Taking Chances: A Sweet Contemporary Romance (Dreams)

by Kamery Solomon

  I’d dated some in my hometown, but nothing serious had ever come from it. Soul mates weren’t something I really believed in. With all the billions of people in the world, what were the odds of finding them if that were true? I did think there were people you were meant to have as part of your life, several of whom would make you more than happy to spend every day with, but I couldn’t rationalize spending my existence looking for one perfect person. Unsure of what I really wanted, I’d had no problem dating all types. So far, I hadn’t met anyone I’d wanted to spend the rest of forever with, and that was fine.

  Right now, I wasn’t ready for a serious relationship. My goals were more important to me. Why spend years working towards them, only to let love get in the way? A few dates here and there were fine, but my top priority had to remain work.

  Stepping out of the warmth that had helped relax my sore muscles, I grabbed a towel off the rack and wrapped it tightly around myself, tucking the corner between my breasts before grabbing another and twisting my hair into it. A quick breeze over the mirror with my hairdryer left the glass ready for my preparations.

  I pulled my makeup bag out from under the sink, the glittery, silver polka dots striking against the red background. Thanks to makeup classes, I covered my face quickly and expertly, wearing a little more than usual, since I was going out.

  The satchel in the cupboard once more, I untwisted the tower on top of my head, wet tresses falling onto my shoulders. Moist air coated my lungs as I relished the fresh, cool feeling that came with ridding myself of the extra heat and weight. My phone, left by the rim of the sink, revealed how much time I had left. It was more than enough to sit down and work a pick through my hair instead of pulling a brush through it quickly.

  I grabbed the blue comb from the counter and walked into the main part of the apartment, checking to make sure the curtains were closed before letting my makeshift dress fall to the floor. A quick perusal through my now unpacked things revealed the black, lacy bra and underwear I wanted to wear. I slid them on, happy with how they made my body look. It seemed a shame I was the only one who’d ever seen it, the one downfall to being more concerned with my career.

  Settling onto the bed, still unmade from last night’s slumber, I began to untangle my locks, enjoying the soft pull on my scalp. I wasn’t overly sensitive about it—I didn’t feel the need to look like I’d just left the salon every day—but it was nice to give myself a little extra attention today.

  Once I was satisfied with my damp hair, I rose and walked over to the closet, an outfit already in mind. When I’d first arrived in the city, I’d bought a purple dress in celebration, wanting my first purchase to be something I could keep and use. It had nice short sleeves and a square neckline, with a tight skirt that came to just above my knees. I felt like I belonged here that much more when I wore it.

  I slid the smooth fabric over my head and zipped up the back, my curves accented perfectly. A quick check in the mirror on the door showed that none of my underthings were revealed. My bare feet padded across the floor as I went back to the bathroom, thinking about how to wear my hair and what jewelry I should pick.

  Finally, the time for Chris to arrive had come. I checked my reflection once more, making sure my chic twist was still poised to hold up for the night. The faux pearls I’d picked out glimmered in my ears and along my collar bone, little gold rings between each ball on the necklace.

  There was a knock at the door as I slid the lip gloss applicator over my lips once, smiling at myself before going to answer it.

  Chris was much more handsome than I remembered. His brown hair was styled smooth, slicked down in perfection except for his bangs, which formed a soft wave on one side. I suddenly remembered him saying he had a good paycheck as I looked over his suit, certain it was designer.

  “Wow,” he said.

  His appreciative comment brought my eyes back to his face, a sigh fighting to break free from my own mouth at his sparkling blue eyes and dazzling white smile. He’d shaved the stubble from his face, unlike the last time I’d seen him. It suited him better this way.

  “Hi,” I laughed, realized he caught me staring.

  “You look amazing,” he said, his teeth shining out at me.

  “So do you,” I blushed.

  “These are for you,” he continued, pulling three long stemmed roses from behind him.

  “Thank you! You shouldn’t have,” I gushed, taking them excitedly.

  “Every girl deserves flowers on a first date,” he smiled, his hands going into his pockets.

  I laid the flowers on the counter, turning back to him quickly, a grin of my own plastered to my face.

  “Shall we?” he asked, stepping out of the way, so I could exit into the hall.

  “Sure,” I said, picking up my small, black purse from the hook on the wall and pulling my keys from it.

  He closed the door for me and I locked it, butterflies fluttering in my stomach as he remained close, hand on the knob.

  I’d never felt so excited about going out with someone. He’d already topped the chivalry I’d experienced on every other date. Even my senior prom had found me in the corner by myself while Adam McCarthy danced with every other girl in the room.

  “I hope you like Italian,” he said as we walked away.

  “I do,” I said, readjust the chain link strap on my shoulder.

  “We’re going to one of my favorite restaurants,” he said as we descended the stairs.

  We walked side by side, fortunate that no one came up to separate us. Shock mingled in my mind, unsure why I was suddenly so excited to be going out on a date. I let everything slip away as we left the building, traveling down the steps to the car waiting by the curb.

  “Allow me,” he said, opening the door and ushering me inside.

  He slid in next to me, close enough for our thighs to touch, but not creepily. He had seemed nice the other times I’d been with him, so I didn’t even mind his obvious lack of personal space awareness. It made me excited, heightening my interest in the outcome of our date.

  “So,” he started, after giving the driver directions. “Have you been to any other shows since you arrived?”

  “I haven’t,” I said mournfully. “I haven’t had the time, or the money.”

  “They have cheap tickets,” he laughed, wrinkles forming around his eyes.

  “I know,” I giggled back. “But those seats aren’t the good ones.”

  “They aren’t bad,” he said, lifting his arm and laying it on the seat behind me.

  “But they aren’t what the director pictured,” I replied with a grin, adjusting myself, so I could better look at him.

  “I don’t follow,” he said, eyes sparkling.

  “When you sit in front of the stage, you see everything the way the director imagined,” I explained, closing my eyes and picturing the inside of the only theatre I’d been in here. “There are no trap doors to give the tricks away, no lights shining where they shouldn’t be, and everything is clear, like if you’d been watching a movie.” I opened my eyes to find him staring at me, transfixed. “If you’re up above the stage, the show loses its magic. Things that should have remained a mystery are instantly given away.”

  “I’ve never heard anyone explain it like that,” he stated, leaning in slightly.

  “Of course, not every show is that way,” I said with a soft smile. “But the great ones are. I wouldn’t want to see them from anywhere but the floor.”

  “You really love it,” he laughed, leaning back and pulling his arm from behind me, resting his hands in his lap.

  “I do.”

  “That’s awesome, if you ask me,” he marveled. “It’s nice to see someone with a passion for something.”

  “Lots of people have passion,” I argued. “They just aren’t as open about it as I am.”

  “That’s actors for you,” he chuckled.

  “Tell me about your job,” I asked, interested in learning more about him.


  “There’s not really much more than what I told you before,” he said, glancing over at me again.

  “Why did you go into that field?” I pressed. “What made you want to put up with . . . what did you call them? Snooty?”

  “And snobby,” he snickered, nodding. “They aren’t all bad. I had a complicated day when I said that.”

  “Really, though,” I pressed. “What made you want to go into real estate?”

  “I love the architecture of this city,” he stated simply. “I wanted to see every space of it and experience what it had to offer. You know, except for the ones I could end up dead in,” he laughed. “When I was younger, I actually wanted to be an architect, but it didn’t play out.”

  “Why not?”

  “As it turns out, I’m terrible at designing my own stuff,” he said with a grin.

  “I don’t think that’s true,” I laughed. “You didn’t chicken out, did you?”

  “No!” He chuckled again, adjusting his position and turning towards me once more.

  The car rolled to a stop and whatever he was about to say was cut short as the driver opened the door for us.

  “Thank you,” Chris nodded as he slid out, reaching back to take my hand and help me out as well.

  The restaurant lights glittered through the windows in front of us, patrons seated close to the glass. The valet opened the door for us as we approached him, nodding his head as Chris thanked him.

  There was a pretty blonde at the hostess station, a smile and menus ready. Within seconds, we were seated at a table next to the street, the panes revealing the scenery outside.

  “Could I interest you in any of our evening wines?” the hostess asked.

  “Why don’t you bring us something sweet,” Chris said, smiling brightly.

  “Could I have some water as well?” I asked politely.

  “I’ll be right out with those,” she said graciously before leaving us with our pamphlets.

  “I didn’t even ask,” Chris said, a slight redness to his face. “Do you drink?”

  “Every now and then,” I said with a smile. “Not very much, though. We didn’t have it at home unless we were celebrating something.”

  “Home,” he said thoughtfully. “Where are you from again? Our flight was from Denver, right?”

  “It was,” I confirmed, nodding. “But I flew in from Phoenix.”

  “Ah. Hot,” he said with a laugh.

  “Actually, I lived in the mountains. It snows there and everything.”

  I settled back in my chair, crossing my legs and folding my arms, a smile on my lips.

  “You haven’t seen anything, yet,” he said, resting a hand on the table. “Hurricanes, snow storms, humidity—you’re in for a rude weather awakening.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind.”

  We smiled at each other, the silence between us unnoticed as the butterfly feeling returned to my insides.

  “Good evening! I’m Meg and I’ll be taking care of you tonight. Here’s your wine and water, and is there anything else I can get for you right now?”

  The waitress smiled down at us, extra menus in her arms as she waited for one of us to answer.

  I suddenly realized I hadn’t even looked at my menu, yet, and pulled it towards me, leafing through its contents. Everything looked good, and I had no doubt it was expensive—there were no prices listed. I knew that some fancy places only gave the prices to the person paying. I squirmed in my chair slightly, uncomfortable with the arrangement. It would be just my luck that I picked the most expensive thing on the list. Even if I didn’t, I’d still worry because I wouldn’t know for sure. I would have to pick something more like a side.

  “Do you see anything you like, Mara?” Chris asked, handing his menu to Meg. He must have ordered while I was panicking over food.

  “Um,” I said, looking up at him. “Can I have a salad?”

  “Of course,” he laughed. “Whatever you want.”

  “A salad,” I said with a smile, certain I hadn’t picked anything too costly.

  “Would you like the house specialty, the shrimp salad, a side salad?” she asked, tucking a strand of her long, blond hair behind her ear as she looked down at her notepad.

  “Uh, just a regular chef salad I think,” I answered, not sure what to pick from the choices she’d offered.

  “Okay, I’ll have those out to you as soon as I can. If you need anything else, I’ll be around to check on you.”

  She flashed a very friendly smile and took her leave, stopping at the table next to us for a moment to assess their situation as well.

  “Wine?” Chris offered, brining my attention back to him.

  “Would you mind if I waited?”

  “Of course not,” he said, pouring a small amount into his glass. “If you’re from Arizona you must need water more than anyone here.”

  I laughed, blushing slightly again.

  “It’s a dry heat.”

  “So I’ve heard,” he laughed, raising his glass. “To the desert and its dry heat.”

  I clinked my water glass against his wine goblet and took a small sip, relishing in the refreshing coolness.

  “Have you seen any good places lately? I mean with your job,” I asked, searching for an interesting subject to talk about.

  “Actually, I have,” he said with a smile. “It was a penthouse overlooking the Hudson River.”

  “Roof garden?” I questioned, pretending to be skeptical.

  “No,” he laughed. “It did have several balconies that were finely decorated, though.”

  “Tell me about it,” I replied with a smile.

  “It was bought by a foreign couple for their nineteen year old son who’s moving to the country to go to college.”

  “What?” I asked, my jaw dropping. “They just bought it for him?”

  “It’s very common,” he said before taking another sip.

  “But he didn’t earn it!” I said, flustered. “How do they know he will take care of it if he didn’t earn the money to buy it himself?”

  “He won’t, I’m sure,” Chris mused.

  “I can’t believe that. I saved everything I could and worked myself almost to death to get here. Even now, it’s looking like I might need to get a roommate to help with expenses.”

  “New York is not cheap,” he agreed. “I was actually surprised when I discovered you lived alone.”

  “I could probably keep it up,” I said. “But I wouldn’t have as much time for auditions. I’d have to work all the time.”

  “Choices, choices,” Chris laughed.

  “It’s not a choice,” I sighed, frustrated with my predicament. “I came here to act. If I’m not able to do that, then what was the point in coming here?”

  “I’m sure you could easily find someone if you wanted,” he stated. “There are a lot of people looking for a place to stay here.

  “What about you, if you don’t mind,” I inquired, raising my glass to my lips. “Do you live alone?”

  He raised his eyebrows at me, surprise on his face.

  “Oh no!” I laughed. “I didn’t mean it like that. I just wondered if you had a roommate. Nothing funny.”

  “I know, and I do,” he chortled, nodding. “I can afford it, though.”

  “Must be nice,” I mused. “If I had my way, I’d live in a giant penthouse with views of Central Park.”

  “I’ll be sure to keep an eye out for you,” he teased.

  I rolled my eyes as I took a drink and he chuckled. It did seem like he was very well off.

  “Okay,” Meg announced herself, a tray laden with food resting on her shoulder and open palm. “I have a pasta for you, Sir, and a chef salad for your pretty date.”

  She set the plates in front of us and my eyes widened at the size of my salad, its leafy greens practically falling off onto the table, there were so many of them. Despite its monstrous size, it still looked delicious, my mouth watering as I looked over everything in it. It appeared that t
he pasta Chris had ordered was his favorite, if the look on his face was any indicator.

  “Anything else?” Meg asked.

  “No, thank you,” I said with a smile.

  “I’m fine,” Chris added, grinning as well.

  The rest of the evening was spent talking about our past experiences, including education. I wasn’t surprised to find he had a business degree. That wasn’t what made him so attractive to me, though. He listened intently to everything I said, laughing and joking along in all the right places. I felt like I was heard when I spoke, not just looked at like some of my previous dates back home. There was warmness in my belly that grew the longer we were together and I hoped I was making a good impression on him as well.

  All too soon, our dinner was over and he offered his arm to me as we walked outside, the doorman hurrying out to open the door of the car that’d dropped us off. Once we were inside, Chris gave him a tip, thanking him for his services and courtesy.

  “What are you looking at?” he asked as we pulled away from the curb.

  “The people,” I said, tearing my gaze away from the window to look at him. “They interest me. I wonder where they’re going and what’s happened in their lives. How did they deal with trials? Do they feel like they have a good or bad life?”

  “People watching,” he said with a playful smile. “Also known as an actress at work.”

  “I never thought of it like that,” I laughed. “I enjoy doing it, that’s all.”

  “Thank you for tonight,” he said, breezing over to what he wanted to talk about. “I had a good time.”

  “Me too,” I agreed, smiling.

  “Would you . . . you know, be interested in doing it again?” He swallowed hard, like he was afraid I would slap him for asking.

  “Sure,” I smiled, letting a little laughter into my voice. “I think it would be fun.”

  “Awesome,” he beamed, the wide grin overtaking his face once more. “I’ll see what I can come up with.”

  “Don’t try too hard,” I laughed. “You don’t want to break your brain.”

  “So, what if it does?”

  “Then maybe whatever you think is wrong with your architecture designs will be fixed in the process.”