Page 13 of The Love Interest
“You want to buy me a drink? Now?”
“It’s kind of a tradition. Buying someone a drink when they’re new in town.”
“Well, that’s sweet, but it’s a little late for alcohol and I can’t drink any more coffee.”
He crosses his arms in front of his chest, nodding. Like this is some kind of negotiation. “Yeah, it’s too bad alcohol and coffee are the only beverages available in this city.”
“What did you have in mind? Because I’m mildly lactose intolerant, so a milkshake isn’t a great idea. Although I did once have a really intense sex dream about sharing a milkshake with Chachi after my mom made me binge watchHappy Dayswith her. So consequently, milkshakes have the potential to give me both diarrheaandorgasms. Which is the worst combination imaginable.”
Shit. Maybe he didn’t hear anything I said just now.
After staring at me for about infinity seconds, he finally deadpans, “Well, I’m more of a Fonzie, so it doesn’t sound like you could handle it.”
Wow. He’s funny-ish. And he’s seenHappy Days. Nice. Maybe this can happen.
“Okay, so…” Aaaaand he’s shutting down again.
“Right. I guess I should get home,” I tell him. Because I really should. For all kinds of reasons. Mostly to pick up my cock. And my wallet.
“Yeah, me too.”
We both walk in the same direction, up Houston.
After half a block of walking next to each other in silence, he keeps his gaze trained on the sidewalk in front of him and says, “Are you walking all the way home?”
“Yes. You?”
“Yes. You always walk around by yourself this late at night?”
“Yes. Why? Is the Lower East Side not a safe neighborhood?”
“It’s safe enough, but that doesn’t mean young women should walk around by themselves at this hour. There are a lot of drunk guys stumbling out of bars this time of night.”
“Should I be more wary ofthemthan seemingly sober guys who offer to buy strangers drinks at four thirty in the morning?”
“To be clear—Iamsober. I don’t offer to buy strangers drinks in general. And you should be wary of everyone who’s out and about at four thirty in the morning. Night owls are the worst.”
“You should be wary ofme, then. Been a night owl my whole life.”
“Trust me, I’m wary of you,” he says, jaw clenched, still looking straight ahead. “But I’m concerned for you too.”
“Well, I appreciate the concern, but first of all—maybe some of the people who are out and about are extremely early risers, not night owls. And secondly, I do have mace in my bag.” I say this just as I’m realizing I left the mace in my other purse too. “And a lot of pens. I’m not worried. I trust the universe.”
I catch the cynical East Coast eye roll. It’s subtle, but I caught it.
“Do you live around here too?”
“Yes. Little Italy. I used to live in the Lower East Side.” He stops in his tracks and waits for me to turn to face him before speaking again. “I should walk you home. I’m not trying to pick you up or anything. I just don’t like the idea of you walking around by yourself.”
“Well thanks, but I’m not exactly walking around. I’m walking home. I’m not an idiot.” Now my skin is getting all warm and prickly again, but I also sort of want to stab him with one of my pens. Seriously, whoisthis guy?
“I never implied that you’re an idiot. You just seem a little out of sorts.”
“Mostly because of you. I’m flustered byyou. Maybe if you left me alone, I’d feel less…confused.”
He blinks and then starts walking alongside me again. “I’m a little confused by you too. And conflicted. We seem to have gotten off on the wrong foot. Or a weird foot, at least, and I don’t know how to change that. But the offer still stands.”
Well.
