On a Tuesday

by Whitney G.

  “Who is it?”

  “Miss Cookies and Books.” He smiled. “Shall I put on some coffee?”

  I ignored his comment and headed to the door. When I opened it, Charlotte was standing there in another sexy gray dress and a pair of blue heels.

  “Yes?” I looked her up and down and was instantly turned on.

  “I um ...” Her cheeks turned red as she handed me a pink box. “This is for you.”

  “My birthday is next month.”

  “It’s not a birthday present,” she said. “My parents came up from my hometown this afternoon. It’s this place called New Brighton with a couple of thousand people. It's like three hours away, so they bring me stuff all the time.”

  I raised my eyebrow, completely confused by what she was trying to say.

  “Anyway ...” She was still blushing. “I asked them to stop at this place called Harlow’s because I noticed you always eat donuts whenever we’re out, so I figured you might want to try what the best ones in the world taste like.”

  “You came all the way to my apartment to bring me donuts?” This was a first.

  “Harlow’s donuts.” She narrowed her eyes at me. “They’re nothing like other donuts. I also came up here to personally thank you for the skybox season pass. I’m assuming the delivery I received today was from you?”

  “It was.”

  “Well, thank you very much.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  She bit her bottom lip, and I leaned against the doorframe. "Is that all?"

  “No, um. I also wanted to tell you that I’ve enjoyed the past few weeks with you at study sessions, especially since we always stay after and talk for a long time. So, I think we can officially be close friends.”

  “I think we can be more than close friends.”

  "Just friends will suffice."

  “For now.”

  “Forever.” She smiled and stepped back. “See you later, Grayson.”

  I watched her walk away—half aroused, half confused as hell. I returned to the kitchen and set the box on the counter.

  “She’s not coming in?” Kyle asked. “I was about to brew the coffee.”

  “I’m sure you were.”

  “What’s in the box, then?” He pointed. “My guess is your balls. Thank God she was nice enough to return them before the end of the season.”

  I held back a laugh and flipped open the box, revealing a dozen strawberry sprinkle donuts with her phone number written on each one in white frosting.

  GRAYSON: NOW

  Present Day

  New York City

  SUBJECT: M.I.A?

  Grayson,

  I called you three times this week, and I've sent you eight emails. Can you please let me know where you stand on the proposal Nike sent over last week? Also, what did you mean when you said you're not going anywhere this summer until you address some "other business?"

  Are you signing deals behind my back?

  —Anna

  SUBJECT: TMZ

  A photog caught a grainy image of you walking out of a brownstone across town not too long ago. They’ve posted the image with speculation that you were there to meet a realtor for a new place to stay.

  Let me know what you want to tell them about that.

  PS—I know you said you're not interested in dating anyone from the fashion world "ever again," but I spoke with supermodel Isabelle Kline's agent and she's staging a major comeback this year. Would you mind having a few staged dates with her? Just for good press to help her out? (It would also add a bit of color to your image when it comes to your dating life, don't you think?)

  —Anna

  I GROANED AND TURNED off my phone. Since the day Charlotte stood me up, I was dodging all aspects of my professional career until I got to the bottom of her disappearance. I was turning down every interview, every meeting with sponsors, and I didn’t want to speak to anyone from the NFL. Well, except for the person I was meeting tonight.

  I locked my phone in my glove compartment and stepped out of my car, heading into my team’s sports complex. Holding up my access card for the doors, I stopped and signed an autograph for the new security guard.

  "Congratulations, Mr. Connors." He held up his hand for a high-five. "Any chance you're considering chasing a three-peat next season?"

  “Of course.” I slapped his hand. “That’s the only option.”

  “Your guest is in the restaurant waiting,” he said. “I told him you were running late.”

  “Thank you.” I headed to the locker room and grabbed my MVP trophy, carrying it with me upstairs.

  "Here I was thinking that you were going to be an adult about this." Kyle stood up as I approached, adjusting his cufflinks. "I should've known better."

  “You should’ve.” I plopped the trophy in the center of the table. “Two years in a row of beating your team in the playoffs and winning MVP. I wouldn’t be a good best friend if I didn’t take this opportunity to share my victory with you. This isn’t just mine, you know. It’s for the both of us.”

  “Fuck you, Grayson.” He laughed and took a seat. “I would tell you congratulations, but you don’t deserve it.”

  “Thank you.” I motioned for the waitress to bring a fresh bottle of wine to the table.

  Ever since we were drafted into the NFL, we made it a point to meet over dinner at the end of every season. No matter which of our teams fared better, the menu was always the same: Steak, bottles of wine, a short walk down memory lane.

  While I spent most of my time off the field investing in small companies here or there, Kyle was now the face of Ralph Lauren, Reebok, and Gatorade. With his increasing layers of fame, he’d become far more restrained with women than he was in college. For the most part.

  “Grayson?” He waved his hand in front of my face. “Grayson, are you there?”

  “Huh?”

  "We've been sitting here ten minutes, and you haven't started gloated about your historic performance in the Super Bowl yet. If we go five more minutes, I may have to check for a pulse."

  “Sorry.” I sipped my wine. “I was thinking about something.”

  “Something other than your win?”

  “It’s Charlotte.”

  He let out a long sigh and picked up his glass, drinking it in one gulp. Then he poured himself a shot of whiskey.

  “It’s been seven years, and she hasn’t even sent you a birthday card." He seethed. "She disappeared for no reason—leaving you wrecked for God knows how long, and you have no idea where she is currently. I understand that you were hurt for the first couple years, but it's way past time for you to let her go."

  “She’s here in New York.”

  He uncorked a new bottle of wine and drank straight from the rim.

  “I saw her at the reunion,” I said. “For some strange reason, she’s under the impression that I was the one who did something to break us up.” I looked him square in the eye. “Are you sure you didn’t say anything to her our senior year?”

  “Jesus Christ.” He kept his voice calm. “For the umpteenth time, I would’ve never stepped in between you and Charlotte, and I highly doubt you would’ve let me. The fact of the matter is that she ghosted you. Period. I don’t care what crazy excuse she’s made up in her mind about it after all this time. The last thing I remember saying to her was, ‘See you at the draft party in New York.' The very same party where you were going to ask her to marry you." He shook his head. "You were too young to get married anyway, and you dodged a bullet, so it was good she didn't show up."

  The waitress set our steaks down and replaced the wine before stepping away.

  “Let’s talk about something else,” I said.

  “Gladly. Tell me about the championship parade plans, since I won’t be caught dead watching it.”

  I laughed and ran down the list of over the top things my team had planned. I told him about my predictions for next season and listened as he told me about his desire to play for another foot
ball team. We swapped stories about our endorsement deals, laughed at our agents' Type A personalities, and by the time we finished, it was three in the morning.

  “Shit,” he said. “I’ve got two hours to make it to the airport. I can’t believe I didn’t make you take me to the club while I was here. I wasted an entire day of my life on you.”

  “I feel the same way.”

  He laughed and extended his hand. "So, when will you see Charlotte again?"

  I shrugged, attempting to be nonchalant. “What makes you think I plan on seeing her again?”

  “Because I know you,” he said. “When?”

  This week. "In a few weeks."

  “Will this meeting be taking place on a Tuesday?” He smiled.

  “Yeah.”

  “Figures. Is she married? Any kids? Still sexy as hell?”

  “No, not that I know of, and yes.”

  "Well, look. I'll never repeat this because a part of me will always hate her for leaving you the way she did, but if you ever end up with someone for the long-term who isn't Charlotte Taylor, I'll have to be honest and tell you that you're making the biggest mistake of your life." He paused. "But she better have a damn good reason for leaving you, never making contact, and hiding her whereabouts. I mean, come on. Seven years? Does she have any idea who the hell she was dating back then?”

  I laughed. “Thank you for your opinion, as always, Kyle.”

  “You’re more than welcome,” he said. “One last thing, though. Do me a favor when you meet up with her.”

  “Name it.”

  “Ask her why she never called you once.”

  CHARLOTTE: THEN

  Seven years ago

  Pittsburgh

  “I HATE SEAFOOD PLACES." I rolled over on my bed and held the phone against my ear. "Especially the ones where they let you pick your crab and cook it for you on the spot."

  Grayson’s deep laughter came over the line. “So, you’ve never actually tried seafood?”

  "No," I admitted. "But I've walked out of plenty of restaurants that serve it, so I'm going to trust my instincts and accept that it's terrible."

  He laughed again. “You should let me take you to one this weekend. I think I can change your mind.”

  “I’ll consider it.” I blushed. I was about to ask him which seafood restaurant he thought was the best, but my alarm clock rang.

  It’s six o’clock already? “Um. I have to go,” I said, sitting up. “I need to get ready for my morning class.”

  “You have a class that starts at seven?”

  “No, eight.” I stood up and slammed the snooze button. “But I have a ritual, remember? Hot shower, latte, newsstand stop, then class. If I don’t do those things in the exact order, my entire day falls apart.”

  “You left out your need to grab an overpriced bagel at Einstein’s,” he said.

  “That was implied.” I laughed. “So, I’ll talk to you later?”

  “You’ll see me. Today is a Tuesday.” His voice over the phone was beyond sexy. “I’ll see you later.”

  “See you later.” I ended the call and looked at the total time we’d talked. Seven hours for the eighth day in a row. The longest I’d ever talked to any guy on the phone.

  Smiling, I undressed and headed to the shower room. Turning on the cold water, I leaned back against the tile to make sure I was fully awake and sane. That I was not wishing that I could stay on the phone with Grayson for the rest of the day instead of going to class.

  I decided to make a list of ten reasons why he needed to remain in the friend zone, but by the time I finished my shower, I could only think of five. And the top three were “Because he’s Grayson Connors.”

  Still struggling to come up with another reason, I tugged on a pair of my favorite jeans and vowed to figure this out later. With twenty minutes to spare, I tossed my notebooks into my purse and took the steps to the lobby.

  I buttoned my blazer as I walked outside, stopping when I saw Grayson’s car parked right out front. Confused, I stepped closer.

  “What are you doing here?” I asked.

  “Giving you a ride to class. It’s at Posvar Hall, right?”

  “Yes, but ...” I didn’t move any closer. I just stared at him.

  Say you need to pick up your latte. Say you need to—

  “I picked up your latte,” he said, holding up a brown cup. Then he held up a white paper bag. “And your bagel.”

  There was no point in resisting his offer, so I gave in and got into his car.

  “Thank you.” I took the latte from his hands. “Do you have an eight o’clock class today as well?”

  “No.” He smiled and leaned over me, pulling the seatbelt over my shoulder. “I have someone I like, but since I also have the feeling that she’s going to try to make excuses for reasons why she shouldn’t give me a chance, I feel like I need to take a different approach.”

  “What’s your typical approach?”

  "I'm not sure," he said, steering his car onto the street. "I've never wanted a girlfriend before.”

  I blushed and looked out the window. I had no words to say to that.

  He dropped me off at Posvar Hall four minutes later, and as I stepped out, he gave me a smile that made butterflies flutter against my stomach.

  “Do you need a ride anywhere else before our tutoring session today?” he asked.

  "No." I crossed my arms, hiding a smile. "But you know, I don't think you need a peer tutor. Something tells me you would make A's without my help."

  “Are you quitting?”

  “No,” I said. “I just don’t think we need to call them ‘tutoring sessions’ anymore, especially since we only talk about your work for five minutes.”

  “So, does that mean I don’t need to bring my work anymore?”

  “I didn’t say that.” I shut his car door and laughed. “See you later.”

  CHARLOTTE: THEN

  Seven years ago

  Pittsburgh

  SOMETHING WAS WRONG with me. Something severe.

  That was the only plausible explanation as to why I was staring at my cell phone like a love-sick teenager, waiting for Grayson to call me tonight. I was now accustomed to hearing his voice at the end of every day, talking to him about anything and everything until sunrise.

  In addition to our never-ending phone calls, Grayson continued to pick me up every morning and take me to class—hot latte, sweet kiss, and bagel included. Our Tuesdays were still our best days—a set place and time to discuss his dreams about the NFL and my conflicting dreams for art and law. His game days, a perfect mix of football and dirty post-game kisses, were the highlight of my week (Even though I refused to admit it). I was finding it quite ironic that he was far more of a gentleman than all the guys I dated before, but even though he made it a point to kiss me like no other guy could at the end of every meet-up, I was still hesitant to label whatever we were doing as “dating.”

  My phone vibrated at exactly ten thirty, but before I could pick it up, Nadira swiped it off my desk.

  “Hello?” she answered, giving me an ‘I’m so tired of this shit’ look. “I’m aware that I’ not Charlotte, Grayson. I’m taking this call as her annoyed roommate.”

  I tried to take the phone away from her, but she overpowered me and moved across the room.

  “Here’s the thing,” she said to him. “I have two practical exams and a paper that I have to defend in the morning. I need my sleep, but whenever you call her, I end up staying up until sunrise because the two of you can’t seem to shut up.”

  I heard his deep laughter and a “My apologies” through the speakers.

  “Apology not accepted.” She walked over to my closet and pulled out a jacket. Then she tossed it to me. "Charlotte's phone is going to stay with me tonight, and it's going to remain off. If you want to talk to her, you can meet her in our lobby."

  He laughed again. “Tell her I’ll be there in ten minutes. Have a good night, Nadira.”

  �
��I definitely will now.” She ended the call and tossed my phone into her lockbox. “You’re welcome.”

  “What exactly am I thanking you for?”

  “I don’t know.” She pulled her sheets back and crawled into bed. “It sounded like the right thing to say at the time.”

  “I didn’t realize we were keeping you up.”

  “You still are.” She pointed to the door. “And to make matters worse, you always have the audacity to talk to me for an additional few hours and question his motives. I think it’s pretty clear that he likes you at this point.”

  “You don’t think Grayson just wants to fuck me?”

  "Of course he wants to fuck you, Charlotte." She looked at me like I was crazy. "Hell, if I were into women, I would want to fuck you—you're stunning. But I don't think that's all he wants, and I don't know any guy who would do as much as he's done if he only wanted sex. If that were the case, he would've given up when you made him work for your phone number."

  “So, you think he’ll eventually want us to be more than—”

  "No, no, no." She interrupted me and pointed to the door. "Hold that thought for discussion tomorrow. Your mouth is still moving, which means I'm still not sleeping."

  “Just one last—”

  “Out.” She tossed a pillow at my face. “Now.”

  I tossed it back at her and hit the lights on my way out. I took the elevator down to the lobby and saw Grayson’s SUV pulling into a spot across the street. Zipping my jacket, I stepped outside and walked over to him.

  “Hey,” I said. “Sorry about Nadira. I forget that she always needs a night of silence before her exams.”

  He didn’t say anything. He looked me up and down, and without a word, he pushed me against his car and pressed his mouth against mine.

  I wrapped my arms around his neck and shut my eyes as he kissed me breathless. I felt his cock hardening through his pants as he gripped my waist, and I couldn’t help but blush at the realization of how huge he was.