In the Wake of Wanting

by Lori L. Otto

  “You sound like my pawpaw,” she says with mock sweetness.

  I glare at her. “Well, they’re fancy… lots of places would let you in. We’d just say you’re from the East Village.”

  “Where are you taking me?”

  “Well… it’s going to be a little bit of a disappointment, but it was the best I could do with my poor planning. We’re going to the private dining area at the Rainbow Room.” I hail a cab at the curb and let her in first.

  “I think there’s a little disparity in my idea of disappointment and yours,” she explains, her smile wide. “The Rainbow Room? The Rainbow Room? Isn’t it closed to the public on Fridays?”

  “Yes. We are not the public. Hence the word ‘private’ in private dining.” That earns me an elbow in the gut. “Sorry, that was a smart-ass thing to say. But… having the Holland name has its privileges. This is another. And there just happened to be a cancellation.”

  “So, wait. What’s the disappointing part?”

  “There’s a live jazz band playing at Bar SixtyFive next door, so we may hear some of their music… I mean. Sorry,” I say, my most insincere apology.

  “Let’s dance,” she says, remembering the notebook I gave her and smiling up at me. I put my arm around her. “When did you make this reservation?”

  I look away from her when I answer. “Last Saturday.”

  “Before you broke up with her?” I nod. “But you made it for me?” Again, I answer in the affirmative.

  “I know it was wrong, but I knew where I wanted to take you, and I knew I couldn’t wait any longer or else my chances of making it happen would be even less. It’s a miracle they had availability in the first place.” I look back down at her. “Please don’t think any less of me. I’m a planner. Shit just happened to overlap a little.”

  “I understand.”

  After paying the driver, we go inside Rockefeller Center and head up to the 65th floor. A host is stationed at the front, waiting for us.

  “Trey Holland,” he says. “Right this way.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Mr. Holland, or Trey?” he asks.

  “Trey is fine,” I say with a light chuckle. The guy has to be at least ten years older than me. I can’t have him calling me Mr. Holland.

  “And your guest?”

  “Miss Fitz…” I trail off, looking at her to choose how she’d like to be addressed.

  “Coley,” she says.

  “Corey?”

  “Coley. Rhymes with Holy.”

  “That’s pretentious,” I whisper under my breath to her. She rolls her eyes and smiles.

  After he shows us to the private room, and after thinking about him asking for her name, I hand him a folded 100-dollar bill. “Discretion would be great,” I tell him quietly to the side.

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Just Trey,” I remind him as I wait for my date to untie the belt on her coat. When she’s finished, I assist her with its removal and hand it to the host. “Wow.” The word slips out when I catch sight of her without the jacket. The lightweight white dress is loosely gathered at her waist with sleeves that just barely cover her shoulders. It has a conservative neckline with a V-shape that only dips about two inches below her collarbone.

  “What?”

  “When I saw your reflection in the window earlier, the word ‘angelic’ came to mind. I didn’t realize what an accurate description that would turn out to be tonight. And the word ‘holy’ doesn’t seem so pretentious anymore.”

  “It’s not too sweet and… demure? I don’t have a whole lot of dresses.”

  “I think it’s lovely. I think you’re lovely.” At the small table next to the towering windows, I pull out one of the chairs and offer her a seat. She looks out over the city in awe. Sitting across from her, I watch Coley in similar reverence. I’ve seen the New York City skyline hundreds of nights, but I’ve never seen her like this–her face illuminated by a small candle on the table and her eyes bright with the wonderment of the view in front of her.

  “Where is our disappointing music?” she ponders aloud.

  I look at my watch. “They start in fifteen minutes.”

  Two waitresses tend to us and take our drink and appetizer orders. The second they leave, I start to stand up, not wanting to wait any longer to kiss her. Damn the aftermath.

  “Back to what we were talking about in the cab,” she starts before I’m to my feet, “I know you had feelings for me when you were dating Zaina.” I adjust my chair, pretending like that’s all I was doing. “Is there a part of me that wishes you didn’t? Of course. Is there a part of me that still considers that cheating? Kind of,” she admits. My stomach ties itself in a knot. “But I respect how you handled it, and I know if she had lived here, you would have done things differently.”

  I didn’t really expect this sort of confrontation, and it hurts a little to hear her admission. “Coley, I hate that you think I was cheating when all I did for weeks was everything to avoid cheating on her.” I sigh in frustration. “Yeah, sometimes our conversations went a little too far, and God knows my thoughts were not faithful to her, but there were times when I wanted to act–so many times–but I didn’t. I wouldn’t do that. I felt guilty every night for having feelings for someone else, too. In hindsight, maybe I should have ended it sooner, over the phone. I don’t know.”

  “Maybe cheating isn’t the right word. Inconstant? Untrue?” She takes a sip of her soda. “I didn’t mean to blame you for any wrongdoing. Like I said, I think you did the right thing. I think she deserved to have an in-person conversation. I know I would want that.” She stops for a second and looks out the window. When I don’t say anything back, she continues. “Please don’t make a note of that for the future.”

  I reach for her hand across the table. “Not noted.” She looks back over at me. “Hopefully not needed.”

  The muscles in her shoulders slacken; her eyebrows rise. I’m not even trying to say the right things to her–words that are simply meant to be spoken to Coley are coming out of my mouth before my mind even knows what it’s about to say or forces my lips to speak. My heart and brain and instincts have never all been in sync before. It’s an entirely new thing for me.

  “Were you about to kiss me?” she asks. “Before?”

  “I was. I was when I thought we had some time before they brought in our salads.”

  “I need you to kiss me.”

  “Need?”

  “Before I say something that will totally freak you out, Trey. I need you to kiss me right now.”

  I don’t consider it another second or look behind me to see who might be watching. I stand up at the same time she does. She pushes her chair out of the way and I walk up to her, putting my right hand on the small of her back and my left hand on her cheek. I look into her eyes for less than two seconds before I close mine, pressing my lips to hers, and immediately knowing I need more of her. Another kiss. Her gloss smells and tastes like vanilla, such a comforting and familiar flavor that makes me keep going back for more kisses. They aren’t tentative. They’re confident and needful, quick and wanting. Not just coming from me, but from her, too.

  She’s the first to introduce her tongue, but I’m the first to show my verbal approval with a low, involuntary groan. I wrap my right arm around her to hold her tighter against me and thread the fingers of my left hand through her hair, holding my palm against her scalp. Her hands find their way up my jacket, and her short fingernails scrape up and down my back.

  We keep kissing–deeper, slower now–and when I start to gather her dress in my right hand, I remember why I wanted to be at home when I kissed her for the first time.

  I knew it would be soul-lifting and earth-shattering. I knew I wouldn’t want to quit. I knew I would need to continue glorifying this goddess I hold in my grasp until my fingertips had grazed every last inch of her divine being and my mouth had gratified every last one of her demands, be it implicit or cried out in a bout of frenzied passion.r />
  But I pull back, stopping things before I find a way to block the entrance to the private dining area and earn myself a lifetime ban from the Rainbow Room.

  I kiss Coley across her forehead as she struggles to regain her breath. By this time, my shirt is untucked, and her fingers are tickling my bare skin just above the waistband of my pants–in the front.

  “Nothing you could say would freak me out, Coley,” I tell her. “I’m in love with you.”

  “Yeah, that’s what I was going to say. I’m crazy in love with you, Trey.”

  “Even after that kiss?”

  “Especially after that kiss. I’m very curious about the aftermath…”

  “How curious?” I ask her, leaning down and giving her a sweet, soft peck on the side of her lips.

  “I’m hoping you’ll show me at your apartment after dinner,” she says. “Maybe we can stop by my place and get my Punjammies first,” she says flirtatiously.

  “You want to have a sleep over?” I ask.

  “Well, I’d like to come over. We’ll see about sleeping,” she proposes.

  “You’re definitely coming,” I whisper in her ear before kissing her temple.

  She pushes me away. “I don’t know if you do dirty talk or not, so I’m not sure how to take that…”

  “Don’t dissect my sentences, laureate. But you can count on the coming part…”

  She bites her bottom lip and smiles, looking away as she blushes. “Trey? When did they bring our salads?” she asks. I look to my side and see the first courses we’d ordered sitting at our place settings. Coley’s dish is literally a foot away from us.

  “I guess somewhere between me moaning and you groping…” I finally release her and tuck in my shirt, checking around the room to see if anyone’s looking through the internal windows before taking my seat again.

  “Are you okay?” she asks.

  “I’m fine,” I tell her, even though I’m a little worried about someone invading our privacy by posting details of our kiss–or worse yet, pictures of it–online. I wouldn’t mind so much if I hadn’t broken up with Zaina less than a week ago. I know she would be hurt to see evidence of me dating already. Not just dating, but being so publicly affectionate with someone else.

  More publicly affectionate than I ever was with her.

  I start eating, but after two minutes, curiosity gets the best of me. Reaching into my pocket, I retrieve my cell phone and put it on the table, loading the site for ManhattanNOW! It’s the most well-known tabloid site in the city, and the one known to pay the best rates for dirt on celebrities. So far, there’s nothing about us on it.

  It’s only been a few minutes, Trey.

  “I guess we got a little carried away,” she comments.

  “It’s fine,” I reiterate.

  Because I’m so distracted by our conversations, I don’t check my phone again until after dinner. When I see nothing on it at that point, I feel like we’re in the clear. By then, the band at the bar is in full swing, all of our dishes have been taken away, and the bill has been paid. I ordered a pitcher of water and requested that we have some privacy for a bit, so I ask Coley if she’d like to dance the moment a slower song starts to play.

  I know we won’t be bothered by the wait staff, but the fact remains that windows still line the room on all sides, not just the side overlooking the city, so I don’t feel comfortable kissing her like I want to again.

  “I’m not the best dancer,” I tell her. “I can keep rhythm and that’s about it.”

  “If you can do that while you’re holding me, then you’re all the dancer I need.”

  I guide her to the one corner of the room where the windows intersect and give a view of the city. We embrace one another and she puts her head against my chest–higher up than normal, with her heels elevating her height by a few inches. I kiss the top of her head as I focus on our reflection, admiring her figure in the glass until I have to turn away from it with the music.

  “Can you help me learn sign language?” I ask her. “Something other than the alphabet?”

  She stops moving.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Really, Trey?”

  “What?” I let go of her, gently holding her shoulders and pushing her away so I can see her expression. It’s a mixture of confusion and happiness, with watery eyes. “What is that look?”

  “It’s our first date, and you’re wanting to learn how to communicate with my brother. Did you know that none of my past boyfriends have ever bothered to learn a word? Not even a letter?”

  “Well, wait. Technically, yes, it’s our first date, but it’s not really a first date. I wouldn’t sleep with someone on the first date,” I tell her. “This is Day Five. I have this new-math accounting system going for us that helps me justify our timing. It’s Day Five, but really, aren’t we kind of further along than that, too? Emotionally?”

  “It’s our first date. If it’s not our first date, Trey, then you cheated on Zaina,” she states. “Your new-math doesn’t save you from that. But we know each other better than most strangers who go on first dates. I wouldn’t sleep with just anyone on the first date, either, but I’m sleeping with you tonight.”

  “Well, in Coley-and-Trey Math, I think Day Five is the right time to sleep together.”

  “I think, mathematically, that is correct,” she agrees. “I mean, it’s our math. We make the rules, yeah?”

  “Yeah.”

  “So, anyway…” She shrugs away from me and stands perfectly erect with her arms to her side. I watch her until she finally brings her hands up, signing something. When she finishes, she nods at me.

  “Oh, I’m supposed to do that?”

  “You wanted me to teach you…”

  “Do it again.”

  This time, she slows down, and I mimic her movements.

  “That said, ‘Tonight, we are going to my apartment.’”

  “My apartment?”

  “Yes, your apartment.” I grin and repeat the words I just learned. “Good.” She teaches me some new signs.

  “We’re going to flirt for awhile, and I’m going to kiss you.”

  “Yes, I am,” I say aloud while repeating the motions. She reaches out to correct me on one of the signs, and I commit it to memory. Her touch is warm and rousing. “What next?”

  She moves her hands again. “We’re going to make out on my couch.”

  I grin and nod, presumably getting everything right this time. “Then?”

  “I’m going to take off your clothes.” She says it as she signs it.

  “You’re going to take off mine, or I’m going to take off yours?” I ask her.

  “Let’s do it together,” she says, repeating the phrase with me this time.

  “Okay? Wait.” I go back to an earlier sign, hoping I remembered it correctly.

  She grins and waves me toward her. I take a step and place my hands on her cheeks, planting a shallow kiss on her lips. I want more, but I want to be at my apartment for that since she’s plotting our evening out so succinctly for us. “Now what?”

  “Let’s get out of here,” she says with her voice and hands. “I’ll show you the rest at your place.”

  The host was kind enough to hang her coat on the back of a chair by the door, so I help her with it before showing her out. “You realize none of these phrases will help me with Joel, right?” I ask her.

  “I’ll just start signing when I talk to you,” she offers, doing as she says.

  “But then we couldn’t do this.” I take her hand, interlocking her dainty fingers with my sturdy ones.

  “Those moments we aren’t holding hands. Plus, we can have lessons. I can recommend some videos, too.”

  “Okay.” As we walk to the cab, our hands stay linked and remain like that all the way to her dorm.

  Standing outside her room, Coley peeks in to check her roommate’s state of dress. Just as she pulls me in the darkened space and opens the door wide enough for us both to ent
er, she stops. “Oh! Pryana!” She releases my hand quickly.

  On a sleeping bag atop a yoga mat on the floor lies our editor-in-chief, and I feel like I’ve just been caught sneaking around with someone I wasn’t supposed to be with.

  “Hey, Pree.” I step back into the doorway, allowing the hallway light to provide more illumination than the small monitor on the dresser was.

  “Trey! Hi, uh… hey!”

  “Is everything okay?” Coley asks her.

  “I just got spooked tonight, and Teri said it was okay if I slept over.”

  “Oh sure! Of course, it’s fine! In fact,” she says, “you don’t need to sleep on the floor. Guest room,” she blurts, twirling around on the ball of her foot and looking at me.

  “Right!” I nod my head. If the light were on me, she’d see the color of my face was revealing our true motives for coming to Coley’s room in the first place.

  “I bet Trey would be okay if I slept in his guest room again tonight.”

  “Absolutely I would. In fact, why don’t you pack some things?” I suggest.

  “Guys?” Pryana says. “Teri told me you were on a date.” She nods her head.

  “Sorry, Coley,” her roommate says. “I wasn’t aware it was a secret.”

  “Well, I mean, we went to dinner,” I say. “Sure.”

  “I didn’t know you’d broken up with Zaina. But Teri filled me in on all the news tonight. I’ve been a little out of touch, I guess. I don’t have a problem with this, but Aslon may not like it…”

  “She knows,” I tell her.

  “She does?” Coley asks.

  “Yeah.”

  “Huh. You need to fill me in on that.”

  “I will.”

  “Still,” Coley says. “He was just walking me up to tell me good night. I mean… it’s one thing that we were on a date. I’m definitely staying in the guest room,” she avers.

  “Definitely,” I agree.

  “Guys!” Pryana interrupts. “We don’t care. As long as I’m not putting you out, Coley.”

  “No, not at all. Trey’s a really generous host. The bed is more comfortable than any bed I’ve ever slept on, the guest room has its own private and pristine bathroom, he puts candy on your pillow, he gives you a glass of ice, cold water before you go to bed, and he has your favorite coffee waiting for you when you get up.”