Beautiful Stranger
Page 43
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“No,” I answered, my smile growing. “Never.”
His eyes widened slightly, and then he blinked to the bar, nodding at the bartender. “I come here because it’s filthy and usually empty and they have Guinness on tap.”
“And I come here because they have pool and I like to pretend that I can kick Max’s ass,” James said, and then finished his beer in a long drink. “So let’s play.”
I took this as my cue, and secured my purse over my shoulder, smiling a little at Max. “Have fun with that. I’ll see you.”
“Let me walk you out,” he said, and turned to James. “Get me another pint and I’ll meet you at the back table.”
With Max’s hand pressed to the small of my back, we walked out of the bar and into the blinding afternoon sun.
“Aw f**k,” he groaned with the heat, covering his eyes. “It’s better inside. Come back in and play with us.”
I shook my head. “I think I’m going to head home and do some laundry.”
“I’m flattered.”
I laughed but then looked around anxiously when he lifted a hand and touched the side of my face. He dropped it quickly, mumbling, “Right, right.”
“Does James know about me?” I asked quietly.
He looked at me, slightly wounded. “No. My friends know there’s someone, but not who.”
A thick awkwardness settled between us for a beat, and I didn’t know what protocol was here. It was exactly why the Friday-only arrangement was ideal: it required no thought, no negotiation of friends, feelings, or boundaries.
“Do you ever think about how weird it is that we run into each other all the time?” he asked, eyes unreadable.
“No,” I admitted. “Isn’t that the way the world works? In a city of millions you’ll always see the same person.”
“But how often is it the person you most want to see?”
I blinked away, feeling a bubbling mixture of unease and thrill drill up from my belly.
He ignored my awkward silence and pushed on. “We’re still on for tomorrow, yeah?”
“Why wouldn’t we be?”
He laughed, dropping his gaze to my lips. “Because it’s a holiday, Petal. I wasn’t sure I had holiday privileges.”
“It’s not a holiday for you.”
“Sure it is,” he said. “It’s the day we got rid of you whinging Americans.”
“Ha, ha.”
“Lucky for me there are no other holidays on Fridays this year, so I don’t have to worry about missing my new favorite day of the week.”
“Have you looked that far ahead at the calendar?” I felt myself moving a little closer to him, close enough to feel the warmth of his body even in this over-ninety-degree heat.
“No, I’m just a bit of a savant.”
“Idiot savant?”
He laughed, clucking his tongue playfully. “Something like that.”
“So where am I meeting you tomorrow?”
He lifted his hand again, and ran his index finger across my bottom lip. “I’ll text.”
And he did. Almost as soon as I turned the corner and reached the subway, my phone buzzed in my pocket with the words 11th Ave and W 24th St. There’s a high-rise across from the park. 7:00.
No indication of what building, what floor, even what to wear.
When I got there, it was clear there was really only one building he could mean. It was modern stone and glass, and overlooked the Chelsea Waterside Park. It also had a ridiculous view of the Hudson. The lobby was empty but for a security guard behind a desk, and after I fidgeted for about a minute, he asked me if I was Mr. Stella’s friend.
I paused, wary. “Yes.”
“Oh, good. I should have asked sooner!” He stood, almost as big around as he was tall, and waved me over to the elevators. “I’m supposed to send you up.”
I stared for a beat before snapping into action and walking into the elevator beside him. The guard stuck a key in a slot and then hit the R key.
Roof.
We were going to the roof?
With a friendly wave, he stepped out. “Have a nice Fourth,” he said just as the doors closed.
There were twenty-seven floors in the building, but the elevator was clearly new, and very fast, and I barely had time to think about what could be awaiting me before it let out a quiet ding and the doors opened.
I was in a small hallway, facing a short flight of stairs that led only to a door marked, ROOF ACCESS. NOT FOR PUBLIC USE.
What else could I do but assume that, today, the sign didn’t apply to me? This was Max, after all. I had the sense that he respected rules just long enough to learn how to properly bend them.
His eyes widened slightly, and then he blinked to the bar, nodding at the bartender. “I come here because it’s filthy and usually empty and they have Guinness on tap.”
“And I come here because they have pool and I like to pretend that I can kick Max’s ass,” James said, and then finished his beer in a long drink. “So let’s play.”
I took this as my cue, and secured my purse over my shoulder, smiling a little at Max. “Have fun with that. I’ll see you.”
“Let me walk you out,” he said, and turned to James. “Get me another pint and I’ll meet you at the back table.”
With Max’s hand pressed to the small of my back, we walked out of the bar and into the blinding afternoon sun.
“Aw f**k,” he groaned with the heat, covering his eyes. “It’s better inside. Come back in and play with us.”
I shook my head. “I think I’m going to head home and do some laundry.”
“I’m flattered.”
I laughed but then looked around anxiously when he lifted a hand and touched the side of my face. He dropped it quickly, mumbling, “Right, right.”
“Does James know about me?” I asked quietly.
He looked at me, slightly wounded. “No. My friends know there’s someone, but not who.”
A thick awkwardness settled between us for a beat, and I didn’t know what protocol was here. It was exactly why the Friday-only arrangement was ideal: it required no thought, no negotiation of friends, feelings, or boundaries.
“Do you ever think about how weird it is that we run into each other all the time?” he asked, eyes unreadable.
“No,” I admitted. “Isn’t that the way the world works? In a city of millions you’ll always see the same person.”
“But how often is it the person you most want to see?”
I blinked away, feeling a bubbling mixture of unease and thrill drill up from my belly.
He ignored my awkward silence and pushed on. “We’re still on for tomorrow, yeah?”
“Why wouldn’t we be?”
He laughed, dropping his gaze to my lips. “Because it’s a holiday, Petal. I wasn’t sure I had holiday privileges.”
“It’s not a holiday for you.”
“Sure it is,” he said. “It’s the day we got rid of you whinging Americans.”
“Ha, ha.”
“Lucky for me there are no other holidays on Fridays this year, so I don’t have to worry about missing my new favorite day of the week.”
“Have you looked that far ahead at the calendar?” I felt myself moving a little closer to him, close enough to feel the warmth of his body even in this over-ninety-degree heat.
“No, I’m just a bit of a savant.”
“Idiot savant?”
He laughed, clucking his tongue playfully. “Something like that.”
“So where am I meeting you tomorrow?”
He lifted his hand again, and ran his index finger across my bottom lip. “I’ll text.”
And he did. Almost as soon as I turned the corner and reached the subway, my phone buzzed in my pocket with the words 11th Ave and W 24th St. There’s a high-rise across from the park. 7:00.
No indication of what building, what floor, even what to wear.
When I got there, it was clear there was really only one building he could mean. It was modern stone and glass, and overlooked the Chelsea Waterside Park. It also had a ridiculous view of the Hudson. The lobby was empty but for a security guard behind a desk, and after I fidgeted for about a minute, he asked me if I was Mr. Stella’s friend.
I paused, wary. “Yes.”
“Oh, good. I should have asked sooner!” He stood, almost as big around as he was tall, and waved me over to the elevators. “I’m supposed to send you up.”
I stared for a beat before snapping into action and walking into the elevator beside him. The guard stuck a key in a slot and then hit the R key.
Roof.
We were going to the roof?
With a friendly wave, he stepped out. “Have a nice Fourth,” he said just as the doors closed.
There were twenty-seven floors in the building, but the elevator was clearly new, and very fast, and I barely had time to think about what could be awaiting me before it let out a quiet ding and the doors opened.
I was in a small hallway, facing a short flight of stairs that led only to a door marked, ROOF ACCESS. NOT FOR PUBLIC USE.
What else could I do but assume that, today, the sign didn’t apply to me? This was Max, after all. I had the sense that he respected rules just long enough to learn how to properly bend them.
