New York Nights
Page 125

 Whitney G.

  • Background:
  • Text Font:
  • Text Size:
  • Line Height:
  • Line Break Height:
  • Frame:
“No.” I lied, keeping my face stoic as I looked away from him and down at the watch he’d given me. “No, I don’t want more from you.”
“Good.” He grabbed the handle of his luggage and walked away. Then he looked over his shoulder. “See you in Chicago next Thursday.”
I refused to admit that the tears falling down my face were real.
***
“Honey, I’m home!” Meredith waltzed into our apartment several days later. “Oh god, what is that smell? Did you attempt to cook again?”
I didn’t answer.
She fiddled with pots and pans—turning off the food I’d burned. Then she lined up her shopping bags on the counter. “I’ve had interviews with Dior, Michael Kors, Furstenberg, and Coach. Oh! And you won’t believe the new line that’s coming from Hermes this fall. It’s edgier than anything they’ve ever put out on the market.”
I stared straight ahead.
“Gillian? Can you hear me?” She stepped in front of me. “Gillian, why aren’t you—Whoa...What’s wrong with you?”
I didn’t answer.
“Did you get fired? Again?”
“No...” I shook my head.
“Did you run into Ben?”
“No.”
“Okay, wait. Did your family finally find out that you live in a shithole and they have no idea who you really are?”
“No.” A slight laugh escaped my lips, but a cry came after. “You were right. You were so right...”
“About?”
I sighed. “You know that guy I told you I was sleeping with?”
“The pilot? The one you swore to leave alone after he embarrassed you at the gala?”
“Yeah, but...” I sighed. “I didn’t leave him alone. I went right back and we’ve still been...”
“Having sex?” She crossed her arms, confused. “You’re kidding.”
“I wish I was.”
“I see. Well, did he physically hurt you? Is that why you’re crying?”
“No...” I shook my head, and then I gave up any attempt to pretty up my words. I told her everything, everything that led up to our last tryst in the bathroom. How his fucking was perfect, but his mind was elsewhere. How the warmth in his eyes didn’t match the coldness that fell from his lips.
“You’ve argued with him how many times already?” She looked at me in shock.
“Just a few.”
“Is ‘just a few’ more than twice? More than five times?”
I didn’t answer.
“Okay,” she said. “You need to break this off for your sanity. Casual sex is literally ‘casual sex’ It’s supposed to be casual and fun, and he should be able to at least hold a simple conversation with you. If he shoots you down like that again, let him go. Otherwise, you’ll just be fighting for him to pay attention and it’ll be a waste of your time.” She must’ve noticed the expression on my face because she held up her hands in a fake surrender and sighed. “What’s his name?”

“Jake.”
“Is he really that attractive?”
I nodded.
“And that good in bed?”
“Yes.” I hated that the very thought of him kissing me again made me bite my lip.
“Regardless, no more chances until he apologizes, Gillian. And only one more chance after that. Promise me that. You’re too good to be tied down to another asshole.”
“Okay. I promise.”
“Good.” She stood up and picked up a stack of envelopes from our coffee table. “Oh and by the way, the new mail has changed faces a bit since you’ve been away. Let’s see what we have.” She flipped through the envelopes. “James Patterson, Stephen King, Janet Evanovich and as always—Kennedy B. So, the bill collectors are hoping you’re a fan of big name authors now?”
“Yep.”
“You know, I was actually getting used to the fictional characters.” She shrugged, tossing the envelopes into the corner. “One day you’re going to tell me how the hell you got them to treat you this way. Unless you tell ‘Jake’ first, that is.” She headed toward the kitchen. “I need a dinner date and I choose you. You want pancakes?”
“No, thank you.”
“What about crepes?”
“That’s the same thing, Mer.”
“Okay, so what about blueberry crepes and pancakes? With syrup?”
I laughed, giving in. “Okay.”
“Now, please tell me more about the sex because it better be off the Richter scale phenomenal for someone like you to ever put up with this type of guy.”
 
 
GATE B28

GILLIAN
Denver (DEN) Subject: Us...
Jake, I’m not sure what happened to you, or why you’ve been acting like you have lately, but I don’t like it and I want us to talk. I want “us” to go back to how we were.
—Gillian
Subject: Re: Us...
I’m trying to determine if this message is about fucking or not. Does your “us” refer to the original agreement we made in the hotel stairwell?
—Jake
Subject: Re: Re: Us...
It refers to the “us” where you actually talked to me, where I could consider you my friend. I miss that...
—Gillian
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Us...
Tuesday in Charlotte. E28.
—Jake
 
 
GATE B29

GILLIAN
Charlotte (CLT)—> San Francisco (SFO)—> France (CDG) Don’t cry...Don’t you dare cry...
I stood inside the bookstore in Charlotte International, flipping through another Grisham novel—hating that my flight today was delayed by two hours. As I pinned my thumb between chapters twenty-five and twenty-six, I heard the sound of someone approaching me from behind.
“Gillian?” Jake’s deep voice turned me on instantly, but I didn’t bother facing him. “Gillian, this is not E28.”
“I know it’s not E28. It’s Charlotte Daily News, a bookstore.”
“Did you come here hoping I would search the airport for you?” he asked. “Are you waiting on me to buy the book?”
“No, Jake.” I felt a pang in my chest. “I think you know exactly what I’m waiting for you to do.”
“I’m not fucking you in here.”
“What?” I spun around, tears pricking at my eyes. “Are you being serious right now?”
“My flight is in two hours. I would prefer if we fucked sooner than later.”
“You are...” A tear fell down my face. “Jake, you’re not being you. What happened? We were fine and you just flipped the switch...You haven’t said anything at all to me this week.”
“I just texted you an hour ago, Gillian.” He kept his voice low. “Yet, once again, you’ve chosen to ignore where I told you to meet me so we can argue for no reason.”
A woman suddenly darted between us, quickly grabbing a book from the shelf before moving away.
“You like me, Jake,” I said. “As much as you want to deny that fact, you like me and regardless of whatever the hell has happened to you, I deserve to be treated better than this.”