Getting Her Back

“Sometimes,” he says, “but it’s also nice to learn the construction aspect of the architecture. I think having experience on the ground is valuable when trying to design a building practically.”

“Yeah, for sure. That’s a great way to break in. Not that I would know anything about it,” I laugh.

He laughs too. “So if you don’t like your job, what would you rather be doing it?”

I blush because it feels like a really personal question, but he has no reason to know that. “Well, I always wanted to be an artist,” I say, taking another sip, “but that didn’t work out.”

“Why not?”

I shrug, looking away. “Family. Lack of talent. timing. Take your pick.”

“Well if that’s what you want—if you still want it—you should do it anyway.”

“I still do some art. Just not…publicly.”

He moves a fraction closer. “I’d love to see it sometime.”

I raise an eyebrow, but I’m smiling. “Let’s see how the rest of the night goes before I make any promises.”

Christian laughs again, this one loud and genuine. “That’s fair.”

He moves on to a different subject, and just like we agreed, we knock out the first date topics: music, movies, family, work, hobbies, last names. And then we’re on our third or fourth drink and I realize that we’ve been talking for hours and I don’t feel like there’s an end in sight. Nothing about him has given me pause, and we have enough similarities to be compatible and enough differences to keep it interesting.

We’ve move closer to each other over the course of the last few hours, until we’re close enough to touch, but we’re still barely apart. We’re laughing, and I pull away to finish the last of my drink. When I turn back, Christian’s face is right there, and he’s looking at my lips. “Audrey,” he says, “I would very much like to kiss you.”

My breath catches, and I only pause for a second before I press my lips to his. Then his hands are on me, slipping around my waist to pull me closer and I loop my arms around his neck. He kisses like fire, passionate and burning, urgent. God, the heat that runs through me is like nothing I’ve ever felt before. I’ve never been kissed like this.

We break apart for breath, and Christian’s eyes meet mine. He looks awed, like this is more than he expected too. “You know how this afternoon you said you never did that? Asked people out?” I ask.

“Yeah.”

“Well,” I say, swallowing, “I never do this, but I would like to ask you to come home with me. Unless you think that will ruin this.”

Christian shakes his head. “I’m on new ground here too, but I don’t think it will ruin it.”

“Me either,” I say, laughing and relieved.

He kisses me again, soft and slow, filled with hunger and promise. “Then let’s go.” After paying our bill, Christian keeps me close, arm around my waist as we leave the bar, and we lose ourselves in another kiss while we wait for a cab.

16

The next two days I spend with an anxious feeling brewing in my gut. I don’t talk to Christian, other than to confirm that we’ll be going to the apartment after class. It feels weird not to talk about what happened. Because something did happen. I’m nervous about talking to him about it, but I’m going to go crazy if I don’t.

On top of that, I took a pregnancy test, and I’m still not pregnant. I know it’s only the first month of trying, but it’s still a disappointment. All I can do is keep trying. That is, if Christian is still willing to do that after tonight. I hope so. I don’t know what I’ll do otherwise.

The only upside to this state of mind is that the time passes quickly. I get through the day by getting lost in my work and before I can blink the workday is over and I’m heading to class. I manage to smile at Christian when I get to the studio, but I arrive late enough that we don’t speak. He’s already climbing onto the platform and I’m not sure I’m going to make it through the next three hours, completely focused on his body. But I try.

I look at the details, and I fill them out. Slowly, I’m pouring him into the drawing, and he comes to life on the page. To the point where I think this could almost be finished. Maybe. I don’t know if this would be the one I choose to display, given our relationship and the fact that my family will be at the gallery show, but I’m happy with it. Maybe I could give it to Christian, the way he gave me his drawing. There’s a scrape behind me, and I turn to see Mr. Prince observing.