Eventually, when my breathing had returned to somewhat normal, he spoke in a low, hesitant voice. “You okay?”
My voice was scratchy. “I think so.”
His grip around me loosened, but he didn’t move away. Instead, he rested his head on top of mine. “You scared the shit out of me.”
I held my throat with one hand. “That was a terrifying feeling. I’ve never actually choked before.” For the brief moment of my impending doom, I’d completely forgotten what had made me choke. But it quickly came back to me. “You almost killed me.”
“Killed you? I think your brain was deprived of oxygen. I just saved your life, beautiful.”
“You made me choke. Who brings up masturbating with an almost stranger while eating lunch?”
“An almost stranger? I’ve seen you in your underwear, bailed you out of prison, and given you a place to park your ass all day long. Pretty sure I’m your best friend in town at this point.”
I whipped around and stared at him. “Maybe I don’t need to masturbate anyway. Maybe I have a boyfriend who takes care of those needs.”
Drew smirked. Not smiled. Smirked. “If that’s the case, and you’re still having trouble sleeping after he takes care of you at night, then dump his ass because he sucks in bed.”
“And I suppose all of your women are fast asleep after you take care of them.”
“Damn straight. I’m like a superhero. The Prolactinator.”
This man had the uncanny ability to make me laugh in the middle of an argument. I snorted as I leaned over to clean up my sandwich from the floor. “Okay, Prolactinator. How about you use your superpowers to help clean up this mess?”
After the lunch debacle was straightened, I offered to help Drew unpack his boxes. He had a cordless drill in the first one we opened, and he hung some of his fancy-framed degrees while I unwrapped things and cleaned them off. Our conversation was light and easy until he asked me the question I always dreaded answering.
“So you never told me the other day, what brought you to New York?”
“It’s a long story.”
Drew looked at his watch. “I have twenty minutes until my next consult. Shoot.”
For a brief moment, I considered making up a story so I didn’t have to tell the truth. But then I figured, this guy has seen me at my worst—he helped me keep out of jail and witnessed firsthand that I could be sold the proverbial Brooklyn Bridge in the form of Park Avenue real estate. So I went with honesty.
“My first year of college, I wasn’t sure what I wanted to major in. I took a Psychology 101 class, and the professor was amazing. But he was also a drunk who often missed classes or came in with ten minutes left in the lecture. He had a TA who was from New York but working on his doctorate at the University of Oklahoma, and he wound up teaching a lot of the course. The TA was Baldwin.”
Drew dumped a pile of files into a cabinet and shut it, turning to face me. “So you moved to New York to be near this Baldwin guy? I thought you said the other day he didn’t return the feelings you have?”
“He doesn’t. Baldwin and I became good friends over the next four years. He had a girlfriend he lived with—an art history major who modeled on the side.” I rolled my eyes thinking of Meredith—she was so full of herself. “He stayed at the college to teach after he finished his doctorate, and then decided to move back to New York to start his own practice and teach here. We kept in touch while I did my graduate work, and he pretty much helped me write my thesis over Skype for a year.”
“Are we getting to sex or something good in this story soon? Because Baldwin’s starting to bore the shit out of me.”
Drew was next to me, opening the last box, and I shoved at his arm. “You’re the one who wanted to hear the story.”
“I thought it would be more interesting,” he teased with a cocky smile.
“Anyway. I’ll sum up so I don’t put you to sleep—”
Drew interrupted. “No worries. I’m not sleepy. Didn’t masturbate this morning.”
“Thanks for sharing that. Do you want me to finish or not?”
“Of course. I don’t know why, but I’m anxious to hear what’s wrong with Baldwin.”
“Why do you assume something’s wrong with him?”
“Gut feeling.”
“Well, you’re wrong. There’s nothing wrong with Baldwin. He’s a great guy who’s extremely intelligent and cultured.”
Drew put his hands on his hips and stopped unpacking to give me his full attention. “You said he had a girlfriend for four years. I take it they broke up?”
“Yes. They broke up right before he left to come back to New York.”
“And he didn’t make a move on you, knowing you were in love with him?”