by Jane Charles
“It’s fine. Really.”
She looks me up and down. “Well, you aren’t limping as much.”
“All I needed to do was stretch it.” Though ice about now would be great, but I’m afraid to tell her that.
“Why don’t we head back to the apartment, we can dump our stuff and then see what we want to do.”
“Sounds like a plan.” Besides, I don’t really want to be hauling my backpack all over New York, and I’d like to hang my clothes up for tonight. I can’t go to the theatre in jeans and a t-shirt and if my dress clothes stay in this pack much longer, they’re going to look worse than what I’m wearing.
We make our way back to the entrance, stopping only long enough to get an ice cream and then hail a taxi. Ellen gives an address but I don’t know the city well enough to know where we’re going.
It pulls up before an older building, several stories tall, and this time, I pay for his services, and we get out. The doorman greets Ellen the minute she steps into the marble foyer, and we get into the elevator, taking it to the sixth floor. I follow her out and to the end of the hall, where she unlocks and opens the door. “Paige is on tour and I cleaned out the fridge before I left so there’s no food in the place.” To my left is a living room with a fireplace, and wooden floors that have to date back to the time the building was built. From the windows you can see the river. The room is huge and most people would use the other half as a dining room. Not this Paige. There’s a wall of mirrors and a barre that runs the length of them.
“She’s a ballerina,” Ellen explains and goes out another door, and we are back in the hall off of the foyers.
“You can use my room and I’ll take hers.” She gestures to the one to the left. “The bathroom is right there, and the kitchen is around the corner.”
I don’t know much about New York apartments, but we are in Manhattan, this is a pre-war building, and the apartment is huge. I could save every dime of what I make at Baxter and still not save up enough for a down payment before retirement. “Does she own the place?”
“Actually, it’s her parents, but they moved to Florida. Paige can live here as long as she can pay the bills, fees, taxes and support herself.”
“There’s another small bedroom off of the kitchen, with a tiny bath, where her parents’ maid lived. Paige lets me use it for my office and the dining room is hers.” Ellen laughs.
I give a low whistle. Paige has to come from money. Or, maybe the real estate wasn’t that high back in the day her parents bought the place, but it has to be worth well over a million today. I suspect Ellen is kind of rich too, which is why they’re probably friends. I don’t know she’s wealthy for a fact, but the Audi she drives couldn’t cost less than forty grand and she hasn’t really worked since she graduated last summer.
My stomach knots. She is so out of my league. What the hell am I doing here and with her?
Ellen
He’s getting weird on me. I should have expected it. How much more weirded out would he be if he knew that I have more money in the bank that Paige? She may have property worth 1.5 million, but only makes enough money to barely scrape by. Instead of rent, I pay all the bills. It’s a win-win situation for both of us and absolutely nothing is in my name.
Paige’s probably the only true friend I have and the only person who knows the truth. I had to tell her. It was for her safety as much as mine. It didn’t feel right to move in with someone without telling them that at one time someone had taken a hit out on you.
I thought that was behind me. I thought I was safe.
My hands begin to shake and I push away my fear. I will not give into it. I will not give them that power.
I grab an icepack out of the freezer and take it to Gabe’s room. He’s unpacking his clothing for tonight and hanging it up. “We’ll put those in the dryer with a damp towel. That should get most of the wrinkles out.” I hold out my hands. “Let me toss them in.”
“Thanks.”
“I’ve got an ice pack. Do you want to kick back for a bit?”
“Yes!” He groans. “Any Ibuprofen?”
“I’m sure there is in one of the bathrooms. Go into the living room and I’ll see what I can find.”
Gabe goes past me and I duck into the bathroom, open the medicine cabinet and gasp. Shit. I’d forgotten I had prescriptions here. Some of my anxiety meds. What if he went looking for toothpaste or something? It’s one thing to have generic over the counter stuff, but I don’t want him to see these. I don’t want him worrying that I’ll wig out on him or something. People who don’t have anxiety rarely understand it. Hell, he won’t even take a prescribed narcotic when he’s in pain. I can’t imagine how he’d react if he knew I had once been prone to panic attacks. People may say they understand, but they never really do. He’s probably never been around anyone remotely unstable in his life and I’m not about to let him think that maybe I am.
I grab the bottles and hide them in the hamper under some clean towels and then do a close inspection of the bathroom and the bedroom, just so no other surprises come up.
Paige has got to have some painkillers in her bathroom so I head in there and stop in the middle of the room. This bed is larger. Should I have given it to Gabe? I just figured Paige would be more comfortable with me sleeping here than a guy she never met.
But, the bed is bigger and he has long legs, one that is injured. There’s plenty of room for both of us.
“Stop it,” I hiss to myself. “You will not invite Gabe Kent into your bed, or Paige’s, no matter how much you want him there. You’ve only known him two days. What are you thinking?”
Gabe – 8
I’ve never been to a Broadway show, ever. Until I met Ellen, and she invited me, I really had no desire to attend either. But I like it. At least, I like the theatre. We’re in the balcony and I lean over and watch all the people come in, taking their seats in the rows that gradually slopes to the stage. There are box seating areas to either side of us and those are filled too. But out of all the seats in the theatre, I think we have the best ones. “How did you snag front row balcony seats on such short notice?” What I really like is that there are no seats in front of us and I can stretch out my legs.
“I know people,” she grins at me.
I’m not buying it for a minute. She knows it and rolls her eyes. “Okay, I changed the tickets. It was this or the front row. I wanted you to have leg room, but I can’t stand sitting up front. I like to be back so I can see the entire stage.”
That was very sweet of her. I lean over. “Thank you.” Placing my hand against her cheek, I lean further in and gently kiss her. I’ve been wanting to do that all day but I was too afraid to kiss her at the apartment. After last night, we might not have made it to the theatre.
“You’re welcome,” she smiles back at me.
The lights dim and the orchestra begins. I slip my hand in hers and relax. This is a new experience, one I intend to enjoy, even if it is only because of the woman sitting next to me.
Ellen is humming as we leave the theatre. “I think we need a bottle of champagne.”
“You aren’t going to sing about the night they invented it, are you?” I joke.
“The night they invented champagne,” she sings out as she skips to the curb so we can get a taxi.
I tug on her hand, pulling her back to me. “I’d rather Thank Heaven for Little Girls. They grow up in the most delightful ways.” I wink at her.
“Without them, what would little boys do?” She laughs and twirls away. “You liked it, didn’t you?”
She’s so happy that even if I hated it, I wouldn’t tell her. “Of course. I’ve a mind to stay in New York a little longer and take in a few shows.”
Ellen stops, her eyes wide. “Really?”
I meant it as a joke, but she’s so excited. “I don’t have another change of clothing.”
“We’ll go shopping. I know some great bargain places.” Ellen rushes to me. “Can we? Stay a few more d
ays?”
She’s leaning into me and I want nothing more than to grant her this. “Why not? I’m on spring break and don’t have to be anywhere until Monday.”
Ellen gives a squeal before going up on her toes, wrapping her arms around my neck and kisses me.
I fish my phone out of my pocket.
“What are you doing?”
“Calling Mateo and telling him that I won’t be back for a few days.”
Ellen
I can’t believe Gabe wants to hang out in New York for a few days. It’s the perfect place to disappear. I did it for six years. But the best part, I’ll have Gabe all to myself. “We should celebrate. Where should we go?”
“Celebrate?” He laughs. “What are we celebrating?”
I turn, looking into his blue eyes. “Meeting each other.”
The smile slips from his face, and the blue in his eyes darkens. “That’s an excellent reason.” He grabs me by the waist, pulls me close and lowers his mouth to mine. I nearly melt on the spot. Man, he can sure kiss. I get hot each time he touches me. I’m liable to go up in flames if we ever have sex.
And, we’ll be having sex. Of that I don’t doubt. I want him and I’m fairly certain he wants me, and there’s a very comfortable apartment only a cab ride away.
I break the kiss and thread my fingers in his. “I think there’s a bottle of champagne at the apartment.”
“Then why are standing here?” His voice is low and gruff, sending shivers down my spine. Heat pools in my girly parts that have been ignored for far too long.
We grab a cab and head back to the apartment. Gabe has pulled me close and has his arm around my shoulder. This is the night and butterflies have suddenly decided to take up residence in my stomach. What if he’s disappointed? What if I’ve forgotten what to do? It’s been so fucking long.
I’m going to need that champagne just to calm my nerves. It’s not that I don’t want to have sex with Gabe because I can’t think of another thing I’d rather do right now, but what if he hates my body. I’m thin, but at least I’m in shape, so I have that going for me. But my boobs, what there are of them, are an entirely different matter. Practically non-existent. If it wasn’t for padded and uplifting bras, he’d think I was a flat as a pancake. I practically am.
I’ll just keep the bra on. Whenever couples are in bed on television, the lady always has a bra on. A very pretty one, but she’s wearing it nonetheless, and I have a very pretty lace one on right now. I know it’s not normal to wear a bra during sex, but I’m using it, just to save myself the humiliation of his disappointment. And, if Gabe suggests a boob job, like my last boyfriend did almost constantly, then I’ll know he’s not for me.
Oh, I do hope there’s still a bottle of champagne in the wine fridge. There’s one in the back corner, filled with reds and whites, their separate sections set at the perfect temperatures. My contribution to the apartment. When your grandparents own a vineyard in Napa, you tend to appreciate good wine.
He follows me inside. I kick off my shoes and to straight to the kitchen. Gabe hasn’t said a word since we got into the taxi. Then again, I didn’t either because all I could think about was what would happen tonight. Was he thinking about the same thing? I’m pretty sure he isn’t filled with nerves and fear of disappointment. He’s hot, was a college football player, and probably banged more cheerleaders and groupies than I could count.
My stomach flips as I grab the bottle. This is a mistake. He’s going to see me naked, be disappointment and then it’ll be over. I’ll have to see him at the house for the short time I’m living there.
Hell, I don’t even know him. Not really. I went to his apartment because of my investigation and then practically threw myself at him.
What the hell am I doing? Should I even be getting involved with a guy who might be harming kids in some way at Baxter? Not that I know exactly what that is, but I can’t ignore what that girl said.
But, this is the first time in so fucking long that I’ve felt a connection to someone of the opposite sex. Something inside me recognized something in him. I know it makes no fucking sense, but in my gut, I know this is right. Nobody has felt this right before. It’s as if my soul recognized his in an instant.
Yes, it’s crazy but I have no other way to explain it.
But, what if it’s all ruined once we are intimate? There’ll be nothing to learn about the other. Worse, what if that’s all he’s after? I can’t really blame him for thinking I’m an easy lay. Had we not been interrupted, I would have probably fucked him within a few hours of first meeting him.
This is insane, but I want him. It’s as simple as that.
But, what if he is disappointed, and it’s back to my boobs again.
I can’t do this. No matter how much I want it to. I don’t want whatever this is to end right now, or so fast.
“Hey,” he says, coming into the kitchen. “You okay? You’re breathing like you’re about to hyperventilate.”
“No,” my voice squeaks and I clear my throat. “I’m fine.” I pull the bottle from the fridge and hold it up. “And, we have champagne.”
He just laughs and grabs two crystal flutes off the glass shelves and sets them on the marble counter. “Let me.” He takes the bottle from my hands, removes the foil, twists the wire off and then pops the cork without losing a drop. Wow, has he done this a lot? Probably, when his team won championship games, which I’m assuming they did. Don’t football players usually pop a lot of champagne before pouring it on everyone’s head? Such a waste! Unless it’s cheap champagne, then it isn’t worth drinking.
Gabe fills each glass and hands one to me. “To the door.”
I blink at him. “Door?”
“If it wasn’t such a pain in the ass to open, we might not have met.”
We click glasses and drink. Now what? Do we just stand in the middle of the kitchen drinking?
“Come on.” He grabs the bottle and heads back down the hall. I simply follow, glad he’s taking the lead. But, instead of going to a bedroom, like I assumed, he goes to the living room and sits on the couch. I try not to blow out a sigh of relief.
I join him and he pulls me against him. We’re facing the old fireplace, unlit, but it reminds me of last night and where that led. Already my blood is heating in anticipation.
Crap. I was going to tell him no, but I’m pretty sure that word won’t be uttered tonight.
We sip in silence as he strokes my upper arm.
“I like you Ellen,” he says after a minute.
“I kind of like you too.”
“That’s why we aren’t going to have sex.”
I pull back and look at him. “What?” He doesn’t like me that way. Damn. He wants a friendship. It’s probably because of my small boobs. Even the best bras created can’t fake an A cup.
“I would like to sleep with you though.”
Isn’t that the same thing?
Gabe puts his glass on the table and turns toward me. “Things have happened really fast.”
That’s the understatement of the year.
“I’m not going to deny that I want you. Badly. I’m hard right now.”
My face grows warm and I forbid my eyes from glancing in that direction to see if he’s telling the truth.
“But, I just met you yesterday. I don’t fuck girls I barely know.”
“Yet, you want to sleep with me.”
“Yeah, in clothing, but it’s still intimate. Let’s spend these days getting to know one another better and see what happens.” He leans in, brushing his lips across mine. “I don’t want to ruin a good thing by rushing it.”
At that moment my heart melts and the rest of me turns to mush. This guy’s a keeper but will he want me if he ever learns the truth?
Gabe – 9
I stretch and glance around the room. Ellen isn’t in bed, but classical music can be heard coming from the living room. Sunlight is streaming in the windows and I’m reluctant to leave this bed. I slep
t better last night than I have in a really long time. It did take time to fall asleep though. My cock certainly wasn’t interested in slumber, not with Ellen cuddled around me, her head on my chest, but exhaustion finally won out. She was asleep a lot earlier than me, and she apparently was awake earlier too.
Even though I wanted nothing better than to bury myself in her last night, I couldn’t go there. Her body began to tense in the taxi and she got all kinds of nervous once we got back to the apartment. I’m not sure if it was fear or if she was having regrets about asking me to stay. She was as skittish as a new colt in the kitchen, and I really did think she was about to hyperventilate. As much as my cock hates the idea, it’s best to wait. Hell, we might not fuck for weeks, and that’s okay.
Though I really hope it isn’t weeks. That’d be an entirely different torturous pain and my knee is enough as it is.
Pushing the covers aside, I get out of bed and test my knee before putting all of my weight on it. Not nearly as bad as yesterday. I’ll just pop some Ibuprofen and ice it before we head out to do whatever it is we are going to do. I stop in the kitchen before going to the living room, and make a cup of coffee. The Keurig is full of water and I pick a dark roast.
Steaming coffee in hand, I make my way to the living room, but she’s not there. Reflection off of the windows has me turning and I’m instantly mesmerized. Ellen is in tights and a leotard, with a shear, pink, short skirt. Her hair is pulled back in a tiny bun and she’s wearing ballet slippers. Every muscle in her body is outlined as she moves, twirls, jumps and bends. My mouth goes dry and my dick comes instantly to attention.
Of course she’s a dancer. That explains her posture and graceful movements. Not once has she slouched and even when she skipped last night, there was an elegance to it.
She hasn’t seen me yet and I don’t want her to or she might stop. I was right in my first assessment that she has strong thighs, but the rest of her is as well. A person can’t dance like that without having every muscle in shape.
