Eastern Lights (Compass 2)

“No.” She laughed and shook her head. “I think the best way for me to fall in love with you is just being around you.”

This time it was my turn to blush like the schoolboy I had been.

“You’re a smooth talker, Red.”

“It’s only because I want you to fall in love with me.”

Dammit, Red…it’s working.

5

Aaliyah

We stopped for coffee before arriving at the bar where we’d begun. The club was already closed, and the only people left inside were the workers cleaning up. My heart dropped a bit the moment I realized we were locked out, but it began skipping again when Captain pulled out his cell phone and made a call.

“Hey, Tommy! It’s me. Yeah, I’m outside the bar. I left my keys inside. Can you let me in?” He paused, then bit his bottom lip. He got a little shy, and that was adorable. “No, Tommy. I’m not going to have sex on the rooftop.” Pause. “I know! Okay, what about this: I’ll give you those season tickets for next season we were talking about two weeks ago.” Pause. “Yes, okay. Fine—but only if you promise to let me go to one game with you.” Pause. “Thank you kindly, sir. We have a deal.”

Within seconds, Tommy stood in front of the door, unlocking it for us to get in. “I can’t believe you left your keys here,” he said. “You should be letting yourself in.”

Captain leaned in and kissed his cheek repeatedly before smacking his bum. “I know. Stupid mistake. Thanks, Tommy!”

“Yeah, yeah. I’ll probably be gone before you tonight, so will you lock up?”

“You got it.”

Captain took my hand and pulled me through the now empty space. As we moved forward, it felt odd having no one around us after being in a packed room before. It was just another example of how our time that night was running out; our clock fading to black.

He took me to the office where I’d met Tommy earlier and grabbed his keys from the desk. He also grabbed the jacket hanging on the back of the door and placed it over my shoulders.

“Ready?” he asked.

“Time-out—why would you have keys to this place? And why would he let you lock up? What am I missing?”

“Oh.” He rubbed the back of his neck and shrugged. “I own the building.”

“I’m sorry, what?!”

He smirked, and his dimple deepened as he took my hand. “Come on, let’s go.”

We began our hike up the staircase, and my chest felt tight halfway up the stairs. I hated how winded I got. I knew I wasn’t in the best shape, but I felt as if my heart was racing faster than normal. I took more breaks than I was proud of, but Captain didn’t judge me. When I stopped my steps, he stopped his, too.

“I need to get back to the gym,” I joked three-fourths of the way up the stairs. I rested my hand against my chest, feeling my heartbeats intensifying. Each breath was deeper than the one before. He stayed patient with me. He even slowed his steps when we moved up the stairs.

As we reached the top, we found a spot to sit, facing the sunrise, waiting for the beginning of the end of us. I tried to control my inhalations to bring them back to a normal speed. I wanted to speak, but I knew I wouldn’t be able to until I gathered myself.

When that time came, I looked over at Captain. “So…you own this building?”

“Yeah, this one and a few others,” he said nonchalantly as if it was a normal thing for a twenty-five-year-old to say.

“I’m sorry, what? You own buildings plural? What exactly do you do for a living?”

“Oh…a lot of different things.”

And there goes my heart rate increasing again.

“That sounds like something someone in the mafia would say, and if I just spent the evening with someone in the mafia, I’m truly going to rethink all of my life choices. Oh my goodness, have you killed someone before? Are you a murderer?”

He cocked an eyebrow. “If I were, do you think I would tell someone I’d just met?”

Fair enough.

He must’ve noted my low level of fear because he laughed. “I run my own real estate company and am an investor. I’ve been working my ass off since I moved to New York when I turned eighteen, and let’s just say it paid off.”

“Holy crap. Are you rich?”

He snickered. “Being rich is such a hard thing to claim. What makes someone rich, anyway?”

“Do you have over a million dollars in your bank account?” I asked bluntly. His hesitation was enough of a response for me. “Holy crap! You’re rich!”

“It’s not a big deal.”

“Says the rich guy. Oh, my gosh, I can’t believe you had me buy your drinks tonight! And your chicken wings!”

“Hey now! I offered to pay!”