Natalia's arms went around my neck and pushed our foreheads together. "Let's do this."
The New York streets were filled with traffic, and people were out enjoying their Sunday. We walked down Columbus, passing a staggering number of upscale shops. We found a Starbucks, and Natalia refused to walk any further without caffeine. I knew the feeling; I was a caffeine addict myself. Once we re-fueled, we continued to walk the busy street.
Every time our arms brushed, we'd look at each other and laugh. I thought about reaching out to hold her hand, but figured it would go against taking things slow. We passed the streets, running through the crosswalks and dodging the advancing cars. Natalia wasn't used to the city, so each time we came to a crosswalk, she would stop, insisting we wait for the walk signal. Each time I would drag her along when no cars were in sight, even if the safety symbol wasn't displayed. She was such a newbie and I had to teach her to brave the traffic. If she waited for every walk signal in the city, she'd be late a lot.
"How are you ever going to call yourself a New Yorker if you can't cross the street on a red light?" I laughed. Still smiling, I continued, "I want to show you something. You up for an adventure?"
"Always. Where?" she asked, excited.
"You'll see."
When we reached the entrance to Central Park, Natalia was in awe. Her face was breathtaking. I remembered how it felt seeing it for the first time. My mother brought me here. I was twelve and we had just finished having brunch at Sirio. She told me she had a surprise waiting for me and we had to hurry. We ran through the streets, laughing, arms linked. When we reached the park, I held the same look Natalia did.
"Come on," I took Natalia's hand and lead the way to an old, wooden bench.
"This is what you wanted to show me?"
"Look," I pointed to the small silver sign posted on the backrest of the bench, "this is what I wanted to show you." She tried to read the inscription aloud.
"Pour la personne la plus extraordinaire que je connaisse. Continue de danser."
The way she read the French inscription was hilarious. Obviously, she'd never studied the language.
"Don't laugh at me! What does that mean?"
I repeated the French inscription, and then said it in English: "'To the most extraordinary person I know. Keep dancing.' My mother had this bench inscribed for me. The day she surprised me with it was the day that confirmed what I wanted to do for the rest of my life."
"That's beautiful. Your mom is very supportive of you." Natalia's hand found mine, as we sat side by side.
"She's only supportive when my dad's not around. He has no idea she did this for me. If he found out, he would probably have it torn down." The day my mother revealed the park bench, she reminded me that it was our little secret, and to never let my father find out. He frightened her. My father had never been physically abusive to either of us, but he had ways of making anyone do what he wanted. Except for me. "So, that's what I wanted to show you." I rubbed my hand along the weathered wood, remembering all the happy times I'd had in this very spot. I'd been coming here for the past six years, sometimes just sitting and listening to music.
I could have sat at that bench the rest of the day with Natalia, but we left to visit a few clothing stores before heading back to the dorm.
"Burberry. We have to go in here," I demanded. I could never pass a Burberry and not go in.
"I can't even afford to buy a sock in that place. Do we really have to go in? I feel like the sales associates judge me every time I go in there." Natalia's face scrunched up and she looked like a five-year-old who had just had their toy taken away.
"Five minutes. That's all. I just have to check out their new stuff."
Natalia crossed her arms and huffed. "You know it's not considered new once you've already seen it, right?" she asked, annoyed.
"I haven't seen the stuff, actually. Let's go." I pulled her arm, practically dragging her inside.
A tall, blonde, and rather stone-faced sales associate greeted us as we entered, without leaving her spot at the counter. I was surprised she hadn't recognized me, since I was a frequent shopper at this store. I walked over to the sweater section as Natalia dragged her feet behind me.
"Are you really that unhappy that we're here?" I turned to look at her just as she was making faces at my back. "How old are you?"
"Everything in this store is a rip-off."
"Are you really a girl, or are you just pretending?" I lightly squeezed her arms to check for muscles. "I don't feel any crazy biceps." She swatted my arms away.
"I'm just a smart consumer who doesn't like to get raped in the ass by credit card companies!"
My jaw dropped from her statement. I wasn't used to being in the presence of someone so economical. "It's a good thing my dad pays the bill."
With that, she dramatically rolled her eyes and pretended to gag. "Oh, look." She reached around me and snatched a blue cashmere sweater from the rack. "This would look great on you. Buy it. Let's go." She shoved the sweater into my arms and started walking to the register.
"I already have this," I called.
Natalia stopped, turned around, and huffed loudly.
"Fine, we'll go," I hung the sweater back on its hanger and followed Natalia out the door. "I'm never shopping with you again."
As soon as our feet hit the sidewalk, a smile appeared on Natalia's face.
"You got your way." I started to bow down to her, but she stopped me.
"That's not funny!" Her hands met my waist, and she laughed freely.
"You pick somewhere for us to go and I'll just follow." I gave my best pouty face, hoping she'd lean over and kiss me.
"Oh, Samson. Don't be such a baby." She reached her hand up and playfully slapped my cheek.
Did she seriously just slap me?
The day flew by. Samson and I roamed the city for hours. My favorite part was when he showed me his park bench. It felt good having him share something so personal with me. We'd been shopping–Hugo Boss, Brooks Brothers, and now, Sephora, which I was quite happy about.
"Just because it's considered a cosmetics store, doesn't mean guys aren't allowed in."
Samson furrowed his brow but then began to laugh.
I raised my hand to the front of my mouth, faking a surprised look. "I had no idea guys went into the store. I thought they carried cologne strictly so girlfriends had something to buy their boyfriends."
"Well," he said playfully, placing his hand on the edge of my shoulder, "you're wrong."
"Fine. I'm wrong. Let's go get some wrinkle cream for all these laugh lines you're causing."
Samson dropped his arm back to his side and gave me his best brooding look. "You're a feisty one. Has anyone ever told you that, Natalia?"
Every time Samson said my name, the hair on the back of my neck rose. The way he pronounced the last syllable, the way his tongue hit the roof of his mouth so gently, it was the sexiest thing I'd ever heard. I restrained myself from grabbing him around the neck and pulling his lips to mine. I wanted to kiss him so badly.
The wind blew my hair across my face. Samson's finger lightly caressed my cheek, moving traces of hair out of the way. I peeked up at him, a grin now showing on his face. I stared at the sidewalk to keep a straight face.
"You're the first person that's ever called me that. I don't even know what feisty means." I began to laugh and pulled my messy hair into a ponytail.
"You're an awful liar. You can't even look at me while saying that."
"I can." My eyes followed the length of his body until they lingered on his face. His rounded jaw framed his oval face perfectly. His blue eyes stood out against his slightly tanned skin, which made his blonde hair appear lighter. "I don't even know–" I began laughing, unable to finish the rest of my sentence.
We laughed for at least five minutes. We'd stop, wipe our eyes from the tears, then look at each other and begin laughing again. When we finally calmed down, Samson wiped his eyes with both hands, and gazed
up at the tall building in front of us. His long, black eyelashes easily touched his eyelids. I never understood why most guys were so lucky to have long eyelashes, while most girls had to curl them, glob on the mascara, and glue on the fake lashes just for them to appear voluptuous. If you ask me, girls really got the short end of the stick.
"What do you say we go into Sephora and then I'll let you buy me a coffee?" Samson asked playfully.
"Yeah, that sounds fair," I retorted, rolling my eyes.
Samson and I spent the next hour in Sephora, spraying each other with awful smelling perfume and colognes. He was convinced that my new scent should be a perfume made by Hello Kitty, saying it would go perfectly with my spirited personality. In reply, I sprayed him with Justin Bieber's perfume, which only ended up bothering my sense of smell more than his. By the time we left the store, Samson had picked up not one, but two bottles of his favorite cologne, Bond No. 9. I was astounded when I saw the cashier ring it up. People really paid hundreds to smell good when a bar of soap cost less than five dollars?
When we walked outside, the sun was low in the sky. As we continued down the street, neither of us said a word. I didn't want the day to end, but I wasn't sure if Samson felt the same way.
"There's this great Italian restaurant nearby called Salumeria Rosi, if you want to stop and grab some food before heading back." Samson stopped walking and reached for my elbow.
I looked at the face I had studied all afternoon. I had memorized each line, the mole that stood out under his right eye, and the way he quickly licked his lips before speaking.
"Like a date?"
"Like a getting-to-know-one-another type thing." This time, he licked his lips after he spoke.
"That's a great idea. It'll give me more material to make fun of you." I reached up to lightly slap his cheek, but Samson grabbed my hand.
"What's with the slapping?" His eyes widened as he dropped my hand, my skin tingling from the contact. "You're so violent."
"Can't take it?" I bit my bottom lip. Samson stared at my mouth with a wild look in his eyes.
"If we hadn't agreed to take things slow, I would kiss you senseless," Samson said earnestly, "right now, in the middle of this sidewalk, hoping everyone would stop and stare."
With that vision in my mind, I would have been okay if we were kissing in front of the whole world.
It was 9 P.M. and I had spent nearly the entire day with Natalia. When I dropped her off, there was a moment we lingered in her doorway. I didn't know if I should kiss her, hug her, or shake her hand. We had spent the day laughing, flirting, and accidentally touching each other. Our Sunday ended just the way I'd wanted it to: with a perfect kiss.
I entered my dark room, not surprised that Myers wasn't there. I put my shopping bags on top of my desk and strolled over to the window. Opening the oatmeal colored drapes, I stared out into the sky. The clouds were heavy, soon to open up and drench the city. My phone, still in the pocket of my jeans, vibrated. It was my mother and I knew why she was calling.
"Hello?" I asked, drained from the adventurous day.
"Hi, my baby boy. How are you?"
Hearing my mother's voice put a smile on my face. "I'm good. I just got back into my dorm room. I was out most of the day." I left out what I'd been doing. It was too soon to tell her about Natalia.
"I got a call from Aubrey."
I knew at that moment that Aubrey had told my mother everything. She probably twisted it around, blaming me for everything.
"Before you say anything else, know that it was going to happen sooner or later." My voice was harsher than I wanted it to be, but I needed her to understand.
"This is bad. You and Aubrey have had years together. You can't just throw something like that away, love." My mother's voice remained soft, not wanting to rile me up.
"We did have years together, and now it's time to move on. You know, just as much as I do, that she's changed. She's not the same girl."
"She's just going through a phase. You know that."
My parents continued to believe that she was the same sweet girl from down the road; the one who would leave love letters for me on our porch every Sunday.
"Mom, it's done," I said with certainty. My stomach wrenched. I knew I'd always miss the she used to be. I heard my mom sniffle into the receiver.
"I just don't understand why you're ending a relationship that's been important to you. It breaks my heart knowing that I'll never see you two married with your own children someday. Sammy, please tell me that you'll consider working on things with her."
I hated letting my mother down. I'd avoided it my entire life, sometimes going along with whatever she wanted just to make her happy, but I was past that.
"It's not going to happen. I'm moving on and so should she."
Silence. My mother stayed quiet for awhile before I heard her delicate voice again.
"I love you very much. If this is what you've decided, then I'll stand by you." She continued to sniffle. "Your father won't be happy about this at all, but I'll talk to him and hopefully calm him down. Will you be coming home anytime soon?"
It was nice to know that at least one parent missed me while I was away.
"I'll visit soon. We can go out to brunch, like old times." Growing up, my mother and I would go out for brunch every Saturday, leaving my sullen father at home. It was our one day together, and we'd order the type of food you'd never find in our own refrigerator. It had always my favorite part of the week.
"I'd love that. You take care, sweetie. Call me if you need anything, and," she paused, "if Aubrey tries to call you, please don't ignore her. She's hurting."
"I love you, Mom."
I hung up my phone and placed it on the edge of my desk. Just as I was about to lay down in bed, I heard a knock on the door. Two more knocks. I opened my door and saw Aubrey sitting on the ground. Her face was pale. Her makeup had worn off, the mascara smeared under her eyes. She looked up at me and began to sob. Instinctually, I knelt down and put my arms around her, rocking her back and forth. We stayed that way for a few minutes, until Aubrey lifted her face to mine, moving in to kiss me.
"Aubrey, no." I placed my hands on her shoulders and gently pushed her away. "What are you doing here?"
"Did your mom call you?" Her voice was so faint, I could barely understand her.
"Yes." I knew Aubrey wanted to hear that I talked to my mother and changed my mind. When she realized I hadn't, she began sobbing again. "Aubs, please stop crying," I rubbed her arms, hoping to calm her down. People passed through the hallway, turning to look at the commotion.
"Don't give up on us. I'm so sorry, Sam."
"Come on," I said, lifting her from the ground. "Let's go into my room where we can talk privately."
Aubrey stood up and wiped the tears from her eyes. She sat on the edge of my bed, her elbows on her knees, and I bent down in front of her.
"Why are you still in town, Aubrey?"
"I can't imagine my life without you. I don't want to live without you. Please, Samson, please take me back."
It had been a long time since I'd seen Aubrey this vulnerable. For the past year, her outer shell was so thick, it would have taken a bulldozer to tear it down.
"Aubrey, I don't know what to say."
She stared down at me, not saying a word. Her face portrayed everything she was feeling: anger, abandonment, heartbreak. Aubrey suddenly stood up, heading for the door.
"Wait," I called out.
She stopped, her hand on the doorknob.
"I don't know if we can be friends, Aubrey. I don't know what will happen. I do know there are going to be times where it will be awkward to be around one another, but our families are best friends. It will be impossible to avoid each other. Let's at least try and be civil to each other."
"That's impossible. You've ripped my heart out and shown no remorse, Samson." Tears ran down her cheeks and she swiped them away with the back of her hand.
"What do you want me to
do, Aubrey? Do you want me to stay with you for the rest of my life, even if I'm unhappy? We're not happy together. You deserve better than that." I stood up and walked to the door.
"Did you ever love me?" She looked up at me.
"You're the only girl I've ever loved. I fell in love with you the moment I saw you running across my lawn in your ruffled, pink dress. I remember that moment like it was yesterday. Aubrey, I'll always love you, just not in the same way."
A tear fell from her eye and she didn't lift her hand to wipe it away. I caught the tear with my finger, keeping my hand pressed softly against her cheek.
"Goodbye, Samson."
Her goodbye was final. She walked out of my room without turning back.
I lay in my bed, my room filled with darkness. My cell phone vibrated on my nightstand, bringing me out of my daze.
"I'm happy we had this day. Thank you for sharing it with me."
I shared the feeling with Natalia, but it wasn't enough to shake the sadness.
It was Monday morning and my body refused to uncoil itself from the warm blankets. My alarm was going off. I was excited to get to class and see Samson. We had such a fantastic day yesterday. I don't think I'd smiled that much since my dad was around. Samson never answered the text I'd sent him last night. Maybe he had fallen asleep.
After my shower, I put on black leggings and an oversized Ramones T-shirt. As I was brushing out my hair, the door swung open, and in walked Kingsley. Her hair looked as if she had stuck her finger in a socket.
"What happened to you?" I asked, motioning to her hair.
"This would be called just-got-fucked hair." She threw off her heels and sauntered over to her closet.
"Who was the victim this time?" I snarked.
She turned around and threw a hanger at me, missing my face by an inch.
"Geez, I'm just kidding! If you were just fucked, shouldn't you be in a better mood?"
"I'm in a fantastic mood, actually." She peeled off her skinny jeans and tossed them into the corner. "How was your night, Sandra Dee?"
In the Air (The City #1) Page 11
