Page 44 of My Book Boyfriend
Like that evening at the library.
It makes her blue eyes sparkle.
I push us along. “At least the body heat is keeping me warmer.”
“Do you want to come over for hot chocolate?” she asks. “We’ll have to be really quiet because Bella is sleeping, probably, but you did seem sad that the hot chocolate stall near Bryant Park was closed.”
“I’m always up for hot chocolate.”
As we reach Columbus Circle, a homeless man shouts out, “Baby, you need a man who can afford a limo. Don’t settle for less.”
Lily laughs and yells back, “I don’t know. I think a man willing to push me along on a bicycle is worth keeping.” She snuggles her head into my neck and whispers to me, “You get points for creativity and effort.”
Snuggles.I stand still. For a minute. I could climb a mountain, wheeling her along. I glance down at her, and she looks up at me. Questioning, asking. But also acknowledging that there’s some definite chemistry here.
I think I could kiss her. I lean my head down, and she seems to move her head closer.
No.
This will not end well.
I kiss the top of her head.
Like an idiot.
“Let’s get that hot chocolate,” I say gruffly.
“Look. They’ve restocked those Citi Bikes,” she says. “We can get a bike for me here.”
I like pushing her. But it makes sense. I hold the bike still, and she hops off. “Maybe you should return this one so you start the clock running again.”
I return my Citi Bike and take out another one as she also pulls one out of the slot. She gently slides her dress up. I should look away, but I don’t. Long, muscular legs in black tights.
I avert my glance and clear my throat. “Do you want my jacket? You could wrap it around.”
“It’s okay. It’s so dark anyway. Let’s go. I live on 88thStreet,” she says.
We zip up the path marked for bicycles on Central Park West. It’s empty enough at this hour that we can go side by side. I look over at her, and she smiles at me.
“Shush,”Lilysaysasshe slowly closes the door behind us. A table for two is right there. She puts our coats on a chair. To my left is a door, and there’s another door to my right that must be a closet. Bookcases cover almost every wall.
I take off my shoes, following her lead. A cat comes over to sniff me. That explains Aiden’s cat grass gift.
“Should I hang up the coats?” I open the closet door, and various posters fall out.
“Save Our Community Garden!” “People Before Profit.” “Community Over Corporations!”
I stare at them in silence.
“Oh.” She rushes over, picks them up, and shoves them back in the closet. “It’s not like it should be a surprise,” she whispers.
“No.” I pick some up from the floor. “I particularly like ‘Healthy Vegetables Over Profit!’”
“One of my five-year-olds made that. The marching carrots really add that extra emphasis.”
“You do know that we are including affordable housing units.”
“Like, five?” She shakes her head. “Versus the whole community that this garden creates. A place for the older people in our neighborhood to find friends, for families to grow their own vegetables, for teenagers to hang out in a safe environment? And it’s a false division. You can build affordable housing somewhere else. There are other lots in the city.”
