Silk

by Heidi McLaughlin

  Besides, I didn’t really do the whole dating thing. In fact, I couldn’t remember the last time I had gone on a real date. It wasn’t that I didn’t like dating ... or men ... or eating, which is what dates always seemed to center around. It was just that dating is a pointless endeavor when it can’t turn into something more.

  “Thanks for the offer. Really,” I said. “But I had a really hard day ... and I think I’m coming down with something.” I manufactured a cough and looked guiltily at my feet.

  He looked a little taken aback. I was lying, and he probably knew it. I was betting that he didn’t get turned down very often. Maybe never. “Well, okay,” he said. “I’ll see you around, Alexis.”

  He turned on his heel and was headed down the soup aisle before I could say anything else. I wondered if I’d imagined the emphasis that was on my name, but at least he’d used my full name this time.

  I grabbed a few more things and left the deli. I walked the remaining few blocks to my building in an Adam-induced stupor. His mood swings were a little terrifying. And, yet, as I walked into my utterly quiet apartment and shut the door behind me, I suddenly felt alone. I leaned back against the door and sighed as my cat, Rubber Cat, weaved figure eights through my legs.

  I wondered if this little spinster life that I had planned for myself was such a good idea. Adam was incredibly sexy. Maybe I could play a little. He was also dark and mysterious, and maybe a little broken. There was something about him that was positively enticing. Not for the first time, I wished that I could remember our night together. I mentally smacked myself on the head when I realized that swoony girl was back. What the hell was going on with me?

  After changing into my pajamas, I threw myself onto the couch. Rubber Cat stuck his butt in my face before kneading the couch and then curling up beside me. He pressed into the side of my thigh and started his little throat rattle. I looked at my companion and consoled myself with a heaping bowl full of Captain Crunch and Biscoff. As expected, it was a bowl of delightful perfection.

  The bowl and the cat would just have to be enough to keep me satisfied.

  ***

  The rest of the week dragged by, but I finally made it to Friday evening. I should have let the whole Adam thing go by now. He was certainly not the first random guy that I met in a bar and haphazardly bedded down. But he was the first that I had obsessed over. And what I had done all week would definitely be considered obsessing. Why was I still thinking about him? I had turned him down when he asked me out on a real date. And yet all I could think about was whether I would ever see him again.

  I was just finishing up some work in my office when Ethan swung by. “What up, A-lister?” he asked, plopping down in the chair opposite my desk. “Where are we going tonight?”

  “I don’t know. I was thinking that we could go back to The Library,” I answered nonchalantly. He shot me a knowing look. Even trying to be unobvious, he saw straight through me.

  “Ahh, you think that we might run into him,” he said with a smirk. He placed a hand across his heart and closed his eyes, “You are breaking my heart here. You are always so quick to cheat on me.”

  “You are crazy. It’s been a long week, and I need a cocktail,” I said with feigned innocence. “Or four.”

  Ethan popped up out of the chair. Convincing him to hit a happy hour was never a daunting task. “That’s my girl. I’ll get my stuff and meet you at the elevator in 10,” he said. “But if we run into him, I’m going to stick my hand up your shirt so he knows you’re mine tonight.”

  I rolled my eyes at him as he headed down the hall, singing “Love in Elevator ...”

  The bar was already getting crowded when we got there. Ethan placed his hand on the small of my back and pushed me through the maze of bodies toward the bar. We grabbed the last two unoccupied stools and sat down to make an evening of it. The bartender breezed by and Ethan shouted out our order over the noise.

  As we settled in, he began telling me about the disaster that was his second date with Meghan the weekend before. I tried to listen, but my attention was on every face in the room as I looked for him.

  The bartender sat our drinks down in front of us and asked if she could get us anything else. She was a striking brunette in a tight t-shirt that showed off what her momma gave her. Ethan gave her his most charming smile, and I knew we were headed into dangerous territory.

  “Actually, yes, you can help us with something,” he answered, “My wife and I were just discussing ways to spice up our bedroom. She wants to paint it a rowdy red, but I was thinking that a little brunette might be what it needs.”

  The bartender’s eyes narrowed into angry little slits. But as Ethan threw his head back and laughed, her mood shifted 180 degrees. His laugh would do that to a girl. It was a fantastic, boyish laugh that bubbled up from somewhere deep inside his soul. Over the years, I had watched him use that laugh to charm the pants off many, many a girl.

  “I am totally kidding,” he said. He pointed at me. “She is most definitely not my wife. She’s emotionally barren and incapable of giving me what I need. But I bet you can because I could really use some loaded cheese fries when you get time.”

  “Sure thing, honey,” she answered with a big smile. “My name is Miranda. Just yell if you need any thing else.” She turned away from us and headed to the register to immediately enter his order, ignoring the four people that had just walked up to the bar.

  “I don’t know how you get away with that shit,” I glared at him. “And with a bartender none the less. They are like the holy grail of unattainable women.”

  “Skills, Alexis. I’ve got skills,” he answered with a wink. Then he drained his glass in one drink. Yep, he was going to need a refill, STAT, and that would require Miranda to come back.

  After two more drinks and a massive plate of cheese fries, I was done. The dark horse that I had bet on wasn’t even going to show up, let alone win the race. I was disappointed, and I was annoyed by my disappointment. I had to be honest with myself though. I had really hoped that he would be here tonight, looking for me like I was looking for him.

  I told Ethan that I was calling it a night and threw some cash on the bar to cover my half of our tab. Then I left alone. As I walked home, I made up my mind. I was moving on from Adam Michael Hill.

  CHAPTER 4

  Adam

  I had fought the urge to go looking for her Friday night. There was a reasonable chance that she would probably be at The Library. But I wasn’t ready to meet up with her quite yet.

  Watching her for a week hadn’t helped me to solidify a plan. Even if I had a plan, I wasn’t sure she would play her part. She had turned me down. I’d thought about her every day for the last 10 years. A part of me wanted to walk away and spend the next 10 years trying to forget her. But another part of me couldn’t let go of the fact that she was living just a mere 10 subway stops away.

  Alexis

  My life returned to normal. I went to work. I went home. The days blended together. Over a week had passed with no Adam sightings.

  Spring should have been closing in, but the cold air was brisk and heavy as I left the office on Thursday night. A late season snowfall was imminent. I clutched my coat tightly around me and picked up the pace. I practiced my therapist’s deep breathing techniques and let the frigid air clear my head. The old Alexis was back. I felt like myself again. No more swooning. It felt good to leave that weak, dumbstruck girl behind. After all, I didn’t want or need a man taking up space in my head.

  I swung into Michelangelo’s on Pearl Street. It was a family-owned restaurant, specializing in rich, garlicky Italian food that was slap-your-momma good. It required a tiny detour on my walk home from work, but I was happy to make it. In fact, it was so good that I had gotten dinner here three times last week alone.

  The hostess, Emilie, recognized me immediately. “Hey, Alexis,” she said. “We haven’t seen you in a few days.” Rather than offering to seat me, she handed me the list of to
day’s specials. An actual menu was completely unnecessary. I ate here so frequently that I had it practically memorized.

  “I know,” I said, reading through the sheet of specials. “I’ve been working late every night and ordering food into the office.”

  “You know, Dad would be happy to deliver to you any time. Just call it in,” she said as the door chimed behind me.

  I was trying to decide between the veal cannelloni and the lasagna rolls when a deep voice said, “Brrrr. It’s getting colder out there.” The voice was familiar, and it was haunting. It was haunting because it was the same damn voice that had been echoing around my head for a week and a half. Allie. Allie. Allie.

  My head snapped up as Adam strode up to the hostess stand. “Table for two, or will you be dining alone tonight?” Emilie asked, with a sexy lilt in her voice. I tore my eyes away from Adam to look at Emilie. She was looking him up and down appraisingly.

  Oh, hell, no. I could feel a blush creep up my cheeks. My claws came out, and I narrowed my eyes at Emilie. Suddenly, the woman who had snuck free cannolis into my bag more times than I could count had turned into my enemy.

  What the hell was going on? I was acting like a crazy person. I couldn’t lay any claim to Adam. A week ago, I wouldn’t even have dinner with him. My jealousy was completely and totally outrageous.

  He finally looked at me. “Well, isn’t this fortuitous,” he said with a smirk. “How are you, Alexis?” His voice dripped sarcasm when he said my name, and this time I was sure that I heard correctly.

  “Hi,” I said quietly. “I was just getting ready to order some takeout.” Suddenly, I felt pathetic. Eating takeout in front of the TV four days a week was not a life.

  “Just a table for one for me,” he said, smiling warmly at Emilie before shifting his gaze back to me. Emilie sashayed by him, but stopped before heading toward the back of the restaurant.

  She turned back toward us with a mischievous gleam in her eye. “Since you clearly know each other, maybe you would like to join him, Alexis, while I get your dinner wrapped up.”

  She really was the enemy. She was not getting a tip tonight.

  “Yes, sit down and have a drink with me,” he said in a sexy, commanding voice.

  I looked past him at Emilie. She nodded her head enthusiastically at me and winked. She was seriously not getting a tip.

  “I wouldn’t want to impose,” I said.

  I couldn’t believe my own ears. After thinking about him for days ... after obsessing over when and if I would see him again, I was turning him down. For the second time. I was completely and totally screwed in the head.

  “It’s just one drink,” he said. His eyes were fixed on me in a death-defying stare. It was if he was practically daring me to sit down.

  Maybe one drink wouldn’t hurt. Besides, despite living in a city of 8 million people, Adam seemed to be around every corner. Maybe fate was stepping in and forcing my hand. Either way, it seemed inevitable that at some point I would have to give in.

  “Okay,” I said, resigned. “That would be great.”

  He held out his arm, gesturing for me to join him. As I walked past him, he rested his hand lightly on the small of my back. Just like at the deli, electricity ripped through my body. The air between us was charged. This time I couldn’t chalk it up to mere static electricity. I searched his face to see if he had felt, too, but he looked at me blankly, giving nothing away.

  He removed his hand from my back as we made our way to the back of the restaurant where Emilie was standing by an open booth. Even though my back tingled where his hand had been, I felt like the cold front from outside had suddenly settled on top of me. I hated the crushing disappointment that I felt at the loss of his touch.

  “I’m sorry I didn’t dress up for you,” he said, gesturing to his wind pants and t-shirt. “I hadn’t planned on a date tonight. I was just coming from the gym again.” His words were innocent enough, but there was a bite to them. Did he not want me here with him? If not, why had he encouraged me to join him?

  “This is not a date,” I said, too sharply.

  “Anyway, you look fine,” I said, trying to lighten the mood. And he did, too. He looked better than fine, actually. Though he was dressed casually, he had cleaned up before leaving the gym. He smelled delicious. A spicy, musky scent mixed with bar soap.

  We slid into seats opposite each other and took off our coats. I smiled at his t-shirt, which had a cartoon drawing of a man drinking straight out of a keg. Underneath the cartoon were the printed words ‘I’m a terrible designated driver.’

  “Are you laughing at my shirt?” he asked with false indignation. His lip curled up, and then he smiled smugly at me. “Based on our first night together, I have a suspicion that you can’t be counted on for a safe ride home either.” I blushed at the reference to our first night together.

  “Oh, well, I don’t drive. So I never run into that problem,” I said dismissively, waving my hand in the air between us.

  “You don’t drive?” he asked with surprise. “At all?”

  “Not at all. Why would I ever need to drive?” I asked gesturing to the front door and the streets beyond. “This city has a bounty of transportation offerings. Cabs, buses, the subway ....” I finished. I could actually hear the cabs honking outside. I wanted to end this line of questioning.

  He scratched his chin, mulling something over. “But you know how, right?” he continued. His question was innocent enough, but it wasn’t one that I would answer honestly. Luckily, Emilie chose that moment to approach our table to ask about drinks.

  “Can I please get a glass of the house merlot?” I asked Emilie.

  “We will just have a bottle,” he said, never taking his eyes off of me. “Is that okay? Or will you need me to drive you home tonight?”

  Emilie ran off to get our wine before I could argue with him. “I should be able to make it home on my own two feet,” I laughed. “I just live around the corner.”

  Though I wanted to steer the conversation in a different direction, my curiosity got the better of me. I couldn’t resist pressing on. “Besides, to drive me home, you would have to have a car?” It came out as a question.

  “Uh, yeah. I have a car though it’s back at my place,” he said, not meeting my eyes. “I rarely have any reason to drive it.”

  I was kind of flabbergasted by this information. Aside from some of the more wealthy partners in my office, I didn’t know anybody who kept a car in the city. Certainly, no one my age had a car. Even my wealthiest friends in law school didn’t have cars.

  “So you could have offered me a ride home last week?” I asked.

  “Well, I could have,” he said hesitantly. “But you didn’t stick around long enough.”

  I didn’t really think that he would have actually offered if I had hung out, but I wasn’t going to go there. “About that,” I started. “I don’t want you to think that I do that all the time. You know, meet strange men in bars and then go home with them.”

  “So ... you are saying that I’m strange?” he asked with sincerity.

  “Well, yeah,” I said with a laugh. “I think you really may be.”

  His eyes flashed again, and his shoulders tensed. I had only been kidding, but I guess I had struck a nerve. I winced at the tension between us and considered that a second date shouldn’t be this hard. Then I reminded myself that this was not a second date.

  “I’m sorry,” I started. “I was just kidding ....”

  He cut me off. “I’m probably not like the other guys you go out with, right? I’m sure all the guys you date have PhDs or MDs or JDs, or some other shit stuck on the end of their names.” There was an edge to his words.

  I looked down at my hands, which were twisting my napkin around my finger. “Not really,” I said. “I don’t really date.”

  And just like that, his mood changed again. “Could have fooled me,” he said with a glimmer in his eye. Fun, playful Adam was back, and I was glad. Angry Adam
was a little scary.

  “Well, that’s not really dating,” I stammered. “Anyway, like I said, I don’t do that all the time.”

  “But you don’t date either?” he said. His wheels were turning. Tonight’s conversation was full of landmines. He was laying them down, and it was all I could do to sidestep them.

  “I don’t. That’s why I told you no last week. It wasn’t personal,” I said.

  I decided that Emilie was back in my corner because she picked that moment to make a reappearance with our wine.

  “What can I get you guys to eat?” she asked, looking at us expectantly.

  “I’ll have the lasagna rolls,” I said, and then added, “to go.”

  “I’ll have the baked tilapia ... no oil, please,” he said. “And she’ll have hers here to stay.”

  Before I could say anything, Emilie scurried off. Adam looked at me guiltily. “I’m not above tricking you to get you to have dinner with me,” he said.

  I shook my finger at him, but let a smile creep over my face. He was too damn good looking for my own good. He was also very charming when he wanted to be. I decided then and there that I was just going to roll with it. I silenced the panicky voice in my head that was telling me that I was heading into dangerous and uncharted territory. I couldn’t help it. I wanted to see where the night would lead.

  Dinner went smoother after that. We made small talk. He learned that I was from Dallas and had both my undergraduate and law degrees from Columbia. I let it spill that I was a self-proclaimed workaholic with a penchant for knitting and reality television. I told him that I was an only child, but that it wouldn’t have been my first choice. I learned that he was currently in film school at NYU ... and that’s all I learned.

  To anyone observing, it would have seemed like a stereotypical first date. Each time I asked him a question, he successfully steered the conversation away from himself and back to me. We found a rhythm where I did most of the talking and he listened with rapt attention. I let myself relax in his company, almost forgetting why I had a dating prohibition in place.