by Nancy Krulik
“Things look pretty gorgeous from this angle, too,” Connor said. He was standing a few feet behind her, staring provocatively at her rear end.
Alana turned around suddenly and flashed him a huge smile. She was surprised to see a camera in his hand.
“Gotcha!” Connor said with a grin.
“Hey, no fair!” Alana exclaimed. “I didn’t have any warning.”
“I take candids, remember?” Connor asked. “By definition there are no warnings.”
“But I probably had my eyes closed or my mouth all weird,” Alana said. She walked Nicolette back over toward where Connor was standing. “Let me see,” she insisted, trying to peer over his shoulder at the image.
“Oh no you don’t,” Connor said. “No one sees my photos until I get a good look at them.”
“Is that some sort of artists’ rule or something?” Alana asked him.
“It’s my rule,” he said. “Besides, I like you with your eyes closed. You know you always close your eyes when you kiss?”
“I do?” Alana hadn’t been aware of it.
“Mmhmm,” Connor murmured, and to prove it, he kissed her again, this time pressing himself tighter against her as she leaned on a nearby tree.
Yep, it was true. She closed her eyes, all right.
Thank God for the tree, Alana thought as she felt his body pressing against her own and his hand running through her hair. Being this close to him almost made her feel faint.
The soft haze that enveloped her was broken immediately by Nicolette. The poodle was determined to make her presence known. She wedged herself between them once again and then began rubbing her soft, furry body against their calves. Immediately Alana pulled away.
Connor laughed and held his camera up, taking a close-up of her face.
“Oh, come on, now I’m a mess,” Alana said, blushing. But she had to admit she wondered what she looked like just after being kissed.
“Yeah,” Connor agreed. “But I kind of like you that way.”
“Oh, you do, do you?” Alana asked, bending down and using her free hand to pick up a few fallen leaves. She stood up and poured them over his head. “Now who’s the mess?” she asked playfully.
“You’re asking for it now,” Connor said, grabbing a handful of leaves of his own.
Alana was waiting for a storm of red, yellow, and orange leaves to fall on her. “Come on, Nicolette,” she said, playfully pulling on the dog’s leash. “Run.”
“I’m going to catch you,” Connor teased, taking off after them with the leaves in hand.
You already have, Alana thought. Totally.
“You want to come up and help me feed Nicolette?” Alana asked Connor later that afternoon as they arrived back at the Beresford.
Connor shook his head. “Your bosses will be back soon, and I don’t think they’d appreciate finding me at the apartment.”
Alana looked at him strangely. “Why would they care? You’re always up there.”
“Yeah, but nothing’s broken today. And I’d like to keep it that way,” Connor said, hitting his head playfully. “They don’t need to know I let myself in just to see you.”
“I guess you’re right,” Alana agreed. “What are you doing tomorrow?”
“I have another head-shot session,” Connor said. “A girl from The Actors Institute, just starting out.”
“Oh,” Alana said, trying not to sound too disappointed.
“Wednesday?” Connor asked.
“I’ve got all four dogs on Wednesdays,” Alana reminded him. “They’re a handful.”
“You’re worth it,” he assured her.
“I was planning to take them to the dog run at Riverside Park,” Alana explained. “I’d rather let them all run around than try to keep them leashed in the park.” She glanced down at her knee. Beneath the jeans she still had a little scar from the time the dogs had pulled her through the Ramble.
“I can meet you there,” Connor suggested.
“Cool. Do you know where it is?”
“Sure. Around Eighty-seventh Street,” he said. “I’ve been there.”
“But you don’t have a dog,” Alana noted. “Why would you even…?”
“Ever since I met a certain really cute dog walker, I’ve been doing my research,” Connor told her. He bent down and kissed her on the cheek. “Wednesday. At the Riverside run.”
As Connor turned and headed toward the subway, Nicolette started to pull on her leash as if she were trying to follow him. “I know exactly how you feel,” Alana whispered to the dog as she led her back into the building.
Thirteen
“Two tall Mocha Frappuccinos,” the barista at the Starbucks at Eighty-sixth and Columbus called out.
Immediately Stella jumped up from the table and grabbed the drinks from the counter. “Mmm…nectar of the gods,” she murmured. “I need mad caffeine tonight. Big English test tomorrow.”
“I know,” Alana said. “We’re having it too. And I’ve got to read all of The Great Gatsby by tomorrow. Good thing it’s short.”
“Short but intense,” Stella warned. “Get the Cliffs Notes.”
“Gotcha,” Alana said, making a mental note to stop at the Barnes & Noble on Broadway to do just that. She looked over at her best friend and sighed. “I feel like I haven’t seen you in a million years.”
“Not my fault,” Stella said. “I’ve been trying to see you for the past few days. But it’s all Connor and the dogs.”
Alana knew that was the truth. “I’ll make it up to you,” she insisted. “I’m going to see a band at the Red Rooster on Friday night. Why don’t you come with?”
“You’re not bringing Connor?”
It wasn’t like Alana hadn’t thought about asking him. But she didn’t want to be one of those girls who dumped her female friends the minute she got a boyfriend. If Connor could actually be called her boyfriend. Alana wasn’t exactly sure. “Nope, you’re my guest,” she assured her best friend.
“Okay, I’ll come. As long as you’re not trying to fix me up again,” Stella told her. “Last time you tried that, I spent a whole night listening to my ‘date’ talk about you.”
Alana made a face. “That wasn’t the plan, I swear,” she insisted sincerely. “I really was fixing up you guys.”
“Chillax,” Stella told her. “I know.”
“And I swear I will never try to fix you up again,” Alana vowed.
“Pinky swear,” Stella insisted, holding out her little finger so she and Alana could relive their childhood promise routine.
Alana giggled, crooking her pinky through Stella’s. “But you were right about Connor. He’s crazy about me, which I still can hardly believe.”
Stella eyed her curiously. “Fishing for compliments?” she joked.
Alana shook her head. “No. It’s just weird to think someone I like so much can like me just as much. I’m telling you, Stel, it’s been amazing!”
“I know. You’ve told me every last detail.” Stella paused and laughed at the redness rising up in Alana’s cheeks. “Okay, so maybe not every detail. But enough for me to get the picture. Just promise me you’re not going to jump into anything. It’s not that long after Sammy.”
“Oh, I’m totally over Sammy,” Alana said. “It would never have worked out—at least not in that forever-and-ever way.”
“Yeah, that was a three-year mistake, all right,” Stella replied.
“No, not a mistake,” Alana corrected her. “More like a learning period. Going out with Sammy made me realize what I do and don’t want in a guy. Every experience I’ve had has led me to where I am today.”
“Ooo, very existential,” Stella joked. Then she turned serious. “Look, I’m just saying to be careful. No guy is absolutely perfect.”
“I never said Connor was…”
“Yeah, you did,” Stella insisted. “And I’m telling you that no one can be that hot, that creative, and that charming without something being a little bit wrong. I’m not sayin
g don’t go out with him; I’m just saying keep your guard up.”
Alana frowned slightly. Poor Stella. She’d been so burned by Frank that she didn’t trust anyone. And nothing Alana could tell her was going to change that. The only way Stella was ever going to believe in true love was for her to fall head over heels into it.
“Anyway,” Stella said, obviously wanting to change subject. “How about helping the recycling club out with newspaper recycling next Sunday? We’re all meeting at the school to do the bundles.”
Alana didn’t answer right away. Instead she took a huge sip of her Frappuccino and stared out the window. Sunday? She hadn’t spoken to Connor about the weekend yet. What if he…
“Hey, you don’t have to let me know this second,” Stella said, letting her off the hook. “Just keep the date in the back of your head, okay?”
“Okay,” Alana told her. “I’ll let you know before Sunday, I promise. But before that, I’ve got to get through tomorrow’s English test. You wanna fill me in on some of the themes in Great Gatsby?”
Stella reached into her book bag and pulled out her tattered copy of the book. It was littered with multicolored Post-its, with each color representing a different theme of literary technique.
“Impressive,” Alana complimented her. “I don’t know anyone else who goes to all that trouble.”
“You also don’t know anyone else who’s pulling an A in English,” Stella reminded her. She shook her head as Alana pulled out a pristine, unmarked copy of the book. “What would you do without me?” she asked, only half teasing.
“I don’t even want to think about it,” Alana replied.
Alana was completely fried before she even reached the dog run on Wednesday afternoon. Apparently one night was not long enough to completely digest the complexities of F. Scott Fitzgerald’s novel. She didn’t have high hopes for her English-exam grade. She wouldn’t fail, but she wasn’t going to come anywhere near the A she was sure Stella would receive.
And then there were the dogs. All four of them. And none of them seemed to have to go to the bathroom at the same time. What should have been a ten-minute walk from Frisky’s house had turned into a half-hour marathon of sniffing, stopping, peeing, and pooping.
What made the length of her journey even more interminable was the fact that she knew Connor had promised to meet her at the dog run. If he’d already shown up and not seen her there, he might have thought she’d stood him up. Hopefully, he would call her cell to check, but so far there were no calls.
When she reached the dog run, Connor still wasn’t there. Now a darker thought crossed Alana’s mind. What if he was standing her up?
“Hey, Bridget,” Alana asked as she shut the gate behind her, “have you seen a guy who is about six feet tall with longish brown hair hanging around?”
Bridget shook her head. “Not that I’ve noticed. What kind of dog does he have?”
“He doesn’t have a dog,” Alana began. “He…”
Just then someone snuck behind Alana and covered her eyes, startling her. “Guess who?” he teased in an obviously disguised voice.
Alana grinned and peeled his hands away. She turned around and…“Oh, Leo, it’s you,” she said, unable to hide her disappointment.
“Gee, glad to see you too, Alana,” Leo said with a grimace.
“No, I mean, I am happy you’re here, it’s just that I was supposed to be meeting someone and he didn’t show up,” Alana explained feebly.
“Well, then, he’s missing the big event,” Bridget interrupted
“Big event?” Alana asked.
“Sure, it’s my Goldie’s third birthday!” Bridget exclaimed, sounding somewhat surprised that Alana and Leo hadn’t had the date on their calendars. “I’ve got a dog cake from the Barkery for all of Goldie’s friends. Didn’t I tell you guys about the party?”
Leo choked back a laugh. “My invitation must’ve gotten lost in the mail.”
“You’re not invited,” Bridget told him flatly. “Only dogs. I have treats for Princess and Morpheus, and Alana’s four dogs too.” She stopped suddenly and looked over at the gate. “And speaking of treats…mmm…who’s that delicious-looking young man?”
Alana followed her gaze, hoping…“Connor!” she exclaimed. “You got here.”
Connor sauntered over, with his hands in his pockets, his long hair blowing, and a smile that could be seen halfway across Manhattan. He was so incredibly beautiful. Alana felt herself naturally drawn to him, as though he were a magnet and she was steel. She began walking across the gravel yard toward him. But before she could get there, Nicolette came flying through the yard, running so fast she appeared to be nothing more than a black, furry blur. Immediately the dog began jumping up and down to greet Connor. Alana watched as he stopped where he was and bent down to greet her, letting the poodle lick his face for a moment.
“That poodle sure has good taste,” Bridget remarked.
“Yeah, she does,” Alana agreed. Then she walked over to Connor and Nicolette. “Hope I’m not breaking up this love fest,” she teased him.
Connor looked up and grinned. “What can I say? I’m a sucker for brunettes.” He stood up and lazily ran a finger through Alana’s golden brown locks before kissing her heartily on the lips. “Mmm…,” he said playfully. “Your lips taste a whole lot better than Nicolette’s.”
“I would hope so,” Alana told him. “I haven’t been eating liver-flavored kibble all afternoon. And she’s not wearing strawberry-flavored lip gloss.”
Connor made a face. “Liver and strawberries. Now, there’s a nasty combination.” He kissed Alana again. “I’ll stick with the berries,” he joked.
“Is this the guy you were looking for?” Bridget asked as she walked over toward Alana and Connor.
All my life, Alana thought. But out loud she said, “Yeah. This is Connor. Connor this is Bridget.”
“I’m Goldie’s mother,” Bridget said, pointing to the golden retriever with the cone-shaped hat on her head. “It’s her birthday.”
“Bridget’s having a party for Goldie,” Alana explained to Connor.
“And you’re just in time,” Bridget told him. “Come on, everyone gather around. I stopped at the Barkery and picked up a special dog-friendly cake.”
Alana watched as Connor tried to keep the amusement from being too apparent on his face. But by now she could read his eyes. And while he was managing to keep a straight face, his eyes were laughing. Any minute now, he was going to lose it. It was probably best to get him away from Bridget before he did. “Come on, I want to introduce you to someone,” she said, pulling him by the hand over to where Leo was standing.
“Connor, this is my friend Leo,” Alana said, introducing him. “We’re both dog walkers. And Leo, this is Connor…,” she said, pausing for a minute, unsure of how to phrase their relationship. “My…um…”
“I’m the boyfriend,” Connor said in a light, relaxed tone. Not at all nasty or territorial, though, the way Sammy had come to be toward the end. Connor was just stating a fact.
Alana could feel that now-familiar tingling running through her body again. Boyfriend. He’d said it. With one word, he’d defined their relationship. Now she had no more questions. Alana laced her fingers through his. He winked at her and gave her hand a squeeze.
Alana looked into Leo’s eyes to check his expression. Was he surprised she hadn’t mentioned having a boyfriend before?
Apparently not. Leo just grinned at her. “Chemistry?” he asked her.
Alana nodded. “Yeah.”
“What?” Connor asked, trying to decipher what was going on between the two of them.
“Oh, nothing,” Alana told him. “Just an old joke between two dog walkers.” She watched Connor’s face for a sign of jealousy, like Sammy had shown when she and Leo had spoken that way. But there wasn’t a hint of it. Connor seemed perfectly fine with the idea of Alana having friends of the male persuasion. He was secure in himself—which made him that much sex
ier to her.
“Oh, no, check that out,” Leo said, pointing toward the middle of the yard. Suddenly barking could be heard everywhere as the dogs went running toward Bridget.
Bridget was holding the cake in the box. But the dogs’ keen sense of smell permeated right through the cardboard. Alana had no idea what was actually in that cake, but whatever it was, the dogs wanted it.
“Get down! Get down!” Bridget shouted.
“Curly! Nicolette! Frisky! Noodles!” Alana shouted. “Come!”
Other dog owners called to their pets as well. But the dogs were way past listening. It was clear the only thing they wanted was that cake. They were jumping higher and higher, barking at Bridget. Finally, it was Goldie who, with one gigantic body slam, knocked her owner to the ground. In a second the cake was in the gravel. A moment later it was gone. Completely scarfed up by the dogs.
“Oh, God. Bridget, I’m so sorry,” Alana said as she helped her to her feet.
“We didn’t even get to sing ‘Happy Birthday’ or anything.” Bridget looked as though she might cry.
“It’s okay. We can sing it now,” Alana assured her.
“But you’re supposed to sing it before you eat the cake,” Bridget insisted. “That’s how it’s always done.”
“Goldie doesn’t know that,” Alana assured her. “Come on. Let’s sing.”
Bridget looked at her doubtfully but began to sing slowly. “Happy birthday to you. Happy birthday…”
As she joined in with Bridget, Alana turned toward Leo and Connor, hoping they, too, would sing. But the boys were standing by the fence, laughing hysterically. As soon as the song was finished, Alana went over to join them.
“You guys are terrible,” she said, playfully chastising the two of them.
“I was singing, really,” Leo joked. “Just in a pitch only dogs could hear.”
