Let Me Stay

“I don’t have any clean clothes here,” I say, remembering that everything I had on is covered in beer and cherry juice.

“I washed and dried everything but the shirt. It is still soaking in the laundry room.”

“You did?” I ask in amazement. I didn’t know men did laundry. I am pretty sure neither my dad nor my brothers even know where the washing machine is at home. He just keeps surprising me.

“Of course. I knew I wanted to take you out today, and I did not want any excuses as to why I could not.” He grins, leaving the room coming back seconds later with clothes in his hands. He mixed our things together, and there is something so domestic and romantic about that.

“Thank you,” I say, stripping his shirt off. He stares at me while I get dressed. I slide my now clean panties on, followed by my bra. I pull on my skirt, and look through the pile left on the bed, for a shirt of his to borrow. I find a bright blue button-up shirt that is a little too tight in the arms and too long in the torso. I make the arms work and tie the ends up so that it looks like I am wearing it like this on purpose. “Sorry for the reverse peep show,” I say, heading out to the living room, letting him get dressed in peace.

“Not a problem at all,” he calls loud enough for me to hear in the living room. I laugh as I step into my still gross Converse. Digging around in my purse, I find a hair tie and pull my messy hair up into a bun. I am just about to look at my ignored phone when he comes into the living room; my mouth drops open.

I have seen him in a suit, naked, and in just boxers. But this takes the cake. He’s wearing a pair of dark blue jeans that look as if they were designed especially for him and a tight black t-shirt that shows off his muscles. My mouth is actually watering, and I do not know what to do.

“Where are you taking me?” I ask after swallowing hard.

“A little pub in Brooklyn,” Brendan says, taking my hand in his.

“Brooklyn?” I question as we exit the apartment and get into the elevator. Inside, I have to keep my cool because standing there with her new husband is Mallory Goranson, my favorite author.

“Mal Squared,” Brendan says, shaking hands with Malachi.

“Hey, Brendan. Who’s this?” Mallory asks.

“This is my girl, Brynn. Brynn, this is Mallory.”

“Oh, my God. I know,” I squeal, losing any semblance of cool. “I just read your new book, When the Time Comes. I am your biggest fan. I am sure that you hear that all the time,” I gush.

“I do, but can I tell you a secret?” she asks, leaning in conspiratorially. I nod like a lunatic. “I fucking love it,” she says, causing me to laugh.

“You are even cooler than I thought,” I tell her honestly.

“I am gonna like you, Brynn,” Mallory says. “We are up on the twenty-ninth floor if you wanna grab a coffee or something,” she says like it is totally normal for a celebrity to invite a stranger into their home.

“Oh sure,” I say, not knowing what else to say. They exit the elevator first, and I look at Brendan. “Oh my God,” I say rather loudly.

“What?”

“She is famous, Brendan. Famous-famous,” I tell him like he doesn’t know that. I take a deep breath to calm down. Meeting your idol never really goes how you think it will. This went so much better than I ever imagined. I didn’t pass out, for one thing, I think wryly.

“She is really nice,” he says, shrugging. “I never really thought of her as famous, though I know that she is.” Taking the elevator down to the basement parking garage, we walk to the left of the elevator. He pushes a button on his key chain, and a private stall opens up like a garage door. He opens the passenger door of his white Range Rover for me, and I hop in. We let go of each other’s hand as a necessity, but as soon as he gets in the car, his hand finds mine again.

“So, Brooklyn?” I ask again, buckling my seatbelt. My iPhone is still in my hand, so I flip it over and let my face unlock it. Three missed calls from an unknown number and a Facebook message from my mom. I answer that and ignore the calls. I don’t know how my stalker knows that I am back in the city, but you know what? I don’t care. I am happy for the first time in I don’t know how long, and I am going to keep chasing this feeling. Keep chasing him.