Page 63 of The Love Hack

And then he closed the door.

‘What…?’ I began. ‘Kieren, what are you…?’

He placed a finger over my lips, smiling, then moved it away and kissed me, one hand in the small of my back and the other behind my head, his fingers buried deep in my hair.

I thought, This is crazy. This is insane.

But my doubts were overwhelmed by relief that he still wanted me. It’s just a kiss, I promised myself. It’s stupid and risky, but it’s just a kiss.

I was wrong about that, too.

Seconds later, I felt his hands pushing my dress up and pulling my tights down, a finger caressing me, gently but urgently.

‘We’ll have to be quick,’ he murmured. ‘You up for this?’

Afterwards, I thought I should have said no. Of course I should have. But I was too bewildered. I didn’t want to cause a scene. And, in a way, I was up for it. I wanted him. I wanted him to want me. Just not like this.

He put his hands under my thighs and lifted me up, so suddenly I gave a gasp of surprise. Before I could I figure out what was happening, he’d pressed my back against the door and I felt his cock inside me. Instinctively, I wrapped my legs around his waist and my arms around his neck, amazed at his strength.

It didn’t last long. After a few seconds, I heard his breathing turn ragged and felt him shudder inside me, and a few seconds later his penis slipped out of me and he let me down to the floor.

‘Sorry,’ he said. ‘Proper knee-trembler, that one. God, you’re so sexy, I couldn’t have carried on longer even if I wasn’t worried about getting caught.’

I straightened my clothes hastily. ‘I’m still worried about getting caught.’

‘We won’t,’ he promised. ‘I won’t let that happen to you. Trust me.’

‘I do trust you,’ I said, wondering even as I spoke whether that was true.

And then he said, ‘We should get back to work.’

The memory made me shiver, although the day was already warm. I could feel the Lucy I’d been then, somewhere inside me still, shy and awkward and unsure how to interpret men and their actions, but at the same time longing to be worthy of a man, the way other women were.

I didn't feel that way any more, I realised. Although I was single, I didn’t care if I stayed that way – I didn’t need a man in my life to be happy and fulfilled. But, thanks to Adam and all the men who’d poured their problems and their secrets out to him, I was starting to understand men a bit more. I even liked some of them. Especially Ross. Our friendship might be recent, but it meant a lot to me. I couldn’t remember ever having had a close male friend before, and now it looked as if I did. But why did it feel as if friendship wasn’t really what I’d hoped for from him?

But I didn’t like Zack. Obviously.

In the heart of the financial district, I found the building where he worked – a glass tower among a sea of other glass towers, all so tall they gave me a crick in the neck when I looked at them. I loitered on a corner and watched men and women in suits, laptop bags slung over their shoulders, coffees and mobile phones in their hands, hurrying in through the glass doors into the vestibule, then on towards the rank of elevators that would take them up to the desks where they’d spend the day doing mysterious things with spreadsheets.

But even if I was lucky enough to spot him going into the building, it wouldn’t help – I couldn’t exactly follow him, and even if I could all I would find would be him sitting blamelessly at his desk, going into meetings and chatting to colleagues round the water cooler. Even if there was something going on with him and this other woman, they were hardly likely to sneak off for a shag in between answering emails.

So I turned away and headed off on the itinerary Ross had planned out for me. I looked at the Stock Exchange building and the Oculus building and the 9/11 memorial, remembering the seriousness on his face when he said I should see it. Then I made my way by subway to the Metropolitan Museum of Art, but I didn’t go in – I just joined the crowds of tourists perched on the stairs, and had a bit of a rest, wishing that my sister was sitting there next to me, imaging her remarking that art gallery shops were always far better than the art gallery itself.

I bought a giant, salty pretzel and ate it in Central Park, and wandered round there for a bit, before heading down Fifth Avenue, stopping to gaze into shop windows but again not going into any. I did go into the Empire State Building, though, all the way to the top, where I admired the dizzying views all around me and took a selfie to send to Ross.

What with that, and the notes he’d put on the app that made me giggle, it felt almost as if he was there with me, exploring his home city with me, telling me stories about growing up there, where he’d been to school, where he’d learned to play baseball, where he’d thrown a ball for the family dog to chase.

I wished I knew more about his childhood, so I could imagine it better. Better still, I wished he was actually there, being a real tour guide instead of a virtual one.

But he wasn’t. And I needed to find another man, one who actually was.

So I got the subway back to Wall Street, and by five forty-five, I was back on my corner outside Zack’s office, where I waited. And waited, and waited. A few people trickled out through the glass doors, but many more were still going in, presumably returning from high-powered off-site meetings to go back to their desks and carry on working.

I’d made a serious miscalculation, I realised. Zack didn’t get paid the big bucks to knock off work after eight hours like a normal person. I didn’t know what to do. I walked round the block – another error of judgment, because obviously if he was going to leave work at a sensible hour, he was bound to do it in the few minutes when I wasn’t watching the door – then waited another half-hour, then eventually gave up and got the subway back to Brooklyn, tired and hungry and frustrated.

My initial plan was no good. I was going to have to come up with a better one.

TWENTY-FOUR

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