City Love

by Susane Colasanti

  Austin is waiting for me in the copy room. He’s reading notices on the bulletin board. He turns when he hears me come in.

  “You showed up,” he says.

  “I want my prize.” Darcy told me about the bet she lost to Jude and how she has to treat for dinner. That’s how I got the idea for this bet. When Austin was driving me home from New Jersey last night, I bet him that I would make out with him in the copy room. We made plans to stay late tonight.

  “Your floor clear?” he asks.

  “Yeah. What about upstairs?”

  “A few guys are still here. They probably won’t come down, though.”

  “Probably?”

  “You’re not backing out, are you?”

  I saunter over to the copy machine, dropping my folder on top of it with a slap. I get right up in front of Austin.

  “Bring it,” I dare.

  He looks at me for a second. Then in one swift move, he puts his arms around me and starts kissing me hard.

  This strange thing happens with time when I’m making out with Austin. What feels like five minutes could actually be an hour. Or three hours. We can never be sure exactly how much time has passed. But eventually we hear someone talking on the phone out at the cubicles.

  “I thought you said everyone left,” Austin whispers.

  “They did,” I whisper back.

  We listen. Whoever it is doesn’t sound like they’re leaving anytime soon.

  “Now what?” Austin whispers.

  “We could pretend we were doing copying.”

  “This late? After everyone else is gone? I’m not even supposed to be down here.”

  The copy room opens directly to the main office floor. The second we leave this room, we’ll be exposed to whoever’s out there. The only reason he can’t see us right now is that Austin had me pressed up against the farthest copier. Parker made it very clear during orientation that any kind of romantic entanglement between interns would lead to immediate suspension. We can’t risk being exposed.

  “We could sleep here,” Austin whispers. “They taught us how to make bubble-wrap pillows in Boy Scouts.”

  A nervous giggle threatens to escape. I clamp my hand over my mouth to stop it.

  Fortunately whoever was on the phone wraps it up. We hear the distant ding of the elevator as he leaves.

  “Let’s get out of here,” I say, darting to the doorway.

  “You don’t want to make out some more?”

  “This bet has already been won. By me. Prize time.”

  “You never told me you were so good at winning bets.”

  “There’s only so much a person can disclose in one week.”

  “One week and one day.”

  Sometimes Austin will say the perfect thing or look at me a certain way and I swear I’ve known him forever. But it’s only been one week and one day. The best one week and one day of my life. I don’t know how it’s possible to feel like you’ve known someone forever when it’s only been one week and one day. I just know that it is.

  “So what’s my prize?” I ask when we’re outside.

  “Dessert at Bubby’s.”

  “I love Bubby’s!”

  “Of course you do.”

  “How did you know?”

  “It’s a Sadie place. They have the best pie. How could you not love it?”

  “My prize rules. I haven’t been there in forever.”

  “Me, neither. I actually just remembered it was around here when you asked what your prize was.”

  “Were you planning a different prize?”

  Austin lifts my hand to his mouth and kisses the back of it. “You ask a lot of questions.”

  “I like answers.”

  “Answers aren’t always helpful. Sometimes the not knowing is better than the knowing.”

  “Like when?”

  “Like when someone is trying to protect you from the truth. Would you rather hear the truth and be hurt or not know and be happy?”

  “That depends. Was your original prize better than dessert at Bubby’s?”

  Austin laughs. He holds my hand as we cross the street. So much is happening around us on our walk to Bubby’s. So much to look up at. Not anything big or even anything most people would notice. I’m all about the little things. Every nuance seems to be vibrating with positive energy tonight. The tranquil notes of wind chimes floating down to us from inside an open apartment window. A woman in a courtyard setting a table for dinner with sunflowers and brightly striped napkins. Window boxes filled with colorful flowers. The aroma of fresh-baked bread wafting from a bakery. It’s a gorgeous summer night, perfect in its simplicity.

  We order pie (cherry for me, blueberry for Austin, but we’ll share) and coffee at Bubby’s.

  “Jon Stewart comes here,” I say.

  “Have you ever seen him?”

  “Not inside. But one time I was sitting at that window table and I saw him walking by with his son.”

  “My friend who lives here in Tribeca says he sees Jon all the time. He doesn’t even think about it when he passes Jon anymore.”

  “New Yorkers are so jaded. Celeb sightings don’t even faze us.” It’s probably best not to disclose my Claire Danes stalker antics.

  “Especially down here. At least three of my friends live in the same buildings as whoever’s hot right now. I’m sure Jon’s not the only famous regular at Bubby’s.”

  “Do you come here a lot?”

  “No, but I used to. Now I mainly hang out around campus or in Jersey City. I pretty much only come into the city for internship or class.”

  “But there’s so much to do here!”

  “Yeah, I know. It’s a convenience thing. Once I’m home, I’m usually in for the night. What can I tell you? I’m lame.”

  “Why do you live in Jersey City?”

  “It’s complicated.” Austin takes a bite of pie. “Man, that’s good.”

  “Break it down for me.”

  “They only use fresh blueberries. You can taste the—”

  “Not the pie. The complicated.”

  “Oh. Well for one, rents are way cheaper in Jersey. The rents for one-bedrooms around here are so outrageous they should be illegal. And the apartments here are smaller. I don’t see the point in paying more for less.”

  “Location.”

  “But I can be on campus in fifteen minutes door-to-door. I can either drive in or take the PATH or the ferry or even the bus. The city is completely accessible anytime I want.”

  “But if you lived here, you wouldn’t have to come in. You’d already be here.”

  “Paying twice the rent for half the space.”

  “I heard the rents in Jersey City and Hoboken are almost as bad as the rents here.”

  “They’re getting there. Especially for new construction on the waterfront. But for the most part it’s considerably more affordable.”

  “I totally get what you’re saying.” I stir more sugar into my coffee. “But don’t you love the energy of Manhattan? Wouldn’t you rather live here?”

  “Sure, as soon as I become the first urban planner to achieve millionaire status. Then I’ll get right on that brownstone on Greenwich Street.”

  “You’ll have to renovate it first.”

  “No doubt. Like a boss.”

  “Get ready for me to take over one of your guest rooms.”

  “Please do.”

  “Will you have a rooftop garden? I’m going to need a rooftop garden.”

  “You’re into gardening?”

  “Not yet, but I will be when you have a rooftop garden. We can grow herbs—ooh! We’ll grow basil and I’ll make fresh pesto all summer. Pesto is only good when basil is abundant. Of course I’ll want sunflowers, daisies, lilies of the valley . . . all the good summer flowers. Daffodils in the spring. You should do window boxes for even more flowers.”

  “Should I get an interior designer, or do you have the whole house planned?”

  “I’m down with designi
ng everything.”

  “Then we’re all set.”

  I eat my pie. Should I drop this discussion before I say too much? Of course I should. Is that going to stop me? Apparently not.

  “You don’t have to have millions of dollars to live here,” I say. “You just need enough passion and determination to find what you’re looking for.”

  Austin puts his fork down. He studies me. “You really are an eternal optimist. I’ve never met anyone like you before.”

  “Do you think I’m naive?”

  “Not so much naive as hopeful.” Austin shakes his head in amazement. “I’m so lucky I found you.”

  “I’m the lucky one,” I say.

  “We’re both lucky. And I’ve already found what I was looking for. I found you.”

  I absolutely believe that Austin was looking for me just like I was looking for him. When I imagined finding my soul mate, I knew he would love me for who I am. Austin totally does.

  “Can I ask you something?” I say.

  “You can ask me anything.”

  “Would you like to spend the whole weekend together?”

  “Um . . . yes?”

  “But for real. This weekend. At my place.”

  Austin hesitates. “You’re serious.”

  “What if you came over after internship tomorrow and forgot to go home until Sunday night?”

  “That would be awesome. But I don’t think I can swing it.”

  “Why not?”

  Austin leans his elbows on the table, rubbing his face like he’s suddenly exhausted. Crap. I shouldn’t have said anything. Why did I have to rush it?

  “I’d have to figure some things out, is all. Move some things around.”

  “You already have plans?”

  “Not exactly.”

  “Oh.” I stare at my plate. Nothing but crumbs remain.

  “But . . . I think I can make it happen.”

  “Really?”

  “Really.”

  I can’t wait to tell Rosanna and Darcy that Austin’s spending the weekend at our place. Only . . . we haven’t talked about visitors yet. What if they don’t want him there? I’m about to tell Austin that I have to check with my roommates, but then I decide to wait and see what they say. Even though Rosanna, Darcy, and I just met, I have a feeling they’ll be in my corner when it comes to true love.

  TWENTY-NINE

  DARCY

  SADIE AND I ARE ITCHING to start the movie when Rosanna bursts in from her date with D. If Rosanna were more like me, I would have suspected we might not see her until the walk of shame brought her home at dawn.

  “Are you okay?” Sadie asks Rosanna from the armchair she’s called dibs on for movie night. Which is fine by me. This couch and I have developed a close relationship.

  “Yeah, I’m good.” Rosanna is all flushed. Any girl on the planet could recognize her post-hookup glow.

  “So was it good for you?” I prod.

  “Was what—” Rosanna realizes I’m messing with her. “Just give me a second to change.”

  “Take your time.” I stretch out on the couch and give Sadie a smirk. After Rosanna’s door closes, I say, “That girl is having the time of her life.”

  “She can take a number,” Sadie says. “I’m having the best time ever. Of anyone’s life.”

  “What’d you guys do tonight?” I ask.

  “We went to this pie place I love. Oh, so . . . Austin wants to stay here this weekend. Would that be okay with you?”

  “Of course. Why are you even asking?”

  “We haven’t talked about the visitors thing yet.”

  “Visitors isn’t a thing. Anyone can have over whomever they want. Isn’t that part of the roommate code?”

  “Totally. I mean, that’s how I feel. Do you think Rosanna will be okay with it?”

  “She should be. Her fancy man can’t avoid this place forever. I’m predicting some reckless sleepovers in her near future.”

  “I wouldn’t exactly describe Rosanna as reckless.”

  “Not yet. But you will.” Don’t get me wrong. I’m loving my freedom. But it’s weird that Sadie and Rosanna are on the boyfriend track while I can’t even figure out my feelings for Jude. The last thing I expected in this scenario was to be the one questioning how I feel about a boy while my two roommates fall in lust harder than ever.

  Rosanna comes out in a matching heather-gray tee-and-shorts set that’s straight out of high school gym class. The tee says PROPERTY OF LINCOLN HIGH PHYS ED. Way to be original, Lincoln High. She zooms to the kitchen in such a fit of zest I expect her to slam out a hundred jumping jacks. “Could anyone else use a snack?” she asks, yanking open the freezer door. “I’m having a Popsicle.”

  “Cherry for me, thanks,” Sadie says.

  “Grape, please!” I yell for no reason.

  Rosanna brings us our Popsicles, plus a lime one for her. She plops down on the pouf I bought yesterday. It’s apple green and, in my humble opinion, really ties the room together.

  “Austin’s bunking with us this weekend,” I inform Rosanna. “It’s like sleepaway camp for sexy men. How cute is that?”

  Rosanna’s eyes practically pop out of her head. “Oh my god, really?” She gapes at Sadie. “He’s spending the night already?”

  “No, we’re not . . . he’ll be sleeping with me, but we’re not sleeping together.”

  “And you’re okay with that?”

  “Yeah. I know we just met, but it feels like I’ve known him forever. He’s not some random guy. Don’t worry. You can trust him.”

  “You trust him, so we trust him.” I look at Rosanna for backup.

  “I’m not worried. I’m just . . .”

  “Freaking out that a man is staying with us?” I suggest.

  Rosanna whips a pillow at me.

  “Hey!” I yank my Popsicle out of the way in the nick of time.

  “I’m not freaking out,” Rosanna insists. “I’ll even clean the bathroom again before he gets here.”

  “You don’t have to do that,” Sadie says.

  “I kind of do. Did the people who lived here before us have a problem with cleaning? I scrubbed those tiles for an hour and they’re still disgusting.”

  “Austin won’t be judging us on cleanliness,” I say. “He’ll be too busy judging Sadie on her lady attributes.”

  “Can we watch the movie now?” Sadie says.

  “Someone hit the lights,” I order. Once I’m sprawled out on the couch, nothing short of a forklift can pry me up.

  Our movie night selection is Unfaithful. It’s this film about a housewife who has an affair with a book dealer in Soho. Films that are beautiful and evocative in an understated way always resonate with me. Maybe I appreciate the balance since my lifestyle is more of the overblown Hollywood blockbuster type.

  Unfaithful is the kind of movie screenwriters watch and probably kick themselves that they didn’t come up with the idea first. Connie Sumner, the main character, meets Paul Martel outside his building when they literally crash into each other during a windstorm. She scrapes her knee and it’s all bloody. He invites her to his place to take care of it. While she’s up there, she’s admiring his massive book collection. He tells her to pull a certain book out from the shelf, turn to a page number he’s memorized, and read the line he tells her. She reads, “‘Be happy for this moment. This moment is your life.’”

  I love that quote so much. It rings true with my wild and free summer. I’ve been giving advice (albeit unsolicited) to the girls from The Power of Now. Just tips on the importance of being in the Now and connecting with your immediate physical environment and creating meaningful interactions with others. Being in the Now helps you avoid obsessing over regrets from the past and feeling anxious about the future. Having recently wasted a bunch of time on a certain dumbass who shall remain nameless, I do not intend to waste one more second.

  “Being present to fully enjoy every moment,” I comment on the quote. “Where have I heard
that before?”

  Sadie pauses the movie. “You do realize this is the third time I’ve paused the movie because you keep talking.”

  “I can’t help it if there’s more to say.”

  “Could we say it after the movie?”

  “Then I might forget.”

  “Or we might be up until three trying to watch this. Some of us need to go to bed.”

  “Oh, please. As if you two aren’t jacked up on enough boy adventure adrenaline to stay awake for a week straight.”

  “She has a point,” Rosanna says.

  “Agreed,” Sadie relents. “Either we’ll be up all night trying to watch this in between commentaries, or you’ll keep us up with your snoring anyway.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  Rosanna and Sadie exchange a glance.

  “You snore, Darcy,” Rosanna blurts. “We’ve been wondering how to tell you.”

  “I do not snore.”

  “You snore.”

  “No, I don’t. You snore.”

  “I think you have us confused. There was a lot of noise last night.”

  “You mean from when you were snoring?”

  “Simmer down, kids,” Sadie says. “Mommy wants to watch her movie.”

  We watch the rest of the movie. As a sign of courtesy, I keep my commentary to a bare minimum. My feeling is that movies are a communal experience that should be shared verbally in real time. But hey, I understand that everyone might not feel the same. I wouldn’t talk over a movie in a movie theater or anything. I’m not a barbarian. But watching a movie in the privacy of your own home means you can comment on that hot sex scene as loud as you want. Oh, and PS? I don’t snore. Just FYI.

  The movie ends on a disturbing note. We all take a minute to gauge our reactions as the credits roll.

  “Why are affairs so common?” Sadie wonders. “Do that many people marry the wrong people?”

  “People settle for less than they want because they think they’ll never find anyone better,” Rosanna says.

  “Or they get married too young,” I say. “Nobody knows themselves before thirty. Your twenties are for exploring and having adventures and discovering who you are. How are you supposed to find yourself when you’re permanently attached to someone else?”