Page 93 of Brooklyn Cupid

My other hand slides under his pillow and bumps against something cold.

Something that doesn’t belong in a bed or under a pillow.

Something that shouldn’t even be in the apartment. Or owned by an accountant.

I rise, move the pillow aside, and stare at the object that doesn’t make sense.

A gun…

Fuck…

My mind starts spinning.

I never put the gun away, I realize. It’s not under my pillow but under my mattress. Still…

My stomach turning in unease, I keep reading.

John says he works as an accountant at a big firm. But I went to the office building he mentioned, to his company’s front desk. There is no person by his name working for them.

Phew. Maybe it’s just her wild imagination?

My eyes dart along the chapter.

Damn, Em thinks her roommate is a secret agent, but that seems only to intrigue her more.

And her attraction deepens.

Lust is contagious. Fantasies are a drug. I’m addicted, and my biggest drug is the guy who lives fifty feet across from my room.

When he’s there, I can hear him. Or in the kitchen, opening the fridge at night. Padding to the terrace. Talking on the phone.

Stopping by my door at night…

My breath hitches when I hear his soft footsteps behind it.

I lie in my bed, catching every sound, imagining what it would be like if he just walked in and saw me like this.

Naked.

Soaking my sheets with my longing.

With my hand between my legs as I think about him.

God fucking help me!

Is everything about this new character gonna look and sound like me?

I don’t know what’s happening, I’m not a writer, but you don’t attach sexual fantasies to a person you don’t like romantically, right?

I could ask Roey, but his answer is always the same—we are just smart animals but with the same needs and instincts.

He is a lady’s man, a hump-her-then-dump-her guy, the charmer, the live-like-it’s-your-last-day guy. Granted, serving at war will drill the latter into your brain. He believes sex is a physical necessity, and if he were to die, he’d happily do that buried in some hottie.

Me, I believe sex is a special intimate connection. And I’ve never had anyone special in my life.

So, there. I’m not embarrassed about being inexperienced with women. Experience can give one confidence and certain validation, sure, but doesn’t change who one is.

So I keep reading. I pay attention to the plot, but it’s the main character’s thoughts and feelings that I reread, every line in the book resonating with my heart.

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