by Adams, S. C.
3
Nathaniel
I was supposed to spend my day going over the menu changes at my restaurants for the next couple of weeks, but it was impossible to concentrate after dropping Alyssa off at her apartment. So I futzed around for a few hours at the restaurant, making a nuisance of myself while terrorizing the sous chefs and making the bus boys laugh. Hey, it’s all part of the job.
But the woman is consuming my every thought. Even though our time together was probably twenty minutes tops, I know I want more. I want everything.
What kind of guy says that? My kind, I guess. An over the top, driven alpha male. After all, I didn’t get where I am by waiting around and seeing how the land lies. Instead, I took every opportunity and pushed them to the max. And I’m doing that with Alyssa tonight.
My driver pulls up in front of my favorite flower shop and I hop out. Alyssa strikes me as a daisy kind of girl. They’re not in season right now, but fortunately, the shop has some in stock. I buy every stem on display, which makes for an obscenely huge bouquet.
“Lucky lady?” the older Italian man asks. He’s owned this shop since he came here from the old country thirty years ago. I wouldn’t trust anyone else with my floral needs.
“I sure hope so,” I quip. “How much do I owe you?”
“On the house,” he says. “You bring me so much business, grazie. Take the daisies, make the girl happy.”
I toss some cash on the counter anyway. He’s always been kind to me. Once, when I was still in middle school, he gave me a bouquet of expensive roses so I could impress my crush. That’s touching, right? I was a thirteen year old boy with acne on my chin and my heart on my sleeve, and the old man took pity on me. The least I can do is give him all the business he deserves now.
“Thanks man,” I call, pushing the door open.
“Good luck!” he waves.
The sleek black car is waiting for me by the curb. Once inside, my driver asks me where to. “West 55th,” I tell him. “I’ll guide you the rest of the way.”
Truthfully, I don’t remember the exact number of Alyssa’s apartment building, but I can recall its exterior. It’s an older building with a sandstone stoop that appears to be well cared for. On either side sit tall, glass-and-metal buildings, like two sentinels with their dwarf neighbor in between. Ah, the effects of gentrification.
“Right here,” I tell grunt as soon as we get close. “I’ll give you a call when I’m ready to head back.” Jumping out, I head to the call box and push the buzzer impatiently.
“Hello?” a shy voice says through the intercom.
“Alyssa? It’s me. Nate.”
I rarely go by Nate, but I think that’s safer than Nathaniel. I’m worried that if I give her my full name, Alyssa will recognize me, and the music will stop. It’s better and easier this way.
“I’ll be right out,” Alyssa responds. A few seconds later, she’s walking out the door wearing a gorgeous black skirt that hugs her curves and a long sleeve sweater that clings to her soft stomach and large breasts. Does the girl have any idea what she’s doing to me? I’ve never seen a woman so beautiful.
“Do I look okay?” Alyssa asks when she catches me staring. She covers her stomach with her arms. “I wasn’t sure where we’d be going…”
“You look fantastic,” I assure her.
She smiles tentatively. “Good. So where are we going? One of the restaurants you promised to introduce me to?”
My heart sinks for a moment until I remember our conversation from earlier. I had admitted to Alyssa that the food is the best part of New York. I wasn’t lying, but I have other plans for us today.
“Actually, I was thinking we could go for a walk first. Is that okay?”
“I’d love to. Do you have a destination in mind?”
I meet her eyes. “I’d like to take you on your first walk through Central Park.”
Alyssa’s face lights up. “Really? That sounds incredible.”
Fall is a great time to visit Central Park. It’s not yet over-crowded with holiday visitors and it’s incredibly beautiful with the layers of green, brown, red, orange, and other autumn colors.
Since we only just met today, I’m worried taking Alyssa’s hand would be a bit forward. Instead, I hold out my arm for her to link hers with mine. She does, and we start the short walk to Central Park. I don’t know how Alyssa managed to get such a great apartment, but I’m glad she did. It’ll come in handy for her touristy adventures.
I watch Alyssa’s eyes as she sees Central Park for the first time. For someone like me, the Park is just a part of the landscape, just as much as the skyscrapers and bridges are. To a newcomer, it’s the most incredible view in the world.
“It’s like… an oasis in a silver desert,” Alyssa says eloquently. “And I live less than five minutes away!”
She drags me down the first path she sees, narrowly avoiding a collision with a bicyclist.
“Be careful,” I warn. “The bikes are more dangerous than cars around here.”
“Really?”
I nod. “They won’t stop for anything. Don’t quote me on this, but I think you’re more likely to get hit by a bike than a car in New York.”
Alyssa giggles. “At least getting hit by a bike would hurt less.”
She underestimates how fast these bikes can get, but I don’t correct her. I’d rather watch her experience the Park for the first time.
We walk for a bit until we reach one of my favorite parts of the Park. It’s an iron bridge that has the perfect view of fall foliage.
“Come,” I tell Alyssa. “Let’s walk over the bridge.”
She keeps hold of my arm as we walk towards the structure. Halfway across, we stop and lean against the sturdy railing so Alyssa can take photos of the colorful trees.
“This is beautiful!” she says. “It feels like home.”
“I thought you might like it.”
“Thank you for taking me here.”
I smile down at her. “I’m glad you’re enjoying it. Shall we keep walking? We have some time before sunset.”
I don’t tell her what I have planned once we’re done in the Park. I want that to be a surprise.
As we finish our walk across the bridge, Alyssa doesn’t join her arm with mine. She fiddles with the edges of her sweater like she’s nervous. I like that Alyssa is kind of shy. It’s adorable on her.
I’m not shy in the least, so I decide to take her hand this time. Hopefully, it doesn’t scare her away. She glances up at me, asking a question, like she’s wondering if I meant to hold her hand. When she decides I’m being sincere, Alyssa laces her fingers with mine.
“What do your parents think of your move to New York?” I ask as we enjoy a leisurely stroll down one of the Park’s many walking paths.
Alyssa sighs sadly. “My parents passed away when I was a little girl. I was raised by my grandparents.”
“I’m so sorry,” I tell her. “That must have been hard.”
“It was all I knew,” she admits. “My grandparents are really supportive of this move, though they were both sad to see me go. I think it was harder on me than it was on them, honestly.”
“Why do you say that?”
From the corner of my eye, I can see her gnawing on her lip. “I don’t know,” Alyssa says. “I guess it was a pretty big leap of faith for me to come out here and try my hand at culinary school. It was hard for me to leave behind the safety of my life before.”
“Are you glad you took the leap?”
“Ask me again in a week,” she jokes. “I start class tomorrow. I’m terrified that I won’t be able to handle it.”
We’re venturing into dangerous territory. Time to shift the conversation elsewhere. If we spend too much time discussing her schooling, she might figure out who I am. I’m not ready for her to know that just yet.
“I’m sure you’ll do fine,” I say. I point ahead of us. “Look up there. We’re coming on the area of the park that has the most fa
ll foliage.”
“Really?” she asks excitedly. “Can you take some photos of me? My grandparents would love it.”
Her excitement is endearing. “Of course.”
Alyssa poses by some red oak, black cherry, and sweet gum trees. In her deep orange sweater and brown hair, she looks like she belongs here. I take some pictures on her phone with her doing various happy poses. The sun is beginning to set, making the lighting perfect for a photo shoot.
Once I’ve taken a satisfactory number of photos, Alyssa scrolls through them, trying to decide which to post on social media and which she should send her grandparents back home.
“They’re going to be so happy to see me out and about. They were worried I’d become a recluse once I moved here.”
“I won’t let that happen,” I say. “I’ll drag you outside if I have to. There’s too much to do on the city streets for you to spend your time indoors!”
Alyssa giggles and leans into my shoulder. “Thanks, Nate.”
I could stay like this all night, but Alyssa’s rumbling stomach reminds me that we haven’t eaten yet.
“What do you say we stop at a grocery store and head to your apartment to make dinner?”
“Really? I thought you loved visiting different restaurants in the city.”
“I do, but I love to cook, too. It’ll be good practice before you start school tomorrow.”
“Okay,” Alyssa says. “Let’s do it. I’ll have to warn you, though. My kitchen isn’t exactly a five-star restaurant. It has the necessities but not much else.”
“We’ll make it work,” I promise.
We decide to walk on the street rather than back through the park this time. We both figure we’ll have better luck finding a grocery store this way.
“What’s your favorite food?” I ask when we find a small food store a few blocks from Alyssa’s apartment.
She thinks about it for a second. “My grandmother makes really great spaghetti, but I had that last night. I think my second favorite is probably… shredded chicken tacos with homemade guac.”
“Sounds delicious. Let’s make that for dinner.”
“Really?”
“Yeah, let’s do it. You get the chicken and guac supplies and I’ll get the other ingredients. We’ll meet at the front in, say, ten minutes?”
“Aye aye, captain!” she says, then immediately blushes. “I don’t know why I just said that.”
“It was cute,” I tell her. “Now go get your ingredients!”
I manage to gather everything up first, but Alyssa joins me by the registers soon after. She tries to pay for our groceries since we’re going to her apartment, but I insist on footing the bill. If we’d gone out, I’d have paid, so it’s only fitting I pay for the fixings for dinner.
We put all our groceries into easy-to-carry reusable bags and finish the short walk to Alyssa’s apartment.
“It’s not much,” Alyssa tells me when she unlocks the door. “I haven’t had a chance to really settle in.”
The apartment is much smaller than I’m used to. It’s been a long time since I’ve lived anywhere that has less than five bedrooms. My current house has six.
Despite its quaint size, the apartment feels homey. She may not have had time to settle in, but Alyssa made sure to put out photos of herself with an older couple – probably her grandparents.
“This place is great,” I say. “Where’s the kitchen?”
Alyssa leads me behind a divider wall and into what passes for a kitchen in a tiny New York apartment. There’s hardly room for the fridge, oven/stove, and a sink. This is going to be a tight squeeze, and I’m not upset about it.
“Why don’t you get started on the guac and I’ll get the chicken going?”
She nods. “I’m on it.”
I toss the chicken in my own herb blend and start cooking it down on the stove top. While that simmers, I glance over at Alyssa’s work station. She’s attempting to cut a tomato with a regular knife.
There’s a bread knife on her counter, so I slide behind Alyssa and hand it to her. “Try this,” I say into her ear. “It’s a lot easier for cutting tomatoes.”
I guide her hand in even strokes through the tomato. Together we get it into small cubes, perfect for the guacamole.
“Thanks,” Alyssa breathes.
She tilts her head so our eyes meet. I am so tempted to kiss her right now. Even more tempted to push her up against the counter and have my way with her. I can’t do either of these things, at least not yet. I don’t want to get kicked out of the apartment – and out of her life – for moving too fast. I like Alyssa too much to scare her away. She’s so shy and innocent. If I’m overly eager, I might lose her before I’ve even gotten her.
“You’re good at this,” Alyssa says. Her cheeks are returning to normal after her heavy blush, but she hasn’t moved away from me. My body is still pressed up against her back. “Where did you learn to cook?”
This is a dangerous subject, but I answer it honestly.
“My dad taught me. Working together in the kitchen used to be our thing.”
“That sounds nice,” she says wistfully. “I think my mom and I would have loved cooking together. Sometimes my grandparents will make dinner with me, but it’s not very often, and it’s not the same.”
I squeeze her shoulder.
“Your mom is always with you in the kitchen, because she’s always in your mind and your heart.”
Alyssa’s eyes are glassy, but she doesn’t shed a tear.
“Thanks, Nate. Let’s talk about something happier?”
“Love to,” I say. “How about this: the chicken is ready.”
I reluctantly return to the stove and move the chicken from the heat. It looks absolutely perfect. I wouldn’t have it any other way.
“The guacamole is ready, too.”
“Perfect! I’m just going to fry up some tortillas quick. Do you want to set everything into bowls?”
Alyssa takes the chicken, guac, cheese, and other fixings to her small dining room table so I have room to work. It’s best to avoid any possible disaster when working with hot oil. In such close proximity, a single tap from Alyssa could knock the pot onto both of us.
It doesn’t take long for me to heat the oil and cook the tortillas. Ideally, I’d have made the dough from scratch, but I didn’t have that kind of time or the resources. We’ll have to settle for fried up pre-made tortillas.
With my plate of freshly warmed tortillas in hand, I join Alyssa at the table. Everything we prepared looks amazing.
I pour us each a glass of wine and hold mine up for a toast.
“To our amazing meal!”
Alyssa hesitates for a second before tapping her glass against mine. She takes the smallest of sips before setting the wine back on the table. She probably doesn’t want to risk any kind of hangover for her first day of school tomorrow. She’s a smart girl, and she’s good in the kitchen. I think she’ll do well at NYACA.
We prepare ourselves tacos and each take a bite. I groan at the delicious combination of flavors. Alyssa’s guacamole is incredible!
“You’re a genius,” I tell her. “Your guac is delicious, and tacos were a great idea.”
Alyssa blushes once again.
“Thanks. The seasonings you put on the chicken are great. Can you give me the recipe?”
“Of course. I’ll text it to you.”
For a few beats, we’re both silent. I want to get to know Alyssa more, so I decide to shift the conversation to something other than food.
“Do you like to travel?”
She wipes her face with a napkin.
“I do, but I don’t do it often. My grandparents and I used to visit somewhere new every summer, but we stopped when I was a junior in high school. They’re getting too old to be traveling all the time.”
“What was your favorite place you ever visited?”
“I loved Nashville. The music, the food, the people. Everything about it was amazing.
I want to get back there someday. I’ve only ever been once.”
I nod.
“Nashville is amazing.”
“What about you?” she asks quietly. “What’s your favorite place to travel?”
“It’s a tie between two: Italy and Los Angeles.”
She looks surprised.
“Really? Those are pretty different places, from what I’ve heard.”
I nod, smiling.
“Exactly. Italy has amazing food and LA has … I don’t know, a great atmosphere I guess. And West Coast beaches are way better than East Coast beaches.”
“I’ve never actually been to California. The furthest West we went was Colorado. Skiing was fun.”
“I love to ski,” I tell her. “We don’t have a lot of great places around here, but up in New Hampshire and Vermont there are a few peaks that work. Do you go often?”
She nods. “Since that trip to Colorado, yeah. I try to go a few times every winter.”
We continue to talk about the places we’ve visited and our favorite things to do. I’m struck for the second time today with how easy it is to talk to Alyssa. The words seem to flow out of me when she’s around.
Our conversation doesn’t stop, even when we move from the dining table back to the tiny kitchen to clean up.
Unfortunately, it’s getting late and we both have big days tomorrow. Once the leftovers are packed in the fridge and the dishes are drying in the rack, I know it’s time for me to go home. Even though I would love to stay the night.
“I had a lot of fun,” I say. “We should do this again sometime.”
Alyssa walks me to the front door but I insist she stay inside. My driver is waiting for me, anyway.
“I had fun too,” Alyssa says. “Thanks for everything.”
I smile down at her. “You are very welcome.”
I should leave now, but I can’t. Her lips are too close, too inviting. I bend down until our mouths meet in a passionate kiss. My tongue dips between her luscious lips and she moans, her body melting against me.
A few seconds later, it’s over.
“I’ll see you soon,” I promise, leaving her with starry eyes staring after me from the doorway.
