by Jo Adler
“That’s true,” I say, giving his leg another quick poke.
As the cab navigates traffic heading uptown, we ride in silence for a few minutes. I stare out the window at the blur of buildings and pedestrians and trees and pavement. Splashes of red and yellow, blue, black and green spin by the windows, lulling me into a meditative state. I think about the past few days: meeting Nick at Dirty Secrets; tumbling into bed with him; dealing with the phone number snafu; and the secret that I’ve been avoiding since our first kiss.
When we come to a stop at Forty-Second Street, I feel his hand on my thigh.
“Penny for your thoughts,” he says when I glance over.
I shift on the seat so I’m facing him more directly. “I want to tell you something.”
He laughs. “Good deal, because that’s why I asked what you were thinking about so seriously.”
I swallow hard. “It might be a little…” I take a breath; being this nervous is foreign territory and it feels more awkward than I remember. “…well, just a little weird. And I hope it won’t seem too creepy.”
“Maybe I need to give you more than a penny,” he jokes. “Is it about a crime?”
I shake my head.
“Are you an alien?” His eyes narrow. “Is this like an updated version of that old Tom Hanks movie where a blonde girl is really a mermaid?”
I smile. “That’s Splash,” I say. “With Daryl Hannah.”
He frowns. “I thought it was Tom Hanks.”
“It is Tom Hanks, silly boy.” I jab his leg again. “Daryl Hannah was the blonde mermaid.”
“Oh!” He giggles. “That was before I was born, so I don’t have all the credits memorized.”
I swat his leg. “Be kind, handsome. I may be older than you, but I’m not ready to be put out to pasture.”
“I know that,” Nick says. “And you already know that I like you being older. In fact, if somebody asked me to describe the perfect daddy, I’d give them a picture of you.”
“One that you painted yourself?” I ask.
He thinks about it for a moment. “That’s a great idea. You should pose for me sometime.”
“Yeah? I don’t know if I could sit still for that long.”
He makes a face. “Who said anything about sitting? I’d probably have you stretch out on the bed.” He rubs his chin. “Or maybe the beach. In a pair of nice, tight black trunks.”
My cock jerks in my jeans. “Or not. We can debate the wardrobe details another time.”
“Exactly,” Nick says. “Because right now we’re going to hear whatever it was you wanted to tell me.”
I take a couple of deep breaths and clear my throat. Then I ask Nick to keep an open mind. And then I tell him the thing that’s been lurking at the back of my brain since I walked up behind him and squeezed his shoulder at Dirty Secrets.
“Remember that I mentioned seeing you before?” I begin. “A couple of times around the city.”
He smiles. “Sure. Marie’s Crisis and Shake Shack.”
“And running with your friends,” I add. “Well, I actually…” I feel a chill slide down my back at the thought of finally telling him what I’m about to reveal. “I actually…I mean, when I saw you the first time, I was mesmerized by how handsome you are.”
He laughs. “Mesmerized? Like I’m a magical gemstone or something?”
“And then,” I continue, “when you were waiting to place your order at Shake Shack, I took your picture.” I shrug and my face burns with embarrassment. “Actually, I took it more than once.”
The smile on his face droops. “You took my picture?”
“Yes,” I say quietly. “And I got close enough to hear your friend say your name.”
He chews on his lip. “Who was I with?”
“A pretty brunette and a toddler,” I answer.
“That’s Anna,” he tells me. “We used to live in the same building.”
“Her daughter was really sweet. You shared your French fries with her.”
Nick’s face is completely blank. It’s like he’s trying to figure out if he should stay in the cab or jump out at the next intersection.
“I’m not a stalker,” I say quickly. “Or a crazed lunatic. I was just so dazzled by your gorgeous face and beautiful smile and—”
“Yeah, okay.” His voice is harder, colder. “I get it. But you have to admit, it is a little stalkerish.”
“I totally agree, Nick. And I’m sorry. I’ve never done anything like that before.”
“Well, I kind of understand.” He reaches over and squeezes my hand. “I guess it’s flattering. In a weird, borderline sketchy way.”
“There’s more,” I say, knowing that I have to get the rest out before I lose my nerve. “And, like I said a moment ago, I hope that you’ll keep an open mind.”
His smile fades. “I’ll try. What else? You didn’t, like, go home and jerk off to my picture did you?”
I laugh, but it sounds like the nervous snickering of an old lady. “No. Definitely not. Although now that you mention it…” I try to smile casually, but it doesn’t get any lift. “Okay, so here it is,” I continue. “In my line of work, I occasionally hire a private investigator to do background checks on employees, contractors and a few clients. When I kept running into you, but never quite found the right moment to introduce myself, I called my—”
His eyes flare; surprise darkened with anger. “You had a detective track me down?”
I wince. “Guilty as charged. But it’s not—”
“Yes, it is!” His voice is shaking. “I mean, people Google other people all the time. But to actually hire an investigator to dig into my life…” He stops to catch his breath. “That really does feel like crossing a line.”
“I just wanted to meet you,” I tell him. “I’d blown my chance the other times, by not having the balls to walk over and introduce myself.”
“Why didn’t you?” he asks. “You’re a confident, successful guy. Why wouldn’t you just come up and say hello?”
I think about it. The answer is so pathetic that I don’t want to admit it to Nick. But I can tell from the fury burning in his eyes that he’s not going to drop this with a simple apology.
“Okay, so here it is,” I say after anxiously clearing my throat a few times. “I was gutted when my ex just walked out the door. I know it might sound strange, but he robbed me of my confidence. Maybe part of it is age. I’m not twenty-five anymore; I’m more than fifteen years past that point, where you feel invincible and omnipotent.”
He sneers. “Are you fucking serious? You’re forty-two. That’s hardly over the hill and whatever.”
“I agree with you,” I say. “And I’m sorry if I’ve upset you. But there’s a difference between saying those words and being able to act on them. Nobody knows this, but I went to see a therapist a few times after Brent walked out. It didn’t do anything for me. And I talked to my closest friends. That helped a little bit, although it didn’t erase the way I felt.”
We ride in silence for a few blocks as Nick considers what I’ve shared with him. The longer it takes him to respond, the more my stomach tightens. I’m about ready to apologize again, but he stops me with another question.
“What else did he tell you about me?”
“Who?” I ask.
He huffs. “The private investigator.”
“Oh, sorry.” The knots in the pit of my stomach tighten again. “I didn’t…uh, he gave me a packet of information, but I never even opened it. I kept it in a drawer for a couple of days, but then I took it to work and shredded everything.”
“Why did you do that?” Nick asks. “After you paid the guy to find me, you just trashed the file?”
I shrug, offering a delicate grin. “Yeah, that’s me. Another example of the difference between perception and reality. People that know me professionally think I’ve got it all figured out. But my personal life hasn’t always been quite so neat and tidy.”
He frowns. “I’m not
following. What do you mean?”
“I mean that I make mistakes,” I say. “I question my decisions. I stop in midstream and turn back around. After the detective found you and gave me the file, I realized that it wasn’t a good choice. On one hand, I really wanted to meet you and find out what was behind that handsome face and those amazing eyes. But when he delivered the file and told me a few details, I decided that—”
“Oh, I get it,” Nick says. “He told you where I used to live?”
I nod. “Just a couple of things. Which I remembered. But I didn’t tell your friend Oliver that I already knew your name when we talked at Dirty Secrets. And I didn’t write down your phone number or anything else that the detective told me. Maybe I was already feeling self-conscious about using him in the first place. Whatever it was, I didn’t open the envelope and I never asked him about you again.”
The look of distrust on Nick’s face begins to soften. “You never talked to him again?”
“Not about you,” I say. “But I did call him to track down Blake and Liam after their last visit to my house.”
He laughs. “Visit? More like after they robbed you.”
“True, but I’m actually thinking about not pressing charges for that,” I say. “The detective found them, and they agreed to return my property. Nothing was damaged, nothing had been pawned.”
Nick grins. “That was fast.”
“Well,” I say, “we’re not exactly talking about criminal masterminds. But they won’t be a problem again.”
“How can you be so sure?” Nick asks.
“I’ll tell you the whole story another time,” I answer. “Suffice to say, my nephew’s on his way to rehab, and Blake’s looking for another job. I told Devon about their little stunt and he fired him from the club.”
The cab stops again. I reach over and take Nick’s hand. “Are we good?”
He turns slowly to face me. “As long as you don’t go all stalker on me again.”
“You can count on it,” I say. “I really am sorry that I didn’t just tell you the night we met.”
His eyes go wide. “I don’t know. It might’ve been even creepier then. And I probably wouldn’t have kept talking to you or gone upstairs with you or…” He blushes and his eyes swivel out the window again. “Or any of the other incredible things that happened that night,” he adds, glancing at me. “So it kind of worked out perfectly this way. Don’t you think?”
“Pretty much,” I say, feeling the knots loosen in my stomach. “You know, nobody’s perfect, but I’ll do my best to be my best for you.”
His mouth opens and he starts to say something, but then he simply smiles, squeezes my hand and sits back against the seat. I keep my gaze on him for a few minutes, studying his profile and the gentle cadence of his breathing as his chest rises and falls. Then I close my eyes and listen to the sounds of the city and the drone of the cab’s engine. There’s a spark of anticipation in my heart; a glimmer that hints of optimism and hope and something inexplicably wonderful.
42
▬ ☼ ▬
ADAM
“This is the first place that I visited when I moved to the city,” I say as we slowly circle Bethesda Fountain in Central Park.
Nick laughs. “You’re kidding me, right?”
“Not at all,” I reply. “I took a cab from the airport and asked the driver to bring me here. When I was growing up in Omaha, I used to dream about two things: this fountain in the park and the Thanksgiving Day Parade. Since I got to the city in June, this place made the most sense. Otherwise, I would’ve been loitering outside of Macy’s for a few months to bring one of my fantasies to life.”
He looks at me for a few seconds with a playful smirk on his face.
“What’s funny?” I ask.
“You just said something that…” He pauses. “Well, it just hit me. You said seeing the park for the first time was like turning a fantasy into reality, right?”
I nod.
“That’s how it feels to be with you,” Nick says. “Like a dream that suddenly becomes real.”
I keep watching his face as he lowers his gaze and stares at his feet.
“Like a fantasy?” I ask, coming to a stop.
He shrugs. “That probably sounded totally stupid, but it’s how I feel.”
“It wasn’t stupid.” I rest one hand on his shoulder as he turns toward me. “It was a really nice thing to hear, actually. I haven’t done this for a long time, so—”
“Walked around the park?” There’s a mischievous edge to his voice. “Or are you talking about something else?”
I squeeze his shoulder. “I was talking about you and me.”
“I don’t get it,” he says, squinting slightly. “You haven’t hooked up with anyone in a while?”
“That’s not what I mean, Nick. It’s more…the easy way we fit together, the way it feels to be with you.”
His eyes widen. “Oh, right. I thought you were talking about…you know, the sex.”
“I was,” I say. “Because that’s part of it. The sex is astonishing. And I bet it’ll only get more so if we keep going. But hot sex alone does not really fulfill you after a point.”
Nick smiles. “It’s a pretty good place to start, don’t you think?”
I move my hand from his shoulder to the back of his neck. Then I ease him closer, narrowing the gap until we’re inches apart.
“A fucking great place to begin,” I say, leaning in to rub the tip of my nose against his. “And everything else makes it resonate even deeper.”
He laughs. “Resonate? So now you’re bringing out the big words to impress me?”
I kiss him quickly. “Try again, Einstein.”
“What do you mean?” His frown quivers as he stares at me. “Did I say something wrong again?”
I shift my hand around and cup his chin. “Listen to me,” I say firmly. “You don’t need to keep apologizing, okay? I’ve already made it clear that you do that too much.”
He shrugs. “It’s a bad habit.”
“And those can be hard to break,” I say. “I know from experience.”
Nick considers my remark. Then he smiles and asks for an example.
“An example?”
“Yeah.” His grin brightens. “You’ve got more skill than I do. At life, I mean. And I’d like to hear about one of the habits that you broke. My grandmother always told me to learn from my—” He stops short, laughing and blushing. “That might not sound right, huh?”
I smile. “Learn from your elders? Is that what you were going to say?”
He nods. “But I don’t want to make it about the age difference. That’s a big deal for some people.”
“Is it for you?” I ask.
“No way,” he says, shaking his head vigorously. “I like older men. Always have, always will. My friend Oliver and I—”
“Aha!” I cut in. “The world famous Oliver. With the Thom Browne suits and Hermès scarves and collectible editions of Vogue.”
Nick grimaces. “He really went overboard when you guys talked at Dirty Secrets, didn’t he?”
“Nope. I would’ve listened to whatever he said if it meant learning something about you.”
His mouth falls open, but he doesn’t say a word.
“I told you,” I continue, “I’d seen you before. And I wasn’t going to miss the chance to meet you that night.”
His cheeks go pink. “I’m still blown away that you did.”
“You shouldn’t be. You’re a good-looking guy. Actually, you’re just my type. And when I discovered that you’re also smart, creative and ambitious, well…let’s just say I was all in.”
“Yeah?” His voice crackles with nerves. “I’m just me. Nothing special and nothing fancy.”
The simple admission sends a bolt of eagerness to my core. “That’s the difference between perception and reality. You think that you’re nothing special, but the truth is exactly the opposite.”
He narrows his gaze.
“You being serious?”
I nod. “Completely.”
“So what about before?” he asks. “When I saw you with that other guy and ran away?”
“I think we already covered that,” I tell him.
His lips slowly pinch into a worried smile. “I’m still a little nervous,” he confesses.
“Who isn’t now and then?”
“Really?” He blinks in disbelief. “Are you nervous?”
“Not about you.”
We start walking around the fountain again, unhurried and relaxed, as people pass by with their dogs and children, lovers and secrets.
“So what should we do about all of this?” Nick asks.
“We figure it out.” I reach for his hand. “One day, one night, one moment at a time.” Our fingers twine together and I squeeze tightly. “How’s that sound?”
He smiles. “Amazing. But I have another question for you.”
“What’s that?” I ask.
“Do you still have the mask from the night that we met?”
“Possibly.”
“Will you wear it later when I come over?”
I nod. “Any other questions?”
Our eyes lock for a long moment, a gaze that simmers with heat and clarity and passion.
“Hundreds,” he says in a husky whisper. “But let’s take them one by one.”
