Page 132 of New York Love Stories: Vol. 1

“Friends. Yes. I like this dating plan.”

“It’s not a dating plan. It’s just friends going on a . . . ugh. I mean going out. Hanging out. Platonically. Now I’m getting confused. Platonically.” She says that last word again, and then asks, “Is that even a word? Why does it sound strange and taste so weird?Platonically.”

“Platonically. It sounds weird to my ears now too.” When I yawn, and my eyes dip closed longer than is acceptable for standing on a street having a definition-defining conversation about a word, she tugs me by the sleeve of my jacket. “As fun as this is, as your friend, I think you should go home.”

Tapping the tip of her cute nose, I admit, “I don’t disagree.”

“All right. Since you’re drunk and wearing a Rolex and a designer suit on the street, Rascal and I will just make sure you get home safely.”

“This is a first.”

“Guess there’s always room for another.” Now that we’re standing in the middle of the sidewalk again, she looks around. Unsettled, she asks, “Where do you live?”

My head bobs to the right. “Right here.”

Her smile is honest and unassuming, unlike her eyes that seem to protect her secrets.

What am I doing?“I used to hold my liquor better.” When she looks at the building, I study her profile, tracing the slightest of slopes down her nose to the peaks of the bow at the top of her lips. She really is quite attractive.

Puffing a breath, she sends strands of hair flying into the air in front of her, only for them to return and fall back in her face. Out of the corners of her eyes, she looks at me. “Let’s get you home. It’s past Rascal’s bedtime, and I have a feeling it’s past yours as well.”

Before we reach the door, I stop her. My fingers slide up the back of her arm while my gaze remains glued to her face—the sharp lines that lead from the apples of her cheeks to her cute little chin. “I think that’s a good idea, but I also think I should make sure you get home safely.”

“I’ll be fine. Don’t worry. I live really close, and I have Rascal to protect me.”

Gil swings the door open, smiling as usual. “Good evening.”

Just inside the door, she says, “Good evening.” Turning back, I look at her, realizing she’s not wearing any makeup. She’s fresh-faced, and her hair is messy but beautiful as always. Words don’t come easy as I take her in.

But with a clearing of Gil’s throat, I step farther into the lobby as she stands just outside the door, an invisible barrier keeping us apart. Gil scratches his head as confusion rattles his expression. “Is everything all right?”

Juni scoops Rascal into her arms and then catches up to me. “Hey, I know you’ve been drinking, but I don’t want you to forget about our plans.”

I punch the button and then stop with my back to the elevator. “To hang out?”

Her smile is sunshine, though it’s late at night. “Yes, to hang out. Drink lots of water, okay?”

“I will.” Smiling, I say, “Thanks, friend.”

“Wait.” Grabbing her phone from her pocket, she asks, “What do you think about exchanging numbers? Then if we want to hang out or you need someone to protect you on your next drunken night out, you can text me.”

I pull mine from my pocket and tell her my number. A text pops onto the screen, cementing the smile on my face. She releases a breath, and then says, “We’ll talk soon.”

“Yeah,” I say, nodding as I back into the elevator. “Definitely. Good night, Juni.”

“Good night, Andrew.” The door closes, and I fall back on the wall, staring down at the screen. I decide to send her a text.How do you feel about tomorrow?

The door opens, and as I walk to my apartment, my phone buzzes in my hand. I stop to read her quick reply.I love Saturdays.

My fingers fly across the screen to respond:Me too. I don’t have plans. I was thinking if you don’t have plans, maybe we could not have plans together.

What is wrong with me? Why am I acting like a high school kid again? I really shouldn’t feel this good, considering what I’ve drunk tonight, but there’s just something about her I can’t put my finger on. Another text comes in, making me grin like I’m guilty as sin.

I am. Thoughts fill my head, and I let my imagination run free with the images of how dirty Juni and I could be. The heat from when we touched still pulses through my veins. Instead of going to bed, I grab a bottle of water and then detour to the bathroom. I’m definitely going to need a cold shower.

With the water running, I slip my jacket off and toss it onto the bed. Leaning against the marble counter with a ridiculous smile on my face, I think about the last text she sent.Sounds like a plan.

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