The One I Want
“Rascal. He’s on concrete. Wouldn’t he like grass better?”
She looks at him sitting contently by her side and then at me again. “Who wouldn’t?” she says, thumbing over her shoulder. “That’s why I took him to the park.”
Looking past her, I don’t see any grass. “Is that safe at night?”
“It has been so far, but I guess you never know.” She lifts her wrist to show something dangling from it. “I also carry pepper spray.”
The alcohol catches up with me, and I lean against one of the stone columns dividing the windows. “Smart.” Looking down one side of the street and then the other, I ask, “What are you doing here?”
“You’re nosy when you’re drunk. You know that, Andrew?” Despite her words, she doesn’t sound offended.
“Is that a compliment?”
I can admit that I earned that eye roll she gives me. “I’m trying to decide if it’s good or bad to see you in this state.”
“I’m better in California, if you know what I mean, but . . .” I raise my arms out. “I’m stuck here in New York for the next two years.”
That gets her laughing. “I don’t know what you mean, but I meant your condition.” Her hand gestures down and then up again. “Your body’s physical state, not the geographical location.”
I narrow my eyes, but then I widen them again, preferring the view of all of her better. “Ah, so you were checking me out.”
“Oh my God,” she says, sighing, but I hear the lightness in her tone. “You’re a handful—”
“More than, but it would be rude to brag.”
“Too late.” Coming closer, she lowers her voice. “I’m thinking I should take you home.”
“Great minds think alike.”
She doesn’t even try to restrain her laughter. “Do you remember when you accused me of flirting with you?”
“I thought it was the other way around?” Gil sits behind the counter and occasionally looks in our direction.
“Oh right.” She looks up at the stars, letting her gaze linger, and then to me again. “Anyway, your flirting doesn’t bother me. I actually like it, but I’m wondering what’s happening here.”
When my gaze slides back to Juni, I can practically see the questions filling her eyes. Questions lead to commitments, and that’s not something I can do. “I don’t know what to say. I don’t want to hurt your feelings.”
A soft hum is exhaled as if I just fed her the best thing she’s ever fucking tasted. I think . . . Yeah, I definitely need to readjust when she makes that sound twice.
Her reaction is unexpected and sexy as fuck. The tips of her fingers land on my stomach, and she drags them leisurely down two buttons as if we’re old friends. I shift, trying not to be so obvious, because fuck, it’s been a long time since I’ve slept with a woman. And she’s hot and funny in a quirky way and standing right here looking at me like she feels the same about me. Not the funny part, but the hot part I mentioned.
“I’m so relieved to hear you say that, Andrew. I was thinking we could hang out more often—”
“Four times this week is fairly often.”
“I was thinking we could hang out on purpose.”
Running my hand through my hair, I say, “I’m open to the idea. Continue.”
“Although the universe is doing a pretty darn good job, maybe we can make a plan.”
“Plan a date?”
“No, more like going out together without it being a date. Go out as friends.”
“Friends. Yes. I like this dating plan.”
“It’s not a dating plan. It’s just friends going on a . . . ugh. I mean going out. Hanging out. Platonically. Now I’m getting confused. Platonically.” She says that last word again, and then asks, “Is that even a word? Why does it sound strange and taste so weird? Platonically.”
“Platonically. It sounds weird to my ears now too.” When I yawn, and my eyes dip closed longer than is acceptable for standing on a street having a definition-defining conversation about a word, she tugs me by the sleeve of my jacket. “As fun as this is, as your friend, I think you should go home.”
Tapping the tip of her cute nose, I admit, “I don’t disagree.”
“All right. Since you’re drunk and wearing a Rolex and a designer suit on the street, Rascal and I will just make sure you get home safely.”
“This is a first.”
“Guess there’s always room for another.” Now that we’re standing in the middle of the sidewalk again, she looks around. Unsettled, she asks, “Where do you live?”
My head bobs to the right. “Right here.”
Her smile is honest and unassuming, unlike her eyes that seem to protect her secrets.
What am I doing? “I used to hold my liquor better.” When she looks at the building, I study her profile, tracing the slightest of slopes down her nose to the peaks of the bow at the top of her lips. She really is quite attractive.