grown Rottweiler. 

I was afraid of dogs but I hadn't told him this. I didn't want to make a scene so I simply stared down at my feet and pretended like the canine wasn't there, barely five feet away from me. I hoped he would blame the lack of eye contact on my autism and not my fear of dogs. 

"You actually showed up at 3:27," I commented, the tremor in my voice giving me away. I cleared my throat. I crossed my fingers behind my back, hoping he wouldn't notice. 

"Are you okay?" he questioned, leaning down towards me so he could hear me better. "You're not afraid of dogs, are you?"

I couldn't lie to him. I was a terrible liar. Whenever I told a lie, my hands would get clammy and my heart would start beating uncomfortably fast. My throat would develop a painful lump and I'd start stumbling over my words. Dad said that this was most likely guilt or the fear of being caught in a lie. 

"Yes."

"I'm so sorry," he gasped, stepping in between me and his dog. "I should've asked before bringing her here."

"Does she bite?"

"No. She never has. She's an angel."

I believed him. I looked over at the dog who was now peering at me from behind Warren's legs. She looked curious. Her tail was wagging behind her at the speed of light. 

"I want to touch her but I'm afraid."

"I can help you if you'd like," he offered, crouching down in front of the dog and beckoning for me to do the same. I obeyed. "Can I touch your hand?"

I nodded.

He reached out for my hand and held onto my wrist gently before bringing it closer and closer to the canine. Slowly. My heart was threatening to spill out of my chest and my stomach felt like it'd dropped into an empty pit. I was afraid. Terrified, even. I squeezed my eyes shut, hoping that this would ease my fear. It did nothing of the sort. Finally, I felt my fingers land on something soft.. and fluffy. Almost like a marshmallow. I opened my eyes. 

The dog was staring at me with her tongue out. A small smile had found its way onto my face. I was still nervous - and this feeling would only heighten every time she made a sudden movement while I was petting her. But with Warren there, I felt oddly safe. I was sure she wouldn't bite because he had said so. 

"Her name is Bruno. I know people typically name their male dogs that."

"It suits her."

"I think she likes you."

"I like her."

"Are you still afraid?"

I nodded.

I was still afraid. Just not as much as I was when I'd first laid eyes on her. I noticed how Warren still hadn't let go of my wrist. He noticed that I'd noticed. He awkwardly pulled his hand away from mine and began scratching the back of his neck. I had learnt from my classes when I was younger that people tend to do this when they're embarrassed. 

"Are you embarrassed?" I asked.

"Just don't wanna make you uncomfortable," he confessed before standing up. I mirrored his actions. 

I appreciated how thoughtful he was. But he hadn't made me uncomfortable. Usually, I would've had pins and needles all over my wrist by this point. I would've felt like television static. But I didn't.

I was okay.