by Nancy Krulik
“Okay, this is ridiculous,” Alana told herself. “What are you, in seventh grade? You’re almost a college student. Grow up and dial the number.” Alana rolled her eyes. “Great. Now I’m talking to myself. This guy’s making me crazy.” She held her breath and began to dial once again. 1-646…
The phone rang once and then went directly to voice mail. “Hi. Connor here. I’m so bummed I missed your call. Leave your name and number, and I’ll call you back.”
Alana took a deep breath as she waited for the beep…. “Connor, it’s Alana. I got your note, and I’m…um…calling you. Call me back.” Her voice shook as she left him her phone number.
As she hung up the phone, Alana fell back on her bed and covered her face with her pillow in embarrassment. Okay, so that was the dumbest message ever left by anyone ever in the history of the telephone. Of course I got his note. How else would I have gotten his number? And why did I bother giving him my number? He’d have it on his missed-call list on his cell. He’s going to think I’m a moron. He’s never gonna call me back. I wouldn’t even call me back after that….
“At the end of the world, you’re the last thing I see….” Alana jumped at the sound of herring tone. Her heart began pounding as she picked up her phone and glanced at the screen. Stella.
Oh. Well, of course it wasn’t him, she thought. His phone wasn’t even on. It had been only two seconds since she’d called and left a message on his phone.
She clicked the green talk button. “Hey, Stel.”
“Gee, could you sound any less excited to hear from me?” Stella joked.
“Sorry. I was expecting…” Alana let her voice trail off. She wasn’t actually expecting anyone.
“Expecting who?” Stella asked.
“It’s nothing. Just that Connor left me a note with his phone number, so I called him. But he wasn’t home,” Alana explained feebly.
“You mean Connor who you’re not at all interested in?” Stella teased. “That Connor?”
“Well, I didn’t say I wasn’t interested in him. I…”
“That’s exactly what you said,” Stella reminded her. “But it’s okay. You were in denial, because of the evil one.”
“Sammy’s not evil,” Alana replied.
“Why are you defending him?” Stella asked.
Alana didn’t answer. She didn’t have an answer, actually. His behavior lately was kind of indefensible.
“So the hottie left you his digits,” Stella said, changing the discussion back to the topic at hand. “Cool.”
“I guess,” Alana said. “I don’t know what he wants, though.”
“He wants you,” Stella said. “God, sometimes you are so thick.”
“Well, it doesn’t matter, because I’m not ready to get into anything with anyone right now,” Alana insisted. “It’s too soon.”
“So, take it slow,” Stella said. “Don’t stick your tongue down his throat until after dinner.”
“Ha ha. Very funny,” Alana groaned. “I don’t even know if I like him that way….”
“Sure,” Stella said doubtfully. “I could see why you wouldn’t. He’s just awful. Who would want a gorgeous guy who’s funny, talented, and hardworking? A guy who remembers what you’re doing on the weekends, when you just mention it once.”
Alana sighed. It was kind of nice the way he’d remembered about her being at the carnival last Saturday.
“And I don’t know why you’d ever want a guy who is willing to work hard for what he wants, instead of a jerk like Sammy who’ll probably wind up stuck in a cubicle crunching numbers for a huge conglomerate that swallows up small companies for sport,” Stella continued.
“Well, Connor definitely works hard,” Alana said, recalling how sweaty he’d been when he’d been fixing the curtain rod at the Stanhopes’ the day she’d met him. His skin was all tan and shiny with perspiration…. God. Just the thought of it was a turn-on.
Just then there was a beeping on the other end. “Oh no. That’s my call-waiting. What if it’s him?”
“Him? You mean Connor? The guy you’re not even sure you like?” Stella joked.
“Shut up,” Alana squawked. She pulled the phone away from her ear to check the name on the phone screen. “Oh, God. It is him. What do I do?”
“Try answering it,” Stella suggested.
“But what do I say?”
Stella laughed. “Start with hello. As for me, I’m saying good-bye.” And with that she hung up, leaving Alana on her own.
She took a deep breath and clicked the green talk button. “Hello…,” she said quietly.
“Alana?” Connor asked.
“Yeah. Hi, Connor.” Alana was barely getting the words out.
“Oh. You didn’t sound like you for a minute.”
Of course not. I’m freaking out, she thought. But out loud she said, “It’s definitely me.”
“Good.” Connor chuckled. “Because that’s exactly who I felt like talking to.”
“Same here,” Alana said, sounding much more enthusiastic than she’d expected.
“I just wanted to tell you I had a great time with your friends last weekend,” Connor said.
“They liked you, too,” Alana said.
“Well, most of them did, anyway,” Connor corrected her. “I didn’t get the feeling Sam was too fond of me.”
“That’s okay,” Alana told him flatly. “I’m not too fond of him these days.”
“Why? What happened?” Connor asked.
“Well—we—he—,” Alana stammered nervously. She didn’t exactly want to tell Connor that she’d been unceremoniously dumped in an e-mail and that she hadn’t heard from Sammy since. “Let’s just say he and I were going in separate directions, and we decided to end things.”
“Oh, wow. I’m sorry,” Connor told her.
“You are?” Alana asked, surprised.
Connor chuckled. “Not really. I mean, I feel bad if you’re sad, but honestly Alana, the guy’s a jerk.”
“He wasn’t always,” Alana murmured feebly. She was getting tired of defending him to everyone.
“I’m sure,” Connor replied. “You wouldn’t have been with him so long if he’d always been like that.”
Alana smiled. Finally someone was giving her credit for not being a total idiot for the past three years. “Yeah. Well, it’s ancient history, anyway.”
“I was never very good at ancient history,” Connor told her. “But current events, man, I’m a whiz at that.”
Alana laughed. “And what are you currently doing?” she asked him.
“At the moment, I’m getting up the guts to ask you out for Friday night,” Connor replied honestly.
“Oh.”
“I mean, if you’re not doing anything, that is. I know it’s kind of short notice. My sister always told me girls liked to be called more than two days in advance, but I…well…I didn’t find out about you and Sammy until just this second and…”
Alana smiled as she listened to his voice trail off. He sounded so nervous. Not at all as sure of himself as he’d seemed before. It really was kind of cute. She waited a beat and then finally put him out of his misery. “Actually, I happen to be free on Friday night.”
“Really?” Connor asked. “That’s awesome. What do you want to do? I mean, we could go to dinner and a movie, or…”
Alana sighed. Dinner and a movie. That could cost him a lot—especially since movies in New York were up to $11.50 a ticket now. Someone like Connor probably couldn’t really afford to spend all that in one night.
“How about we do something really New York?” she suggested.
“Like what?”
“I was thinking we could take a ride on the Staten Island Ferry.”
“You’re serious?” Connor asked her.
“Sure. It’s so much fun, especially if it’s a nice night,” she assured him. And it’s free, she thought. But, of course, she would never say that. It might hurt his pride. Guys could be kind of weird about thin
gs like money.
“Oh,” Connor said slowly. “You’ve done that before.” He sounded kind of bummed.
“No,” Alana said quickly. “I mean, not on a date. I’ve been on it with a bunch of friends a couple of times.”
“I’ve actually never been on the ferry,” Connor admitted.
“Well, after Friday night you won’t be able to say that anymore,” Alana told him. “It’ll be fun. A whole new experience.”
“That’s exactly what I was hoping for,” Connor agreed. “Something new and exciting.”
Alana raced up the subway stairs at top speed, hoping Connor would still be there. They’d planned to meet at eight o’clock at the Whitehall station, which was right near the ferry. But it was already 8:10. Connor may have figured she wasn’t coming or something. And since she’d been underground, her cell phone hadn’t had reception so he could reach her.
Not that the lateness was completely her fault. Okay, sure she’d changed her shirt at least six times before finally settling on the soft, creamy beige, cashmere, short-sleeved sweater, tight jeans, and cowboy boots. But she still could have made it on time if the stupid train hadn’t stayed at the Thirty-fourth Street station for what seemed an eternity.
“Alana, over here!”
Connor’s deep voice rang out through the air as Alana emerged from the subway into the dark New York night. She looked in the direction of the sound and spotted him leaning against a streetlamp. The light above provided a glow around him, as though he were one of the angels in those gilded paintings in the Metropolitan Museum. Alana thought he was quite possibly the most magnificent thing she’d ever seen.
“I’m so sorry I’m late,” she apologized, gasping for air as she came rushing over toward him.
“It’s okay. It was worth the wait. You look gorgeous.” He took her by the hand. “Come on. Let’s get on the boat.”
Alana was glad it was night. Otherwise, he might have seen how fiercely she was blushing. As it was, she hoped he couldn’t hear her heart pounding or feel the sudden tingling that was going through her fingers as her hand touched his.
When they turned the corner and the big orange boat came into view, Connor reached into his pocket with his free hand and pulled out his wallet.
“What are you doing?” Alana asked him.
“I’m gonna buy tickets,” Connor explained.
“There are no tickets,” Alana said. “The Staten Island Ferry is free.”
“Free?” Connor asked. “You’re kidding.”
Alana shook her head. “Nope. Totally free. I can’t believe you didn’t know that.”
Now it was Connor’s turn to blush. “Guess you learn something new every day.”
“Oh, I didn’t mean that the way it sounded,” Alana said. “I just meant, well, you know…,” her voice trailed off.
“I don’t mind learning things from you,” Connor assured Alana. He threw her a cocky grin and pulled her a little closer. “You never know, someday there may be one or two things I can teach you, too.”
“I’ll bet there are,” Alana agreed, enjoying tremendously the feeling of his hip touching hers.
They boarded the ferry, and Alana led Connor to the highest deck. “You get the best views from here,” she told him, moving toward the back of the boat as it pulled away from the dock.
Connor looked directly into her eyes. “I already have the best view,” he told her sincerely.
Alana blushed, again. She couldn’t remember blushing this much in her whole life. “Wait until you see the Statue of Liberty all lit up,” she said.
“Aah, who needs a big, green, metal woman, when I’ve got a gorgeous, flesh-and-blood one right here,” Connor said. He ran his finger gently across her cheek, leaving a trail of tingles in its path.
Alana felt as though she could barely breathe. She glanced up into the night sky. The air above the harbor was clear and crisp. “What an amazing half-moon.”
“Mmhmm,” Connor said, moving even closer toward her. “It’s a magnificent night.”
Alana took a deep breath, inhaling the faint scent of his aftershave. It was kind of spicy, with a touch of lemon or orange. She knew that from now on, that smell would always remind her of him. Of this night. Of their first kiss…
Alana knew he was going to kiss her even before his lips touched hers. It was something in his eyes, the way they were peering into hers, searching for her silent permission. Alana looked back into his eyes, hoping she was giving him the signal he needed.
A moment later his lips were on hers. He kissed her gently at first, a series of small, curious pecks, really. And then, when he was sure she wanted the same thing he did, he kissed her harder, pulling her close, tangling his hands in her long, flowing, golden brown hair. Alana clung tightly to him as they kissed, enjoying the feel of his strong arms around her. She wished they could stay like this forever, never having to let go.
The sudden banging of the ferry as it pulled into the Staten Island terminal shocked Alana back into reality. Had they made the trip across the harbor already? Was that possible?
“Mmm,” she moaned quietly as she pulled away from him. “We’re, um, here.”
Connor looked up at the bright terminal light. “Where?” he asked.
“In Staten Island,” Alana told him. “We have to get off.”
Connor shook his head. “Let’s just stay on. Ride back to Manhattan.” His voice sounded quiet and hoarse.
Alana knew what he meant. She never wanted to get off this boat. She just wanted to ride back and forth forever, safely encased in Connor’s arms. “We can’t,” she said quietly. “We have to get off and reboard. That’s the rules.”
“I hate rules,” Connor said with a sigh. “Always have.”
“We can get right back on,” Alana assured him. But she knew the mood had been broken. They would never be able to get that feeling back. The first kiss can never be completely repeated.
Still, as Alana discovered on the trip back to Manhattan, a second kiss can be pretty amazing too.
Connor insisted on bringing Alana back to the Upper West Side, even though she’d insisted that she could take the subway all by herself. In fact, he’d wanted to take her home in a taxi, but she’d insisted on the train. Ever since the fare hike, cabs were outrageously expensive, and besides, the express train could have them uptown in just a few minutes.
Seventy-second Street was crowded and bustling when Connor and Alana emerged from the train station. People were milling all around, heading into restaurants or over to the multiplex on Sixty-eighth Street for the late show.
“You hungry?” Connor asked Alana.
“Mmmhmm. Starved,” Alana replied. “Must be being on the water or something.”
“Where do you feel like going?”
“There’s Gray’s Papaya,” Alana said, pointing to the huge, yellow hot-dog stand that covered most of the corner at Seventy-second and Amsterdam. “They have the best hot dogs in the city.”
Connor looked at her curiously. “All you want is a hot dog?”
Alana nodded. “With mustard and relish.”
“What, no onions?” Connor asked.
“No,” Alana said. “I don’t want—” She blushed prettily, her tongue getting all tangled in her words.
Connor laughed. “I appreciate the restraint on the onions,” he told her. “I won’t have any either.”
Since there were no tables at Gray’s Papaya and no place to stand by the counter, Alana and Connor grabbed their franks and drinks and ran across the street to the small park. They sat down on a bench beneath a streetlamp and watched as the people walked by. For some reason, there seemed to be aging hippies everywhere. Middle-aged men with bald heads and long, gray ponytails were walking side by side with women in long, Indian-print skirts.
“The Allman Brothers must be at the Beacon Theater again,” Alana deduced, pointing to the small rock venue down the block.
“The Allman Brothers are always at t
he Beacon,” Connor joked. “Either them or some other really old band.”
“It seems that way, anyway,” Alana agreed. “My parents went to see the Allmans last month.”
“Your parents are into the Allman Brothers?” Connor asked, sounding surprised.
Alana nodded. “And the Dead. Big time. When I was a kid, we had so many pictures of Jerry Garcia around the house, I thought he was a relative.”
Connor laughed. “So, you’re the product of two hippie freaks.”
“Pretty much,” Alana admitted. “Except now they’re lawyers, both with Legal Aid.”
“Helping the poor fight the system,” Connor noted with a grin. “Cool. I guess the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.”
“Nope. We’re all hopeless do-gooders in my family,” Alana replied. “It’s all about giving back. How about your folks?”
“Well, they’re not into the Dead, I’ll tell you that,” Connor said. “They’re not particularly into helping others, either. You probably wouldn’t like them very much when you first met them. But once you got to know them…you’d totally dislike them.”
Wow. That was pretty harsh. Obviously Connor had some issues with his parents. Alana decided to let the subject drop. They sat for a moment, quietly, until the silence became almost deafening.
“So, how’s the college thing going?” Connor asked her finally.
Alana shrugged. “I’m doing applications. So far, I’ve finished the ones for NYU, Hunter, and Columbia.”
“They’re all in New York,” Connor noted.
“Yeah. I want to stay in the city. I figure I can save money by living at home for at least the first year. Then I can maybe get a place with a few roommates or move into a dorm.”
“Oh, that’s great!” Connor said. He paused awkwardly. “I mean, it’s good that you’re staying in the city.”
Alana smiled. He was hoping she’d be in the city for a while. That was a very good sign.
Connor looked out into the bustling crowd. “I wish I had my camera,” he said. “I could get some really cool shots—especially if I used a slow shutter speed. That guy underneath the red stoplight—the one in the bright, orange and yellow shirt and the green pants—kind of looks like someone Gauguin would paint if he were living in New York in 2008.”
