Imaginary Lines (New York Leopards 3)

“You know how to play?” He tugged me gently after him, straight through the crowd of other twelve—and thirteen-year-olds until we stood in the place of honor at the front of the line. I was peripherally aware of some of the glances, but I was almost solely consumed by Abraham.

“I’m not really sporty,” I confessed rapidly as we faced off and the DJ started going over the rules.

“Don’t worry,” he said, at ease and comforting. “We got this.”

And we did.

Of course, that might have had something to do with Abe being the bar mitzvah boy, but it didn’t matter to me.

“Coke!” the DJ yelled, and Abe and all the kids in his line dropped to their knees, I bolted across the floor, competitive spirit rising with my determination not to be last. I skidded the final foot and dropped down onto Abraham’s thigh, clutching at his shoulders with both hands to keep steady. I looked about frantically, hoping I hadn’t been the slowest.

I hadn’t. Down the row, one girl scowled at her partner as the DJ declared them out. Delighted, I grinned widely at Abe, and he returned it.

That first time I sat on his bent knee I thought my heart would burst out of my chest. When he sat on mine, I burst into giggles, and he joined in with a shout of laughter. Soon we were both sprinting back and forth and I didn’t even care when I slipped and fell.

At the end, the DJ crowned us with green-and-purple jester hats made out of felt, and I hugged Abe impulsively—possibly the first impulsive hug of my life. He returned it, and in that moment I felt my heart slip out of my chest.

* * *

I spent the afternoon in a daze, reliving Abraham’s visit in intense, memorable detail. I could feel the press of his body against mine, the intimacy of his lips, the caress of his hands. I could recall the way he made me feel, the way I felt even now with only memories to subsist on—and even the memories, ghosts of reality, were more arousing then any of my other experiences.

I took myself over to Prospect Park for a long walk, despite the unnaturally freezing temperatures. I wrapped my scarf tightly around my chin and mouth. Each breath I let out seemed to condense and freeze on the purple yarn, and I could hardly feel my nose. My eyes watered as the icy air tore at them.

The films had lied about the northeastern wind. It carried no friendliness, no playful attitude as it tugged on my scarves and my hat. The wind carried no personality, no charm, but rather brutally assaulted me as I struggled through the trees. Implacable. Unyielding. It stung my cheeks with ice-cold gales, pressing against my lungs until I couldn’t gather the air to cough. The leaves that I had seen dance in Hollywood movies like animated fairies come to life were instead powered by relentless cyclones.

When I reentered my apartment, I once again found all three roommates in the living room. I grabbed a glass of water and tossed my purse into my room. “Hey, guys.”

Lucy stated the obvious with little provocation. “That was fucking Abe Krasner.” Her voice lowered with conviction. “You’re fucking Abe Krasner.”

I was not ready, in any shape or form, to deal with this. “No, I’m not.” I smiled to cover my embarrassment. Because it could have been true. “He’s just an old family friend.”

Lucy arched an unconvinced brow. “A friend you’d like to fuck?”

Sabeen jabbed her. “Leave her alone. She’s over him.”

I puffed out my cheeks. “Yeah...”

They all stared at me.

I flopped down on the sofa. “I don’t really know what’s going on. He suggested dating.”

“Well,” Lucy said practically. “Maybe you’ll get him out of your system.”

I covered my eyes. “I’m not sure that’s possible. I think he’s part of my system.”

Lucy’s voice was crisp with decisiveness. “You just have to meet someone else.”

“Mm. Yes. Though meeting someone else is more sound in theory than in practice.”

Lucy bounced in her seat. “I’ve been thinking about that. I’ve decided we should have a dinner party. Two weeks. November twelfth. Put it in your calendars.”

Sabeen nodded. “And I’m going out tonight, if any of you want to come.”

We all did. Sabeen’s friends—those same friends who’d had the rooftop party—were glad to see us.

I left early, because I had work the next day. But even though I was lying in my bed before midnight, it took much longer to finally fall asleep.

I dug my hands through my hair, wanting to rip strands from my head, to rend and wail. What the hell was I doing? Why was I doing this? I was making myself miserable. I wanted Abe so desperately. I wanted everything he promised. I wanted him to hold me, to laugh with me, to tell stories and kiss me and love me, and I wanted to do the same for him.