Page 17 of New York Love Stories: Vol. 1

Or maybe I’m overthinking this, and it’s not a master plan to get me into the bedroom, but she just has to use the bathroom.

I literally have no ideas when it comes to her, so her command about not getting any is technically working. And I’m not upset by that fact. It’s good to live by instinct, do what feels good and what comes naturally instead of being accountable to someone else’s deadline.

“That’s okay,” she says. “I know where it is.”

Oh, so yeah, definitely overthought that one. When she disappears into the other room, I stay on the couch and look around.

8:19.

Twiddling my thumbs, I start to wonder if Harrison and Tatum will barge in and ruin my night. Two hours ago, I would have welcomed the company, but now, I quite like the time alone with Natalie.

8:21.

I stand and walk to the open door of the terrace. Shoving my hands in my pockets, I think about the job with my dad and how happy he is that I’m joining the company.

8:22.

Taking the bar exam in three months will solidify his offer. Until then, I can’t have a life. Embarrassing Corbin Christiansen is out of the question. So studying is my new pastime.

8:24.

It’s only been five minutes, but damn, I’m beginning to miss her. I should check on her. Cutting through the living room, I ask, “Everything okay?”

“Peachy.”

When I reach the doorway, I stop and grin. Lying on the bed with her ankles crossed and her hands behind her head as if she intends to stay awhile, she adds, “What took you so long?”

With a running start, I jump on the bed, causing her to bounce. Tucking my hands behind my head, I turn my head to face her. “I was trying to give you privacy.”

“Always the gentleman. It’s a great quality.” We lie next to each other for a few minutes, no words exchanged—no pressure, no expectations. She makes it easy to find peace in the quiet.

I can’t hear the hand on my watch ticking, but I feel every second of our time together. As if she can sense my nervous energy, she glances over at me. “Hope you don’t mind me resting. Day-drinking and stuffing myself with carbs was not the best idea I’ve had. Not if I intend to stay awake, that is.”

“What’s your worst?”

“My worst idea was when I left Carlton Klein alone in my room.”

I shift onto my side. “I’m going to need more details on that story.”

“I had the worst crush on him in tenth grade. He stopped by one day to get help with French . . .” She laughs. “I should have seen that one coming. We frenched all right. And then I went to the kitchen to get sodas, and when I returned, he was gone.”

“The kissing was that bad?”

“Him showing my panties to everyone who would look the next day was that bad.” Her eyelids dip closed, and brows pull together as if the pain still exists inside her. We’re lying here together like a line might have already been crossed, so I caress her cheek and gently try to ease the tension with the pad of my thumb.

Her skin is soft, and the rankle of her brow relaxes. She leans into it when she opens her eyes again. “He told everyone we had sex.” I can’t help but notice how shyness has crept into her tone, and it’s softened.

“I’m sorry that happened to you.”

“The girls didn’t believe him, but the guys did.” The little lines disappear, and a small smile emerges. “Silver lining was that no girl would go near him after that spectacle, and I never lacked for dates.”

“All’s fair in love and war.”

“Trust me, there was no love lost between us. We spent the next three years as mortal enemies. Last I heard, he went to Berkley to get as far from the city as possible. I hope he got the fresh start he was searching for.”

I pull my hand back, resting it between us. “Do you mean that?”

She nods. “We all deserve second chances. He used me to become popular. It backfired because the avenue he chose made him lose credibility. Lies would have done the trick. The prop made it a stunt. No girl would see that and think, ‘hey, that’s a guy I’d like to date.’ Nope. All they imagine is their panties are the next on display.”

---