This time, I'm the one ducking my head. She liked my beefcake photo. That should be all I'm thinking about, but she had to bring up Sasha. I'm lost. I don't know how to handle shit like this. How do I talk about Sasha in front of Hailey? I never thought we'd be having this conversation, rehashing the crush I developed on Sasha for no other reason than that she reminded me of her, the one who got away. And now, she's standing here, expecting an answer to something I haven't quite figured out for myself yet.
"So you felt sorry for me. Is that what you're saying?" I glare at her, and her smile falters. "I don't need your pity, Hailey. If you wanted to see me, you could've reached out a whole lot sooner. You didn't have to enter some damn contest to get my attention."
"Like I said, I was scared." She lowers her eyes, and I feel like a jerk.
I've wanted to see her for so long, and what do I do? I let my temper get the best of me. My heart is in my throat just from hearing her voice again.
I struggle out of my jacket and yank off my tie. "Well, I'm not going back in there. That's for damn sure."
"Thank God," she chuckles, rubbing her arms as the wind kicks up, tossing her blond curls in front of her face. "I so don't fit in with that crowd. They're all talking about stock portfolios and under-eye laser treatments, and they're all in their twenties! Are they crazy? I can't even make rent!" She laughs again to cover her insecurities, making my heart constrict. "I just couldn't take it anymore, Bruce. I needed to get some fresh air before my brain exploded."
She's still shy, but not as shy as she was in high school. I thought it'd be weird, but we're falling back into a familiar rhythm. I'm not much of a talker, but sharing my thoughts with her always came easily. I'm glad it still does.
"So…you're living in the city now?" I let my eyes linger on her face, firing off the most dangerous of questions, the one I'm not sure I want the answer to.
"Kinda." She hedges for a moment, biting her bottom lip, and all I can think about is kissing her.
"Kinda?" I give her my first real smile of the night. "What do you mean by kinda?"
"Well, I just graduated from college in May, so I felt it was time to spread my wings a little, take a risk. I leased an apartment in the East Village for a month to see if I can make a go of it, maybe catch lightning in a bottle." She rises up on her toes in that adorable way of hers, and I swallow hard. She always does that whenever she wants me to take her seriously, trying to appear taller than her five feet two inches normally allows.
"You're giving yourself a month to make it in New York City? Hailey, you've always been an amazing writer, but I think it's gonna take a heck of a lot longer than that." I feel the corner of my mouth turn up as she stubbornly shakes her head, her curls falling across her bare shoulders.
"Well, a month's all I have. Living in New York is too damn expensive." She's as straightforward as ever, and that makes me want to smile even more. "Call it the ultimate research assignment."
"Wow." I whistle with fake enthusiasm, knowing it'll drive her nuts. "Like the single-girl-in-the-city thing hasn't been done before."
"Stop it!" she exclaims, smacking my arm. "How do you even know I'm single?"
I cringe inwardly, and she drops her eyes, knowing she shouldn't have said that. I pause a moment before I respond. "Because you wouldn't be here if you weren't."
She blushes, confirming what I had hoped to be true.
"Just watch yourself, Hailey." I pat her on the head, and her reticence quickly fades as she scowls up at me. "New York can turn around and bite you in the ass. I should know."
"C'mon, Jilly." She shakes my hand off her head, and I wince when she refers to me by nickname again—just like everyone else does. "You've achieved nothing but success since you arrived in New York, and I can't begin to tell you how proud I am of you." This time, she lets her hand rest on my arm.
"Four years, huh? It took you four years before you were able to reach out and tell me that?" My eyes penetrate her baby blues.
She sighs, removing her hand. Yep, I had to go and ruin it. It was the wrong thing to say, but it had to be said. There's a lot that has to be said between us. Maybe tonight's finally the night.
"Well, I'm here now. So are you taking me for something to eat or not?" She smooths her hair away from her face and looks up at me expectantly.
"I guess," I tease, glad that she still wants to spend some time with me even though I'm going to be kicking myself in the morning when she up and disappears again. "But you might want to tie your hair back," I advise as I take advantage of the opportunity to finger a few loose strands before placing a hand on her shoulder, pretending like I'm only doing it to guide her out of the dark alley.
"Why's that?" She's seems a little breathless. She seems a little breathless by my touch, but I could be wrong.
"Because where we're going, you're gonna get the wind in your hair." I grin down at her as we reach the limo. I open the door, and she smiles at me before climbing in.
Yep, it's going to be one of those nights. The kind I like best—the kind I get to spend with her.
Chapter Two
Hailey
"The Staten Island ferry? Really, Jilly? I haven't been in the city all that long, but even I know it's not something New Yorkers tend to brag about."
He gives me a big, goofy grin, showing me he's still the same kid at heart I remember. Most girls would be annoyed that this is his idea of a dream date, but I don't care where he takes me. I'm just happy to be with him.
He lowers his voice, muttering just loud enough for me to hear him, "I don't know why. The view's gorgeous from here."
I try to pull myself together as we board the ferry, but goose bumps are tingling up and down my arms because I'm elated…and terrified. Based on the way he's staring at me, I don't think he's referring to the world-famous skyline. He's always been able to convey so much with just a glance. Those soulful, brown eyes reveal what he's usually too hesitant to say out loud.
I knew the moment the major league scouts started sniffing around our high school, wanting to sign the big kid with the wicked arm, that he'd achieve everything he set out to accomplish and then some.
That's why I shouldn't be doing this.
I knew I was taking a chance by agreeing to go on this date. I should've backed out of it weeks ago, but I couldn't stifle the urge to see him again. The opportunity was too good to pass up. Besides, this is just a one-time thing, and as the night goes on, I intend to make him understand that that's all it is—a brief reunion between two friends, nothing more.
He's in a good place in his life now. He made it to the majors. He's living his dream because he focused solely on his career and nothing else—and look at how far it's gotten him.
But the image of him on that subway poster keeps nagging at me. Why did he look so sad? Is he still dealing with his feelings for Sasha Roberts and how she chose Brooks Davison over him? Or is something else bothering him—something I might be able to fix?
"Earth to Halpert. Come in, Hailey Halpert." He gently tugs on one of my curls and I break out of my momentary daydream.
He doesn't know that I really am here on research, and he's my main topic of interest—which is something he can never find out.
I hug my arms to my chest, feeling sick though the boat hasn't even left the dock yet. He immediately notices my discomfort; I don't have to verbalize it to him. He steps behind me and gallantly drapes his jacket over my shoulders, rubbing my arms to keep me warm from the wind that's whipping around the harbor. When his strong fingers accidentally brush my collarbone, I know he's thinking about a whole lot more than shielding me from the chilly night air.
"Thanks," I mumble in appreciation, slipping my arms into the sleeves, leaving him with no other choice than to withdraw his hands from my body.
Swimming in the enormity of his jacket, I feel like a little kid playing dress up. I forgot just how big he truly is. He's a gentle giant, the type of guy a girl can feel safe with, the kind tha
t'll hold her through the night and never let go.
We're at the front end of the ferry and there's hardly anyone on board. I'm glad that no one's really paying attention to us. It's a Saturday night, so most people are coming into the city, not leaving it.
Jilly playfully drags me out of the cabin and onto the deck, walking as far as he can to the bow of the ship before I grab his arm, coaxing him back.
"If you think you brought me out here to have some kind of Titanic moment, you can forget about it." I fight the wind that's tossing my hair over my eyes to let him know that I'm serious.
Back in high school, whenever I'd be PMS'ing, I'd curl up on the couch in my PJs and watch Titanic. It's always been my favorite comfort movie, and it was a running joke between us that, whenever I ditched school, that's what I was home watching. Jilly would call me the minute the final bell rang, giving me grief for having left him without a translation partner in Spanish class and that it was time to curb my unhealthy obsession over some actor who looked 'more like a punk-ass kid than a real man.' So I wouldn't put it past him to try something crazy like reenact that famous 'I'm flying!' moment between Jack and Rose.
"Turn around," Jilly commands, guiding me onto the platform, his voice all deep and husky in that tone that never fails to send a quiver through my belly.
"Jilly…" I groan, rolling my eyes, trying to play it off. "If you lift me up on that rail, I swear I'll scream my head off. Don't think I won't."
"Oh, I wasn't thinking about that scene." He chuckles, and I'm glad he can't see my face because it's red-hot.
I know exactly which scene he's referring to. The one he used to tease me about in our intro to art class back in high school—the one where Jack sketches Rose in the nude. He'd rib me, saying that he wished he could be as good an artist as Leonardo DiCaprio because it would significantly up his game with the ladies.
Now, I'm sure the list of women who would pose nude for him would be a mile long. He has more game than he realizes; he just doesn't give himself credit. I wish he'd have more confidence in himself, and it scares me to think how completely I might have broken him all those years ago. Is it my fault that he's alone and doesn't have a girlfriend? I hope not.
"So did you ever…?" My breath hitches when I feel his hands in my hair, knowing exactly what he's up to. "Draw anyone else besides me?"
"No. I don't think any woman would be impressed by my artistic skills. You remember how bad I was." He laughs, and I stand stock-still, too afraid to move as he gathers my hair away from my face.
I feel like I've stepped back in time when he slides my hair expertly through his fingers and starts to braid it. His fingers are nimble enough from gripping a baseball that he manages to quickly tame my unruly curls into submission. It's been so long since he braided my hair that I forgot how good it feels. I remember how I used to beg him to do it and how he loved to take care of me, ready to give me whatever I needed from him.
No man has ever treated me like that before or since, and I don't think anyone ever will.
I remove the hair tie I have stretched over my wrist and hand it back to him without saying a word. He takes it from me, twisting it a few times before flipping the finished braid over my shoulder. His fingers trace along the nape of my neck, and I close my eyes, savoring his touch before forcing myself to step away from him and turn around.
"Have you dated many girls since…?" I can't get myself to finish the question. It's a painful subject for both of us, but I need to know that he's doing all right.
"I don't date." He shrugs, readily admitting what I didn't want to hear.
"Bruce…" Again, his real name subconsciously falls from my lips.
"But I'm on a date tonight." He smiles, and it just about shatters what's left of my heart.
"A date—between friends," I insist, causing the sparkle in his eyes to dim somewhat.
"If that's what you want to call it." His mouth turns down, but his gaze remains steady.
"I only wanted to check in on you, see how you were doing, make sure you were okay," I ramble on.
"I'm fine. Never been better." His tone is listless, and he slumps over the rail as the ferry pulls into St. George Terminal.
I was so caught up in him and what he was causing me to feel that I didn't even notice we were on the other side of the Hudson, the lights of Manhattan twinkling in the distance.
"What now?" I ask, preparing to disembark.
"Dinner," he says, winking at me, rekindling that gleam in his eye.
He takes my hand, leading me through the crowd and down the gangplank. I laugh as we hold hands and run through the terminal before getting right back on the same boat. He hustles me up a flight of clanking metal stairs, stopping only when he has a hard time getting his wallet out of his back pocket.
"You take me on a free ferryboat ride and now you're buying me dinner from the concession stand? I thought this was supposed to be a dream date?" I bust him, letting my hand wander to his backside. "Here. Let me help you."
His wallet is stuck halfway out. I bite my lip to keep from giggling. This is quintessential Jilly. He's a pro at getting himself into scrapes like this, and before, I was always there to help him out of them. I don't even want to think about how he's been surviving on his own without me.
He flinches when he feels my fingers drop below his belt. I try to ignore his reaction when I grasp the leather billfold between my thumb and forefinger, but it won't budge. I place my other hand on his hip for leverage, and his shoulders rise up and down like he's breathing heavily. Is it from running around the ship or from what I'm doing to him? I pull again and his wallet almost pops out, but it's not free yet.
"Where in the world did you get these pants?" I huff, getting flustered.
"Don't ask," he deadpans as my fingers inadvertently grip the curve of his ass.
I'm getting all hot and bothered myself as I give the wallet one final tug. I can imagine how ridiculous we must look to the vendor, who's standing there watching us in amusement. Jilly and Hailey, at it again.
"Here." I smack his elbow with the wallet and he takes it from me. "And the cost of that complimentary grope session is two hot dogs with mustard, a soft pretzel, and an orange soda."
"Yes, ma'am." He glances at me over his shoulder, a slight trace of sweat visible on his brow.
Was he as turned on by that as I was? Boy, he's in terrific shape, his body taut and firm beneath my fingers. I can only imagine what he looks like naked. That shirtless pic on the subway was enough to get me to throw caution to the wind and reach out to him again. I can only imagine what I'll be capable of by the end of the night after I just fondled him in public.
He tucks two soda bottles under his arm and balances a cardboard tray in the palm of his hand. He juts his chin at me, beckoning me to follow him. The ferry issues last call and a few more people scramble off the dock, ready to head over to Manhattan. I try not to think about how Jilly was the first person on board, like there was no way in hell he was going to miss this boat. Maybe he's just tired from playing today and ready to call it a night. An inevitable sense of disappointment creeps up on me because I don't want our date to be over so soon.
I hurry behind him, and he claims a bench outside the cabin, taking a seat. I join him as the whistle blows. It's not long before we're back on the open water, scarfing down our meal and enjoying the sights. We don't talk much as we devour our food, too hungry to make conversation. I dab a glob of mustard away from my mouth and try not to notice how his eyes keep straying to my lips.
What's he thinking about? I'd give anything to know. Does he still want me the way I want him?
But if we keep seeing each other, what I've been doing is bound to come up, and I'd rather have this one perfect night with him than risk my secret coming to light. Tonight will have to be enough for me…even if it's not. Even if I want more of him than I'm able to have.
He polishes off his third hot dog before taking a swig of Mountain Dew, nudging
my arm with his. "Remember that building over there next to the Statue of Liberty?"
"Uh huh." I lick the pretzel salt from my fingers, and his gaze flickers once again to my mouth.
He clears his throat. "Good old Ellis Island… That's why I wanted to do this. That's what I wanted you to see."
I angle my body toward his. "Our senior class trip…"
"One of the best days ever." His eyes hold the promise of the past, present, and future, and I don't know where to look.
"Ellis Island, the one place you couldn't wait to visit." I smile to myself, pretending to brush some imaginary crumbs off my skirt.
"Well, you know what a genealogy buff I am." He slides a little closer to me. "It was awesome having you there to share it with me. It felt like my mom was smiling down on us from above or something."
"Are you still into genealogy as much as you used to be?" I try to slow down my heart to a more normal rhythm, but the memories keep flooding back hard and fast.
"You know it." He smiles at me. "I've made some pretty spectacular finds."
It's the most enthusiastic I've seen him all night. When he's talking about something he loves, something that means a lot to him, the words flow easily from his lips without any effort. It's when he's most himself, unafraid to show just how special he truly is.
"That's great," I whisper, encouraging him to go on, even though I'm already hanging on his every word.
I want nothing more than to press my lips against his and start anew. I was wrong to make him believe that I didn't care about him, that I could be happy in the arms of another guy. Even after all that, he's still here, ready and willing to give what we had another chance. I don't think I'm strong enough to deny him. I won't crush him a second time. It's why I entered this contest. It's why I'm here now. Because I've missed him. Oh, how I've missed him.
Game On Page 2