by Wendy Owens
“He cheated, Paige. He was wrong, not me,” Bailey argued.
“Oh my God, I’m not doing this with you again!” Paige yelled, turning toward the door and walking out of the apartment, calling over her shoulder, “Leave your keys on the counter.”
I stood there for a moment, staring at the girl whose anger had shifted to pain. I felt like I should say something, but I suddenly realized I was alone in the apartment with her. Without a word, I darted out into the hallway and down the steps, catching up with Paige on the sidewalk.
“What the hell was that?” I asked, a little unnerved by the confrontation.
“Want to get some coffee?” Paige asked, ignoring my question.
“I suppose,” I answered, secretly eager to wrap up the deal.
“There’s a great place down a block, Ninth Street Espresso. They make an insanely good espresso with milk.” Paige was clearly focused on not talking about what had just happened.
“Never had one,” I replied.
“Never had what?” Paige asked, shoving her hands into her pockets, wiggling a stray pebble loose from her gladiator sandals.
“An espresso,” I answered flatly.
“Like, ever?” she asked.
“I tend to just drink plain old black coffee,” I explained. “I guess I’m boring that way.”
“You’ve got to learn to live a little my friend,” Paige commanded, flashing me a brief smile.
“So I have to tell you, I love the apartment, if you’re interested in having me move in, I would really like to rent the room from you for the next two semesters.” I held my breath, hoping she was as interested in me as I was in the unit.
Paige stopped just outside the door of a shop with a coffee cup decal on the glass. She looked at me through squinted eyes. “You’re not going to end up going all single white female on me like Bailey, are you?”
“Well, since I don’t know how she went all crazy on you I can’t make any promises,” I replied, in hopes I might get more of the mysterious ex-roommate picture.
“Fair enough,” Paige said with a shrug, not taking the bait, and opened the door.
When I walked into the narrow shop I was in awe. Everything in the city still seemed to wow me. Where I came from, we had either Starbucks or the country diners. There was nothing like these trendy coffee shops. Behind the counter was a map of the world splayed across the back wall, and in the corner the words, ‘Ninth Street Espresso’ were stenciled. A simple sign hung at one end of the counter with the minimalist menu displayed across it, making your choice simple. However, Paige was right; I wanted to live a little. I wanted to try everything. Paige made the decision easy for me when she ordered two espressos and milk.
I pulled my money from my pocket, preparing to pay, when she waved me off with a smile. “Hey Bill,” she chirped to the man at the register, moving down to wait for her order. They made small talk for a moment, and I wondered how often she came to the location. Once the order was ready she snatched up the cups and turned to take a seat. I lifted my eyebrows, clearly puzzled by the transaction not involving the exchange of money.
Paige giggled and then whispered, “The boys own this building. They haven’t made me pay for coffee since I started dating Christian.”
“Wow, nice perk,” I replied, taking a seat across from her. She slid the small cup in front of me, and I watched the steam rise off of it, dancing through the air.
Raising her cup, she extended her hand in my direction, gesturing a toast. As the cups clanged together she said, “To trying new things.”
I could tell Paige liked to try new things. It was obvious she was not afraid to live; even when she walked it seemed like her small frame translated to a beast on the prowl, searching for an adventure. I envied that about her. I missed my four walls in Indiana, the security, and the sanctuary of solitude it had become for me. It wasn’t who I had wanted to become, but simply who I was comfortable being.
“So—” I pushed, “are you going to tell me the story about your ex-roomy, or do I just have to guess?”
“Your guessing might be fun,” Paige answered with a grin.
I sipped the drink, the creamy dream of it lingering on my tongue. The bitterness, and reason I had never tried one, were nowhere to be found. Another thing I had been missing out on because of my baseless fears. “Oh my God! This is so good.”
“Stick with me, hon, there are so many good things I can show you in this city.” I couldn’t decide if her offer excited or frightened me, but then I decided it was perhaps a little of both.
“So back to crazy girl story,” I said with a laugh.
“There’s not much to tell. She slept with Colin and tried to make it into something more than it was. Totally became a stalker chick,” Paige’s voice carried an intense disdain.
“Wait, what?” I gasped. “Colin is your landlord?”
“Yeah? Why do you think I get such a good deal? Christian and I have been together since we were kids,” Paige explained.
“Does the guy own the entire block? This is insane.” I thought of the way he looked, trying to figure out exactly how old he was, but all I could remember was his flat stomach and that he had called me Orange.
“It’s complicated. A lot of messed up shit happened to the boys pretty early. Colin has always been driven. Say what you will about him, but he never beats around the bush when it comes to women he sees. I know it seems like I argue with him, but it’s more like a big bro, little sis thing with us. He wasn’t even interested in Bailey; she was the one who kept pushing it. He let her know it was a one time thing, but she thought she could make it into more.”
“So, he’s a player?” I asked, not shielding my revolt. I wasn’t surprised that someone as hot as him had such little respect for women.
Paige laughed. “I don’t know. I guess. I don’t think of him that way. He just doesn’t want commitment right now, you know?”
“I guess.” I did know. Perhaps not in the same way as Colin, but the last thing I wanted again was a relationship. After Ashton I made up my mind it was best for all parties involved that I stay away from love.
“Colin isn’t all bad. Just don’t sleep with him, and you won’t have a problem,” Paige instructed.
“No problem there, I’m completely uninterested.”
“Really? Not your type? Or do you already have a boyfriend?” Paige inquired, leaning forward, eager to get the scoop on my life.
“He isn’t even remotely my type.” Because no man was my type. “I had a relationship end badly, I’m just looking to get through this last year of school.”
“Oh school—that’s right. You need a space to paint. Do you want me to ask Colin if you can use part of the warehouse to paint? I know there’s a lot of vacant space in there right now. He’d probably even let you use it free of charge since you’re my roommate now,” Paige offered.
“No!” I quickly replied. I wanted nothing from the king of one-night stands. The idea of even living in an apartment he owned kind of made my skin crawl. “I can work at our apartment, or there’s studio space at school I can reserve.”
“All right,” Paige said, flopping back into her chair and shrugging. “Just an idea.”
“Thanks, I appreciate it,” I said, pushing my lips together into a half-hearted smile.
“When did you plan to move in?” Paige asked looking out the large glass window, watching the people walking by on the street.
“I don’t have much stuff, it’s all back at the motel. If it’s all right, I can go get it now and be moved in tonight,” I offered, hoping the aggressive move in schedule wouldn’t be a problem.
“Awesome!” Paige said. “And actually, Bailey was paid up through the end of the month so don’t worry about paying until September first.”
“Are you sure?” I asked, shocked by her generosity.
“Yeah, it’s not a problem. I guess I can call you Emmie now.” Paige gave me a grin, a red curl hanging over one eye.
I remembered the cab ride and the comment she had made about us being strangers. There was that wit again.
Chapter Four
I pulled the phone away from my ear for a moment as I slipped my shirt over my head. “Yes, Mom, I’m sure everything will be fine.”
“I mean it, Emmie, you don’t know these people. How do you know this Paige girl isn’t into drugs or something worse?” my mother’s soft voice queried.
“Seriously? Did you just ask me that?” I chuckled, throwing my bag, which was heavily weighted with fresh art supplies, over my shoulder, and rushing out the door. Pulling it shut as I left, I dropped my keys into the pocket of the shirt Paige had let me borrow. She apparently felt my wardrobe was unfit for such a momentous occasion as the first day of classes. I had to leave it unbuttoned to account for the fact that my breasts were at least three times larger than hers. She offered to let me wear one of her tanks that had a slit down the middle of the chest, but I assured her my undershirt would suffice.
“I am absolutely serious. When I told you to go to New York I never imagined you would have to live with a complete stranger,” Mom rebutted.
As I turned the corner, beginning my seven-block march to school, I rolled my eyes. She had been the one to practically push me out the door when I left Indiana, and now she was freaking out on me. “What did you think would happen? Do you actually know how expensive New York is?”
“I don’t know, I figured there would be some kind of dorm or something.” I knew she was worried, and I was pretty sure she was missing me as much as I was missing her.
“Well, that’s not how it works, but don’t worry, please. Paige is very sweet, and her boyfriend only lives a couple doors down so if anything goes wrong I am sure he will be there in heartbeat,” I said, attempting to comfort her.
“What kind of thing would go wrong?” she pushed, now sounding even more panicked.
“Oh my God, Mom! Really? Nothing is going to go wrong, I am just trying to make you feel better,” I admitted. I tapped my foot impatiently at the corner light, waiting for the walk sign.
“Well, what about this other character you were telling me about? Her boyfriend’s brother or something?” Leave it to my mom to fish out any information where a man was involved.
“Colin?” I asked, already knowing exactly whom she was talking about.
“Yeah. Is he okay?”
“I’m not sure what you mean by okay, but since I don’t live with him, and have no intentions of speaking much to him, I don’t think you have anything to worry about.” My tone was clearly sounding agitated. “Look Mom, I’m almost to school. I need to call you back, all right?”
I crossed the street quickly, practically being carried by the sea of people around me. “I worry, Emmie. Sorry if that upsets you.”
“I’m not upset, Mom, I just really have to go,” I explained, before saying goodbye and attempting to end the call. Instead of ending the call, however, the phone flipped out of my hand. In an attempt to catch the device, I outstretched my arm, causing the weight of my bag to pull me forward and send me toppling over, my belongings spilling out and the contents sliding across the sidewalk, landing near my phone.
“Shit!” I exclaimed, pulling the strap from over my head and scooping the randomly strewn items into my bag. I wasn’t one who would normally curse, but it seemed as though the moment merited the frustration.
Reaching out for the culprit of the disaster, my phone, my hand instead met with the back of someone else’s hand. Following with my fingertips, I made my way up to a strong and muscular arm, realizing someone else had beat me to the phone.
Startled, I hopped to my feet not noticing the man had extended his other hand to me in assistance. When I was again upright my eyes shifted around wildly, mostly staring at the hand that had my phone concealed within it. I wasn’t sure why, but the entire situation made me anxious, that is, until he reached out with his empty hand and touched my arm.
“Are you all right?” he asked, staring at me as if he were inspecting me for damages.
“Umm—” Really? Umm, is all you can come up with? I internally scolded myself.
Instead of delivering an intelligent line, I stared blankly. The man was gorgeous in a rugged and mischievous way. His eyes were dark, his stubble just beginning to show, his jawline wide and strong, a dimple on one cheek. He kept his chestnut hair trimmed tight on the sides, but the top slightly messed. I’m not sure what came over me in that moment, but I lifted a single hand and fell forward, using his firm chest to catch myself.
What was I doing? I had now succumbed to groping a complete stranger.
“You seem lightheaded, come sit,” he followed up, taking my arm and leading me to a nearby stone column, the perfect height for sitting.
Yeah, lightheaded! I thought. I decided I’d run with that. “I’m so sorry, I don’t know what’s wrong with me—”
“Stryker,” the man said, as if spewing some sort of cryptic code at me.
“Pardon me?” I asked.
“My name… it’s Stryker. William Stryker, but all my friends call me Stryker.”
I’m not sure what possessed me to say the next thing that came out of my mouth. I blame Paige. Somehow, in a short amount of time she had managed to corrupt me. “Well, since we’re strangers what should I call you?” In my mind I kept thinking Mr. Sexy Pants seemed appropriate.
“What?” he asked, a puzzled look on his face.
I couldn’t even deliver the line correctly. “I just meant—since I don’t know you, we’re not friends, and therefore I can’t call you Stryker, what should I call you instead?”
Yup, I had actually managed to make it worse.
“Well, how about you call me Stryker, too?”
“Sounds good,” I replied, giving up on being clever.
“What’s your name?” he asked, handing me my phone.
“Clementine,” I answered, smiling. He didn’t react the way people normally did to my name. I usually got an, ‘Oh, isn’t that unique.’ The best, of course, were the ones who joked, ‘Didn’t your mom love you?’ Instead he just nodded.
“Well, I hope to see you around, Clementine,” he added, turning and walking toward the entrance to the school.
“Thanks,” I called out after him, like a complete dork. What had gotten into me? It was like I had never seen a hot guy before. Apparently all of the guys in New York were hotties, but that was beside the point. I wasn’t interested in men, even if they did make me lose temporary control of my senses. I was there to get my degree and that’s it—nothing else. Certainly nothing that would involve sexy men.
Chapter Five
I did it! I made it through my first day of classes and the earth did not spin off its axis, no natural disasters of any kind seemed to be occurring. Perhaps I was going to make it through this next year without falling apart, after all. The walk back to the apartment had been one of the most amazing walks of my life, although nothing special happened exactly. The wind was blowing through my hair, the car horns still blared, but I didn’t seem to notice them anymore. The hair on my arms was standing up, and I could feel my heart fluttering. I think it was happiness, or maybe contentment. It had been so long since I felt either.
In my very first class, the moment the professor had us take out our pads and pencil for still-life studies, I melted into a giddy mess. I could hear most of the students groaning as they dug through their bags, clearly not excited by the random objects set up around the room for us to draw. For me, it was different. I was coming from a place none of them could understand. This was something I had always wanted, and at last, I was not going to let my tragedy define me. I was doing this for me.
Shoving the key into the security door, I turned the lock, making my way inside. I was probably the only student excited by the fact we had homework on the first day of class. I couldn’t imagine how any other artist could look at what we did as work. When I sketched or painted, it felt like breathing. Lugg
ing my oversized bag up the stairs, I gladly dropped it in the hall as I unlocked the apartment. My New York apartment: the mere thought of it made me want to squeal in delight.
As I pushed open the door, using my hip, I could hear muffled sounds coming from the living room. Bending over, I picked up my belongings and without raising my head, stepped inside. I allowed the door to close behind me. Paige and I had not discussed our schedules yet, but I was getting the distinct impression she didn’t really have a set schedule. Plopping the keys down on the kitchen counter, I made my way into the living room and prepared to set my bag onto the couch.
Much to my surprise, as I came into the room, I realized the couch was, in fact, occupied. A man’s sculpted, bare ass was staring up at me.
“Oh my God!” I blurted out, unable to move.
Propping himself up with one arm, he shifted his weight to reveal Paige beneath him. She sat up, not bothering to cover her small breasts from my sight. “Umm, hello. Yeah sorry about this, I didn’t think you’d be back for a while.”
For the life of me, I couldn’t think of a single thing to say; instead, I used all of my energy to close my jaw, which I realized had been hanging open for some time. Raising my hand to cover my eyes, I turned toward the door from which I had just entered, grabbed my keys, and made my quick exit, bag still over my shoulder.
There was no way I just saw that… was there? I couldn’t get the image of Christian’s naked body out of my mind. At least he didn’t stand up. I was certain that would be something I could never shake. Bursting from the front door of the building I began to pace back and forth in front of the apartment. I had lived with this girl for one day and had already managed to see her and her boyfriend completely naked. They did not, however, seem to find this as distressing.
I suddenly realized I had another predicament—did they stop after I left, or had they simply continued their activities? There was no way I could return to the scene of the crime, so I would need to find somewhere to sketch for a few hours before returning. They would certainly have to be done by then. The coffee shop Paige had taken me to would have to serve as a temporary studio, and with a huff I began the walk in that direction, contemplating the talk I needed to have with Paige later that evening.
