What Happens to Men When They Move to Manhattan

by Jill Knapp

  “Hello there, Bryce. My name is Cassandra de Luca and I work for Prestige magazine,” she said proudly, although it was clear he had never heard of the publication.

  Cassandra had just been promoted from intern to publications assistant. I still wasn’t entirely sure what her job entailed. “Um hi, I’m Amalia Hastings,” I uttered, giving a little wave to Cassandra and Bryce, who appeared to be in a staring contest at this point.

  “I’m studying Biology and Behavioral Sciences at NYU; decided to go for my Master’s,” I continued, but it was no use, the attention was clearly not on me.

  I checked my watch again, nine-thirty. If I left now, I might actually be able to get a good night’s sleep. I decided to let Cassandra and Bryce talk and call it a night.

  “Okay Cassie, have a good night,” I called to her and grabbed my purse. “Nice meeting you, Bryce.”

  “Yeah, sure. Goodnight,” she mumbled, seemingly mesmerized by her new crush.

  I laughed to myself and then made my way to the door. The cool, crisp fall air felt great when I got outside. It was refreshing after coming out of the stuffy, crowded bar. I smiled and thought about how lucky I was to be living in this city. I started to make my way down Barrow Street when I heard something. It sounded like a twig snapping. The type of sound you hear in a horror movie just before the damsel in distress gets stabbed.

  “Amalia?” a voice called. My heart started pounding faster, and this time I couldn’t blame it on illness.

  “Yes?” I called out. The figure came closer to me and was now in focus. He stood there, smiling and I felt a little dizzy. I took a deep breath and finally spoke, “Hi, Michael.”

  Chapter 4

  I’m all yours

  “Thank God you cooked!” I clapped as I walked into Nicholas’s studio apartment.

  His place was dimly lit, all of the lights were off except for the overhead light in the kitchen.

  “Oh, were you hungry? I think I may have some leftovers in the fridge,” Nicholas replied jokingly, wryly smiling.

  I dropped my purse onto the bed and kicked off my new ballet flats I had just picked up at Necessary Clothing. My bare feet hit the cold hardwood floor, but it felt good after the nine-block walk. I walked over to Nicholas and kissed him hello.

  “Ha! You are hilarious,” I smiled. “Thanks for agreeing to eat dinner at five like a senior citizen. I wanted to make sure I got to see you today and my class is going to end late tonight.”

  “Honey, of course! Besides if I didn’t cook for you, you’d most likely die of malnutrition. After all, one cannot survive on pasta and whiskey alone. Why do most of your classes start so late anyway?” he asked for what felt like the hundredth time.

  I was waiting for him to become irritated with my always having to run off to class or to the library, but he never did. Nick was the perfect boyfriend; patient, understanding, and insanely cute. I watched him cooking for me and I think I fell a little more in love with him.

  “Um, I assume it’s because most people work until about five or so; so they schedule most graduate level classes at six-thirty or seven,” I replied, stroking his hair.

  I motioned to him for a hug and placed my head on his chest; my head fit perfectly under his chin, making me feel safe.

  “And I don’t only survive on pasta and whiskey,” I insisted. “There’s also scotch and dark chocolate to consider.”

  He gave me a wink and a quick kiss on the forehead. I crossed over to the fridge and grabbed myself a bottle of water, suddenly feeling warm.

  “So, how did last night go?” he asked, catching me off guard.

  “It went fine.” I answered quickly. “Cassandra met a guy named Bryce something and I started to feel like a third wheel, so I just headed home early.”

  I felt guilty for lying and couldn’t look at him as I answered. I turned to walk out of the kitchen when he grabbed my arm and passionately pulled me towards him, my face less than an inch from his.

  “You’re burning,” I whispered, before he could kiss me.

  “What?” he asked, genuinely confused.

  I sheepishly replied, “The chicken, it’s burning.”

  I bit my bottom lip and looked up at Nick. After all of this time I was still intensely attracted to him. Whenever I caught a glimpse of those big, gorgeous eyes, I could feel myself melt a little.

  Nicholas twisted the knob on the stove, turning off the flame. I let out a small laugh and realized I probably wasn’t going to be eating dinner tonight. Then without saying another word he lifted me up and carried me onto the bed. Carefully placing me down, he began removing my clothes while kissing me tenderly. His mouth enveloping mine, sending goosebumps down my back. He quickly peeled off his shirt and jeans, and threw them on the floor. He then stopped and began to look me up and down, admiring every inch of my body. I thought about how lucky I was to have a boyfriend who was so into me, and how I never had to be self-conscious around him. He placed his hand under my chin and looked deeply into my eyes. I felt a surreal moment of tranquility and said, “Take me, I’m all yours.” He began kissing my neck, and then my stomach, and then came back up to my lips.

  “Dinner’s getting cold,” I said jokingly.

  “The microwave works,” he said seductively smiling back at me. “We can reheat it.”

  I never did make it to class that night. Instead, Nicholas and I finally got around to eating dinner after an amazing hour in bed, opened a bottle of Merlot, and then re-watched our favorite movie, Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas, for what had to be the twentieth time. I glanced at the clock; it was a little past midnight. Nick and I had gone to bed about forty minutes ago and he had quickly slipped into a blissful coma-like state. I on the other hand, was wide awake. I felt an overabundance of guilt as I looked over at Nick, because for the past half hour all I could think about was Michael. More specifically, the run-in he and I had last night as I was leaving Oliver’s Tavern. I turned on my back and replayed last night’s scene in my mind.

  “Heading home?” Michael had asked. As soon as he spoke I felt a shiver of excitement rush through my body.

  “Yeah. I’m beat,” I answered, trying to sound as casual as possible.

  I felt the need to keep the conversation going, but a cold gust of air hit my face and made it impossible to think of something charming to say. I glanced down the street behind Michael and I noticed a young couple walking by. Their arms were linked as they made their way into a subway entrance. I wondered if they were in a relationship, or merely a second date.

  “So, um. What are you doing in this neighborhood, alone?”

  I knew Michael lived in midtown, East 60th street; not exactly close by.

  “I just left a friend’s apartment, they live nearby. I needed to walk for a bit and clear my head.”

  I felt a sense of worry and intrigue, as if he wasn’t telling me something important, his usual composed and refined disposition seemed a little shaky.

  “Are you alright? I mean, do you want some company?” I asked as I reached out to touch his arm.

  “I was just going to head back to my apartment, why don’t you come over for a drink and you can tell me what’s bothering you?”

  Shit! What was I doing inviting him back to my apartment, at night? I couldn’t stop myself, though; it was as if my mind had no control over my speech. I was suddenly eager to help Michael in any way I could, and apparently that meant inviting him back to my apartment.

  “I—” he started. Then he paused for a minute, and I silently braced myself for rejection. “Amalia, I would love to come in for a drink. I could really use someone to talk to.”

  “Great!” I said, a little too eagerly. “I mean, that’s cool. Let’s get going.” I tried to sound more composed, motioning toward the crosswalk.

  He smiled and moved a bit closer to me. I immediately went weak at the knees. In all of my anxiety, I hadn’t noticed how great he looked until right now. Michael always dressed well but for some reaso
n I took extra notice of his fitted black button-down shirt, dark denim jeans free of distress of any kind, and loafers to pull the look together. I realized I was still staring at him when he pulled me in for a hug.

  “Thank you, Amalia. You’re a great friend,” he whispered.

  I felt strong sense of disappointment and a little foolish as he let go of me. A friend? A buddy? Is that all Michael thought of me as? More importantly, why did I care so much?

  Chapter 5

  Olivia

  “Oh my gosh how many times do I have to say this to you? Nothing happened!” I said for what had to be the third time in five minutes. Olivia and I had decided to grab a drink at Fat Black Pussy Cat after class that evening, and Cassandra insisted on coming along. Michael and Alex also jumped on the idea to drink away Dr. Van der Stein’s lecture on organic chemistry, and were meeting us soon. “Non capisco! I just don’t understand you!” Cassandra threw her arms up and shook her head at me, her chandelier earrings bouncing from side to side.

  “Woah, was that English?” Olivia said with a huge smile on her face, obviously entertained by Cassandra’s latest outburst.

  “Please don’t encourage her, Olivia,” I buried my face in my hands.

  “You have this good-looking guy, alone in your apartment,” Cassandra continued to berate me, ignoring Olivia’s question. But before she could finish, I interrupted.

  I held up my right hand. “Christina was home, we were not alone,” I said declaratively, as if that was some sort of justification for my lie.

  “Oh really? Was she in the living room with the two of you? Or was she once again cooped up in her bedroom reading some obscure novel and being completely antisocial?” Cassandra cocked her head to the side and raised an eyebrow.

  “Jeeze!” I shook my head.” First you attack me, now Christina?”

  Olivia just sat there in silent bewilderment, her light-brown eyes as wide as possible. She had met Cassie several times before but was still confused by her boisterous demeanor. Olivia was the polar opposite of Cassandra and I. Being that we were both from Staten Island, Cassie and I prided ourselves on being loud, outspoken, and at times bitchy. Olivia on the other hand was from Providence, Rhode Island. Having only moved to New York four months ago, she was still quiet, polite, very shy, and free of any New York City-style dialect. She had attended college at the University of Florida. No city experience what-so-ever. Olivia had “newcomer writer” all over her. The only unpolished thing she did was smoke Newports. I found it to be very uncharacteristic of her, but it did give her a little bit of an edge. However, despite their differences, the two got along famously, as if they balanced each other out.

  “Dire! Just answer the question!” Cassie demanded, her hazel eyes flashing.

  Being that her grandparents were right off the boat from Italy, they demanded she learn to speak Italian and this she bestowed upon us when she was excited.

  “Were you, or were you not, alone with him?”

  I felt defeated.

  “I was, alright, but nothing happened!” I said for now the fifth time. “Also, can we stick to English tonight?”

  Cassandra smiled triumphantly.

  Through all of my annoyance, I felt a smile tug at the sides of my lips.

  “I’m going to slap you,” I said jokingly.

  Olivia shook her head at the two of us, a wide grin decorating her face.

  “I’m going to record the two of you and upload it when you aren’t looking,” she said laughing at us.

  She reached into her gorgeous Michael Kors purse and pulled out her cell.

  “Oh hey guys, it’s actually almost nine thirty. Michael and Alex are going to be here any minute, so maybe it would be a good idea to cap this conversation until tomorrow?” she asked.

  “You know what?” I leaned forward. “No need to, ladies, because I am done pretending. Cassandra, you were right all along. We did it, Michael and me. We had hot, dirty sex right on my Ikea couch all while Christina was in the next room. It was amazing. I mean, it was the kind of sex you could only have when you’ve been stuck screwing the same person for years, boy did I let go of my inhibitions. Phew! Feels so good to get that off my chest!” I slammed my right hand down on the table, hoping this would finally shut Cassie up.

  Olivia burst out laughing and then raised her glass of wine to toast me. Thinking I had finally silenced her, I shot Cassandra a look.

  Cassandra gave me a blank, unamused stare, and flipped her hair back. “Fine, but Amalia, this conversation is not over. I’m heading to the ladies.”

  She dramatically pushed her chair in and marched to the ladies’ room.

  “C’mon! Champagne for everyone! Don’t you want to know if he wears boxers or briefs?” I shouted to her as she walked away.

  Her three-inch heels clacked loudly on the bar’s old wooden floors. Every man at the bar turned to watch Cassie walk. Having come straight from her office, she was wearing dark-gray dress pants, patent-leather pumps, a bright-red button-down top, and oversized chandelier earrings. I had to hand it to the girl, she looked great. Suddenly feeling self-conscious about my own outfit, a dark-brown dress paired with gray blazer and a jeweled headband, I turned to Olivia. She was wearing a lime-green cardigan with a white camisole underneath, a knee-length black pleated skirt, and understated basic black flats. Her mousy brown hair was pulled back into a plain pony tail, minimal jewelry, and from what I could tell no make-up other than clear lip gloss. I couldn’t help but wonder if she felt underdressed. Before I could complete the thought, I suddenly felt two hands on my shoulder, causing me to nearly jump out of my seat. I quickly turned around to see who it was.

  “I always say it, Hastings, you’re too highly strung,” Alex said, holding on to me tightly.

  “Maybe it’s because of the lack of personal space I have in this bar,” I countered, as he continued to hold onto my shoulders.

  I brushed him off, and wondered why Michael was friends with him. He and Michael had appeared out of nowhere wearing what appeared to be matching outfits. They both had on dark denim jeans, loafers, and button-down shirts with fitted v-neck sweaters over them, allowing the pattern of the shirt collar and cuffs to show. I pretended to be disgusted and dust off my shoulders.

  “Hey you two,” said Michael, pulling an empty bar stool from a neighboring table.

  “So how ridiculous was Dr. Van Der’s class today?”

  “Oh no!” Cassandra said as she strutted back to her seat. “If you’re going to talk about class, I’m out of here!”

  Cassandra was the only one at the table who did not currently take classes at NYU.

  “Who are you?” she said to Alex.

  “Hey, I’m Alex”, he said, holding his hand out, seemingly unfazed by her sharp question. “You must be Cassandra.”

  “Another hand-shaker, eh?” she said sarcastically.

  I kicked her under the table and shot her a look of warning. Her iPhone started to vibrate, shaking the entire table.

  “It’s Bryce,” she explained.

  A smile crept across her face, and something made me think it was a booty call.

  “The yuppie from Oliver’s?” I grimaced; a little disappointed she was seeing him again.

  “That’s the one,” she answered without looking up from her phone. “I forgot I was supposed to be meeting him. I have to run. Boys, always a pleasure. Arrivederci.”

  “Goodnight,” we all said in unison.

  “Who’s Bryce again?” asked Olivia.

  “Ugh, you don’t want to know,” I shook my head.

  The bar was starting to clear out, thankfully. In New York City, no one was ever home. Most of the population inhabited bars or boutique coffee shops instead of ever returning to their respective homes. I couldn’t decide if it was the size of their apartments that kept them away, or the constant need to feel “busy.”

  I caught Michael’s eye and for a second I forgot anyone else was with us. He smiled at me and the incr
easingly familiar rush of heat started to creep up on me.

  “So, Amalia,” Alex said, breaking me out of my daze. “I heard you’re going to Panama when school’s over in the spring.”

  “Brazil,” I answered quickly.

  “Same shit,” he shot back.

  “Actually, they’re two completely separate countries,” I answered, annoyed at his ignorance and attitude.

  Alex and I had always had a love-hate relationship, and he was closer with Michael and Olivia than me, but I tolerated him for the sense of the group.

  “Whatever, they speak Spanish there don’t they?” he smiled sarcastically.

  “No. Actually, they speak Portuguese. Seriously dude, get a map,” I mumbled and took a sip of my beer.

  “Brazil! That’s so exciting!” Olivia said, trying to recover the uncomfortable moment.

  Michael looked up at me and said, “I didn’t know you were leaving the country! For how long?”

  “About three months”, I answered. “I’ll be there from the end of May until August. I have a cousin who lives there so I am going to spend some time living with the locals.”

  “Are you going for your job?” he asked.

  “No, nothing like that,” I shrugged. “I’ve just always wanted to go there; it just looks so beautiful. I spent all of last summer working as a receptionist so I could save enough money to buy a plane ticket.”

  “Very ambitious, Amalia. What does your boyfriend have to say about that?” Alex asked, challenging me.

  “Nothing. He feels fine,” I shot back.

  No need to go into details, to explain Nicholas and I had gotten into a small argument that morning over the length of time I was going to be away. Our minor argument was none of Alex’s business, and also I didn’t want Michael to think Nick and I had any problems at all.