by Nicki Night
She looked down at her watch. The sun had tucked itself away before the evening had fully unfolded, but it was now well into the night. “It’s really true. This city doesn’t sleep.” Chey shook her head. “People are out all over the place. Back home, my entire town shuts down around nine thirty. It used to be at eight.”
“There’s still so much more to see,” Hunter boasted.
“Really!” Wonder flashed in her eyes.
“Yeah. We didn’t go through Chinatown or Little Italy. There’s SoHo, NoHo, Battery Park City, the Meatpacking District.”
“Wow. I can’t believe I’ve been living right in the middle of all of this and haven’t taken it all in. I need to get out more.”
“And you haven’t hit the boroughs yet.”
“Goodness.”
They strolled in silence for a few more minutes before Chey stopped walking. Hunter looked to see what had taken her attention.
“What’s up?”
“It’s beautiful.”
Hunter followed Chey’s line of sight to the moonlight wading in the East River under the Brooklyn Bridge. For a moment, he admired the sight along with her.
“You know, this bridge is one of the oldest of its type in the entire country. It took about thirteen years to complete it. Construction was completed in 1883.” Chey smiled with her eyes still on the historical structure. Hunter continued. “They used to charge people one penny to walk across the bridge, five cents if you rode a horse, and if you had other animals like sheep, pigs or cows, you had to pay five cents for each one.”
Chey marveled at his lesson and laughed. “Could you imagine seeing someone cross the bridge now with some sheep or cows in tow?”
“I know. People protested and it’s been free to cross ever since.”
“Wow.” She turned back toward the bridge. “Such rich history.”
Hunter noticed her eyes sparkle under the streetlight. He watched the lean line of her neck as she stared up at the buildings. A smile touched her lips as she took in the scenery. He felt a pang of hunger ball up in his core. He wanted to taste her lips again. She’s off-limits, he reminded himself.
“I have one more neighborhood to show you before I take you back home.”
“Wow. It’s almost hard to believe there are still parts of the city that I haven’t seen.”
“Let’s go.” Hunter took her by the hand. Immediately, he regretted teasing himself with her touch. The muscle between his thighs stirred. Hunter took a breath and they walked back to the car in silence.
Chey stared out the window, clearly eager to continue taking everything in. Hunter couldn’t help but smile at how erect she sat, moving her head side to side trying to see all that they passed. He pointed out a few more landmarks until he made it to his destination.
Chey gasped and then broke out into a fit of laughter. “Where are we?”
“The Village!” Hunter rode around for a few minutes in search of a parking spot. He finally spotted one along Washington Square Park about a block from New York University. He rounded the car, then opened the door on Chey’s side and helped her out.
“Are you okay to walk a little more?”
“Sure. I’ll sleep well when I get back home.”
Taking her hand, Hunter led her toward West Fourth Street. They wound their way through the lively streets, checking out eateries, lounges, tattoo shops and clubs.
Again Chey marveled and sometimes gawked at Mohawks, partially shaved heads, hair colored in all hues, bold piercings and punk-rock and goth-inspired clothing juxtaposed against business suits and casual attire.
“Now I truly see how much of a melting pot New York is.”
“What makes you say that?”
“Just looking around.” Chey stopped walking and did just that, looked around. “There are so many...” Chey pondered a moment, seemingly thinking of the right word “...flavors of people here in New York and still they all just flow together. Everyone is just doing their own thing, not fazed by anyone else’s uniqueness. No matter how much a person stands out, they don’t...stand out.”
“Yeah?”
Chey chuckled. “Back home if you’re different in any way, you stand out like a sore thumb. The people are not as accepting of those who don’t settle into a specific mold. There aren’t many neighborhoods where you will see a person dressed in a business suit walking down the street totally unfazed by the punk rocker next to them or someone with a body full of piercings. Here it’s okay to be whoever you are. That’s pretty cool.”
“That’s New York for you.”
“I’m glad I’m here.”
Hunter stopped walking. “Me, too.” Narrowing his eyes, he licked his lips and started walking again.
Hunter could tell Chey was getting tired. Her droopy eyes made her look sexy and staring into them threatened his composure.
“Ready to go?”
As if on cue, she yawned. “Oh. Sorry.”
“No apology necessary. I’m getting tired, too. Let’s get you home.” Hunter turned back and led the way to the car.
“Thanks, Hunter. This was amazing.”
“I’m glad you enjoyed it. Like I said, there’s still so much to see. Maybe you’ll finally get to that Broadway show.”
“That would be great!”
“Oh! Wait!”
Chey flinched, startled by Hunter’s sudden outburst. “What?”
“We have to do one more thing before I take you home.”
Chey stretched her eyes at him as another series of yawns strung themselves together, proving how tired she was. “My goodness! Excuse me. Maybe we should save that for the next time.”
“Next time.” Hunter flashed a rascally smile. “So there’s going to be a next time.”
Chey rolled her eyes and swatted him. “Sure, but no dates.”
Hunter held his hands up. “No dates.” He laughed, grabbed her and gently pulled her along. “This won’t take long. It’s on the way back to the car.”
At the end of the block, Hunter cut a left and walked to a shop tucked in a small nook along the street.
“Do you like crepes?” he asked Chey.
“Sure.” Chey put her hands on her stomach. “But I can’t eat another thing.”
“You’ll just need a taste. We can share. This guy has the best crepes in the city.”
“He’s open now?” Chey glanced at her watch.
“This is New York, baby.”
“Oh. Pfft. Yeah. I forgot.” Chey teasingly rolled her eyes.
Hunter stepped up to the window to place his order. A few moments later the slim man was passing his crepe through the opening. Hunter stepped out of the way of the patron behind him and unraveled the crepe.
“Here. Taste.” Hunter put the crepe up to Chey’s mouth.
Chey bit down and closed her eyes. “Mmm. Oh my goodness.” She pulled back as some chocolate dripped on the side of her lip. Before she could get to it, Hunter wiped her mouth with his thumb and licked it. Chey blinked but continued chewing.
Hunter took a bite. “Come on. Let’s get to the car,” he said as he started walking.
“Wait a minute!” Chey stood in the same spot, not moving.
“What’s wrong?” Hunter asked, gnawing on another bite.
“I need another bite.” Chey stepped to Hunter, rose to her toes and bit the crepe.
“I thought you couldn’t eat another thing,” Hunter mocked her.
“Who said that?” Chey snatched the rest of the crepe from Hunter and ran.
Laughing, Hunter ran after her. When he caught up with her, there was only a small piece left.
“Here.” Chey lifted the remaining piece toward Hunter’s mouth. “You can have the last piece.”
Hunter’s eyes were glued to hers. He made sure his tongue touched her finger as she fed him the sweet treat. She cleared her throat when his tongue made contact. A dribble of chocolate sauce was smeared on the side of his mouth. Chey wiped it and put that finger in her mouth. For several moments, they were arrested in each other’s gazes.
“We better go.” Chey finally spoke.
“Yeah. You’re tired.”
Hunter took her hand and escorted her to the car. She fell asleep on the ride back to her apartment. When they arrived in front of her building, he almost didn’t want to interrupt her peaceful slumber. Watching her took him right back to the villa when he’d had the pleasure of witnessing her bare chest rise and fall as she rested in front of the fire.
“Chey.” He called her name and had to repeat it several times before she finally stirred.
Chey looked around, sitting up as she stretched. “We’re here already.” She yawned again. “Sorry I wasn’t good company on the ride back.”
“You’re always good company. Even when you’re asleep.”
Chey managed a lazy smile.
“I guess this is it. Thanks for such a great time.”
“You’re welcome.” Hunter pushed his door open and rounded the car to her side. “Let me walk you to your door. I promise not to drag you back out this time.” He helped her out.
“Humph. I don’t think I’d make it back down those steps.”
Again Hunter walked her up to her apartment, took the keys from her hand and opened her door for her.
“Thanks,” Chey said, standing in the opening.
Hunter gave her the keys and took one step back, trying to rein in the overpowering desire to kiss Chey’s lips.
“I guess I’ll see you in class on Tuesday.” She jiggled her keys but hadn’t moved to enter her apartment.
Hunter nodded and at first stayed put, but the hunger chided him, chastised his will and took command. In one step, his hand curled around to the small of her back, pulling her in, and his lips connected with hers. The unbridled passion that had been pent up the entire evening unleashed itself, making it impossible for him to release her. Chey’s hands found their way to his neck, massaging and caressing it. They kissed until they were breathless, pulling apart to suck in much-needed air.
“Good night, Professor.” Her silky whisper graced Hunter’s hearing like a feather.
“This wasn’t a date.”
“I know.” Chey turned around, walked inside and closed the door, leaving Hunter leaning against the wall, tantalized by that small taste.
Chapter 22
Hunter’s tour encouraged Chey to get out more, and despite the bitter cold, he made good on his promise to help her explore the city. She’d come to know more about New York in recent weeks than she had in all of her years visiting as a child combined. As one who thoroughly enjoyed a good meal, Chey was particularly elated about the many restaurants. She could go days without indulging in the same kind of cuisine.
Chey also enjoyed becoming more familiar with Hunter. The two had become quite comfortable in each other’s company and were on their way to being great friends in spite of the sexual tension that crackled in the atmosphere every time they were alone. Beyond their first evening together, they hadn’t even kissed again until last night. Chey had given in to her desire and boldly pulled Hunter in for a toe-bending tongue duel that had left them both gasping for air. Usually, they were mindful enough to keep private encounters to an absolute minimum. At school they also kept their interactions cordial and brief. However, that hadn’t kept Kenya from detecting the indubitable chemistry between them.
Now as Chey prepared to walk into her Tuesday afternoon class with Kenya, she braced herself for her professor’s increasingly abrasive behavior. At first, Kenya had simply watched her closely. Chey would be engrossed in a classroom assignment and sense Kenya’s eyes on her. However, Kenya had recently graduated from simply staring to speaking to her in a terse manner that she didn’t use with the other students.
Today was much like the others. Chey walked in and addressed everyone cordially and made only fleeting eye contact with Kenya as she found her way to her seat. She felt Kenya’s gaze on her. Ignoring her scrutiny, Chey pulled out her iPad and kept her eyes glued to the screen.
As students continued to filter in, she checked her email. She saw that she had received one from the hiring manager from the interview that she had gone on a few weeks back. Eagerly, she opened the email and scanned the contents quickly. The rejection soiled her mood. They had chosen another candidate. Chey huffed and laid her iPad on the desk with the screen facing down. She needed that job. She’d been practicing financial austerity, but now that she’d had a taste of what New York really had to offer, she wanted to indulge more.
Feeling a little defeated, Chey lifted her head and met Kenya’s dissecting glare. Resisting the urge to roll her eyes, she challenged Kenya by not looking away. The two locked eyes until, finally, Kenya turned and addressed the students. Class ensued without any further optical showdowns, but as Chey tried to make a quick, subtle exit, she heard Kenya call her name. Chey wanted to keep walking, acting as if she hadn’t heard her.
“I need to speak with you, Ms. Rodgers.”
What does she want? Had Chey kept walking, it would have been obvious that she was ignoring Kenya. Halting, she forced a smile, turned slowly and strode to Kenya’s desk.
“What would you like to speak with me about, Professor Davis?”
“Just one moment, please.” Kenya’s eyes were on the stragglers taking their time to leave the classroom. Making eye contact, Kenya nodded and smiled, her polite way of telling them to keep it moving. When the room was clear, she turned back toward Chey and her fake smile faded.
“Ms. Rodgers. There’s something I’m a little concerned about.”
“But I’ve been doing well. My test grades—”
Kenya held her hand up, interrupting Chey. “It has nothing to do with your class work. That’s been fine.”
Chey inclined her head sideways. “Then what is it?” she inquired, baffled.
Kenya sat down and motioned for Chey to take the seat right beside her desk. “It’s about Professor Barrington.”
Chey reared her head back and tapered her eyes slightly. “What about Professor Barrington?”
Kenya cleared her throat. “Apparently, you knew Mr. Barrington before. Am I correct?”
“Yes...why?” And why is it any of your business? Chey wondered.
“It appears that the two of you are rather...cozy with one another. While I don’t have a problem with it, the school does.” Chey’s heart paused. “You see, Mr. Barrington has a lot on the line. The administration and the board are watching him very closely. He’s being considered for a permanent position here at the school, as well as a potential spot on the board. Your...friendship—” Kenya said the word as if it tasted bad “—with the professor has the potential to jeopardize an opportunity that Mr. Barrington has worked so hard to acquire. If you’re truly his...friend, I would strongly suggest you keep your distance. I’m sure you wouldn’t want to stand in the way of him getting something that he has worked so hard for, right? He’s my friend, too, and I’d hate for your exchanges with him to be misconstrued. You do understand what I’m saying, don’t you? Besides—” Kenya looked Chey over as if she was assessing her “—Hunter is pretty well established and has a rather impressive pedigree. Don’t you think he’s a little—” Kenya tilted her head “—out of your league?”
It took the collective effort of Chey’s will and every muscle in her body to keep from shaking in front of Kenya. A ball of angry heat had become inflamed inside her core. She wanted to ask Kenya who she thought she was, but she, too, had a lot on the line. However, despite how upset Kenya’s words had made her, she had to comply. Hunter had
proved to truly be a great friend and she wouldn’t be able to live with herself if she was responsible for ruining such a desired opportunity for him. She also knew that the unmistakable chemistry between them was evident. Chey had no choice but to check her emotions and put distance between her and Hunter.
“Sure. I understand.” Chey rose instinctively, ready to be done with this conversation and out of Kenya’s sight.
Kenya called her as she reached the door. “Ms. Rodgers.”
“Yes, Professor Davis?” Her tone was professional, clipped. She held her head up, despite feeling as if she wanted to scream.
“Do me a favor and keep this conversation between you and me. I wouldn’t want Hunter...I mean Professor Barrington...to worry about the administration and board’s scrutiny. He’s already dealing with enough pressure.”
“Sure.” Chey flashed a smile that failed to reach her eyes. Turning, she made a quick exit and continued walking at that same brisk pace until she reached a small coffee shop just beyond the campus’s borders. Chey hadn’t closed her coat, yet didn’t feel the blistering cool air during her traipse across the grounds.
Finding an available chair, Chey dropped her bag and stood on the winding line to order a latte. Still wound up from Kenya’s talk, she opted for a tea instead. She took her cup and settled into the comfortable cushions of the chair that she’d reserved. Contemplating the conversation, Chey considered her options. No matter what, the best thing would be to leave Hunter alone.
With one month of classes behind her, she had only two and a half months to go and she would be graduating with her bachelor’s degree. Passing with impressive grades meant a lot to her. She would focus on finding that second job and studying and preparing for her commencement activities.
When her break was almost over, Chey threw her empty cup in the garbage, grabbed her bags and headed back to campus. She’d started the day looking forward to seeing Hunter. Now she hoped that for some reason, he’d be absent today.