by Lindsey Iler
“You. Are. Jealous.” Mark enunciates every word with a shake of his head. “She’s always been beautiful, Graham. You knew it way before you were willing to admit it. Somehow all the shitty things in her life didn’t destroy her but made her bolder. You’re one of those shitty things.”
“How sweet of you.”
Mark instructs me to make several turns before telling me to stop in front of a seedy brick apartment building.
“It’s nice,” I lie.
His shrug is casual, but the worry in his eyes is strong. “I keep telling her they need to move, but this is all they can afford for now.” He grabs his bag from the backseat and offers me a curt wave. “I’ll see you Sunday for brunch. Try not to keep the,” he mocks me with air quotes, “newly hot Kennedy up too late. Bea will hunt you two down if you don’t show. The girl has a thing for brunch.”
I let the hilarious fact Mark is discussing details of brunch slip through the crack. “We’ll be there. Send me the address, but I refuse to wake up before ten, so don’t expect us before then.” Mark slams the door. I roll down my window and shout, “I’m not kidding. We will not be there before ten.”
Mark glares at me through the windshield. “You’ll show up with a smile on your face, because if you don’t, I’ll kick your ass. This is important to Bea, so it’s important to me. Show up with bells and whistles, you got me?” He pats the hood and walks across the street.
Once he’s inside, I drive to The Plaza. The valet takes my keys and hands me my bag from the backseat. My family has stayed here since I was young.
“Mr. Black, how did I not know you were staying?” The middle-aged concierge asks as I pass. “Here’s your key, sir.”
The irony of him calling me sir is not lost on me. I should be used to it. Money makes people do irrational things like calling someone twenty-five years younger than them sir. As I step into the empty elevator, I take the key and offer a thank you. My usual suite has been prepared for my arrival. The minibar is stocked with Dr. Pepper, and a handwritten note states to let them know if I need anything else.
Only the best at The Plaza, I’ve heard my grandmother say a million and one times.
Kennedy’s going to love this place. The perfection of this hotel doesn’t swallow you whole, but it makes you believe in magic, makes the impossible seem possible. They have those two things in common.
New York is a city overpopulated with hopes and dreams. More times than I can count, I’ve pounded the concrete, rushing from class to work then back to class. My bare feet have danced in the grass in Central Park and in the middle of Time Square for my first New Year’s Eve here. I’ve even gone skydiving, but for some strange reason, I’m afraid to walk into this building.
At the same time, the fact he’s up there somewhere, anticipating my arrival, overjoys me. He’s probably pacing around the room, and pulling at his hair because he’s as impatient to see me as I am to see him.
After our amazing weekend reintroducing ourselves, we’ve only spent small blips of our lives on the phone. Calling every day doesn’t equate to too much in the real world, right? What am I even doing? Quit trying to psych yourself out.
The ominous hotel intimidates me so much, I contemplate hailing a cab back to my apartment. Things are finally at a good place with Graham and me. Now would be the time for the world to take another punch at us.
“Ma’am.” A gentle British voice breaks me from my trance. “Are you meeting someone here, or are you just hovering on the stairs to soak up some of these fine peoples’ wealth?” His smile is friendly but leery.
This stout man is the one who holds the golden door for guests in their lavish attire, and here I am, looking like Julia Roberts in Pretty Woman.
I’m the unwelcome hooker.
“I better not,” I whisper and twirl on my toes to walk away. He came all this way. Everything’s going to be okay.
The doorman clears his throat. “Ma’am, you wouldn’t happen to be Ms. Conrad?”
I glance over my shoulder. “I am.” A large lump forms in my throat. “How do you know who I am?”
“There can’t be too many beautiful brunettes with dancer legs walking around New York City.” He winks as if he hadn’t described almost every female within a fifteen-mile radius. His eyes fall to my bare legs with unasked questions about my attire. “He described you to the smallest of details, much like an artist would be to the blind. I could point you out any day by the way he painted your picture for me.”
Tears pool in the corners of my eyes, and I brush them away with the back of my hand. “He did?” A shiver runs through my body from the cold wind sweeping through the New York streets, or maybe from learning Graham’s been speaking of me in such high regard. One small comment from a stranger, and I’m ready to throw away all my insecurities.
“He was right. You are quite enchanting, Ms. Conrad.” He extends his arm, nodding to the hotel. “I’ll walk you up.”
I wrap my arm through his, and he places a comforting hand over mine. He reminds me of everyone’s grandfather. Perfectly sweet with a little bite.
“How well do you know him?” My curiosity gets the best of me. “You act as if you know him well.”
“He’s been coming here his whole life.” He smiles at me. “I’m Bradley, by the way. When Graham was a little tyke, he would run through the halls, disrupting the other guests by knocking on doors and the usual havoc a young boy can come up with. His father whooped him good once. If I didn’t love this job so much, I would have killed that man right in this lobby. Bastard got what he deserved.” The last part is a near whisper, and I murmur my agreement. “Anyway, he’s been coming here more so the past year, whenever he gets the chance, but that’s something you’ll need to ask him about.”
My mouth springs open to ask the million questions his vague statement brings to mind, but I think better of it. “It’s nice to meet you, Bradley,” I say in a soft voice as I take in my surroundings.
The Plaza is featured in so many of my favorite movies, and of course, I’ve walked past plenty of times, but nothing compares to standing within these walls. The tall ceilings and spectacular décor are something to be seen in person. No screen does this place justice.
“Exquisite, isn’t it?” Bradley asks, drawing me back. He points out the architectural differences from this hotel and many others within the city. “Founded in 1907, The Plaza has housed important people throughout history. It’s almost as if they leave behind a little bit of their magic when they checkout.”
“These walls bleed with stories,” I whisper.
“You’re a romantic, Ms. Conrad.” He nods in approval.
“It’s magical.” The beautiful floral displays are unlike anything I’ve ever seen.
As if it’s his first time, Bradley surveys our surroundings. “Wait ‘til you’re here at Christmas time. There’s nothing in the world like it.” His eyes shine with pride as he leads me onto the elevator and presses the number nine.
When the doors open on Graham’s floor, Bradley gestures for me to exit first and holds the door. “Here we go, Ms. Conrad.”
“Please, call me Kennedy.”
“Why would I do such a thing?” Bradley’s eye perks up in mischief. “Unless I can assume I’ll be seeing you again, I’d be more comfortable with Ms. Conrad.”
“I know what you did there, Bradley.”
This old man doesn’t know the first thing about my relationship with Graham, but he looks at me as if he holds all the secrets to our happiness.
“Third door on the right, Ms. Conrad.”
“Leaving so soon?” My eyelashes flutter.
“I think it's best you go on your own. Don’t forget to ask Graham about his stays here.” A devilish grin forms on his lips.
“You really do know him.”
I love how Graham has somehow swayed this sweet man into adoring him. It shows in Bradley’s eyes when he speaks of him. He doesn’t try to hide it, which only reveals his hon
est spirit.
“We’ve exchanged our fair share of stories of love and war.” He shrugs. “Graham’s young, and he’s dumb, much like we all were at some point.”
“Not much of a recommendation for your kind.”
I salute goodbye with two fingers and walk slow, counting the doors. When I reach Graham’s, I freeze. My hand shakes. I lift it to knock but drop it to my side. This dumbass routine continues for several rounds.
Don’t be stupid.
As my clenched fist raps on the door, I abruptly step back when the door swings open.
Graham. Shirtless. He’s fucking shirtless. Bare chest, fully exposed, begging to be touched.
My mind floats to the last time we were together, and I immediately blush. My eyes shoot up to find a sweet smile on his face. I love the way the corner of his eyes scrunches together when his lips pull tight.
He reaches out and tugs me into the room. Before I have a second to take in my surroundings, my back hits the door, and Graham’s lips are all over my neck. His warm breath moves toward my jawline. All I can do is wrap my arms around his shoulders, dig my nails in, and enjoy the ride. Graham’s perfectly formed lips graze mine. A quiver runs through me, and I push forward to kiss him back.
“I’ve missed you,” he whispers between our kiss. His hands skim down my body to rest at the bottom of my t-shirt. His thumb brushes the thin skin below my belly button, and I shudder from the feathery contact.
Our kiss deepens. Before I can take a breath, Graham draws me away from the hard surface and walks me backward to the bed. He rips my coat down my arms, discarding it on the floor. We’re starved for each other. Our lips speak for us as we lower to the bed. The soft sheet tickles the skin on my back where my t-shirt rides up. A loud gasp escapes my lips when his chilled hands run up my bare stomach. His fingertips graze the cup of my bra, and I nibble on his bottom lip.
He rises to his knees in front of me. Through my eyelashes, I stare at him. I know what he sees in my expression. My mouth’s slack and my eyes sparkle with abandoned need. My chest heaves from the oxygen I’ve lost from his frantic kisses. If I died right now, I’ve experienced everything I’ve ever needed.
Without fail, I rub my knees together to ease the tension from looking at his strong body above me. His abdomen retracts and expands with every breath. He’s no longer the boy who asks permission or needs reassurance. Because he knows I want it, too, he takes. I could get used to his bold, intense movements.
How can he do this to me? One look, and I’m acting like a horned-up porn star.
He kisses me sweetly on the tip of my nose and backs off the bed.
“What am I thinking?” His hands tremble as he rubs the back of his neck. “You just got here. We haven’t seen each other in a month, and here I am, mauling you before you even have a chance to look around. I didn’t come here for a booty call, Kennedy.”
“If you’ve seen one hotel, you’ve seen them all. I’d be a little offended if this wasn’t sort of a booty call.” Brushing my hands over my limp body, I grin up at him.
“As much as I appreciate your enthusiasm,” Graham extends a hand to me, “to get in my pants, I’d like to talk for a little while.” He pulls me to my feet, and I let out a loud unappreciative groan.
Over his shoulder, I inspect the suite. The deep gray walls are breathtaking, but the white detailing is what brings the room together. The outside of the hotel and the lobby’s appearance make a person think the rooms would be gold plated with old-timey décor. No, this room is exquisite and modern. Breathtaking.
“Is this where you always stay when you’re in the city?” I ask. Bradley’s words play in the back of my mind. Don’t forget to ask Graham about his stays here. “I met Bradley. He’s a sweet man.” I lounge on the end of the bed. “Seems to be fond of you.”
“He’s nosy, is what he is.” Graham hands me a Dr. Pepper. His favorite.
“How often do you stay here?” I take a long sip of the dark soda. The bubbles from the carbonation tickle my nose.
“Ever … or,” he pauses, pulling out the chair tucked under the writing table, “or this past year? Because if you’re asking me ever, it’s too many to count. My family prefers the luxury of The Plaza over all the perfectly acceptable hotels in New York City.” His forearms rest on his thighs, and he wrings his hands together. Without glancing at me, he says, “If you’re asking me about this year, then I’d ask you how many performances you’ve had. That’s how many times I’ve stayed.”
To distract myself, I bite the inside of my cheek. My mind tells me to throw a true tantrum, like stomp my feet and roll around on the floor, but instead, I ask myself the questions I need the answers to. Why would he come to the city that often? Why wouldn’t he have called? When I come up empty handed, my feet carry me to where I’ll find the clarification I need. With his eyes focused on the ground, I crouch down in front of him to gain his full, undivided attention.
My voice is low and almost frightened when I say, “You came to the city for all of my performances?” That can’t be true. There’s no possible way he’d been there and I’d be completely unaware. He doesn’t answer, but when my hands rest on his thighs, his eyes shift to where I bounce on the balls of my feet. “Graham, answer me.”
“I came to every performance, except one. I missed Grand Central Station. My flight got delayed, and by the time I made it to the city, it was over,” Graham explains.
“Why?” I shake my head.
“Why what, Kennedy?” He stands, giving me no option but to back away when he pushes forward.
“Why come all that way to watch me perform, but not tell me you were here?”
He shakes his head. For him, the answer’s obvious, but I’m not so lucky. “It’s the same reason why I backed away from you after Craig’s attack and did a piss-poor job to keep my distance Senior year.” He turns to face me, the honey in his eyes molten. “On the outside, I appear to be this guy who’s complete. I come from money. I’m athletic. The world is at my fingertips, right? I know that’s what everyone thinks when they look at me, even back in high school. But in reality, I was a mess. I am a mess. Why on earth would I think I could be enough for someone like you? I’d just bring you down. For that simple reason, I gave you away. There isn’t a day I don’t regret the time we’ve lost, but there isn’t a day that I’m not thankful for it either. The time apart wasn’t just for you, Ken. The time apart was for me, too.”
“That doesn’t explain why you came to my performances.”
“The first time I saw you dance I fell in love with you. My mind didn’t register it, but my heart was on board from the second you stepped onto the stage wearing those damn black leggings and sequin tank top.” His recollection makes my heart do a weird flutter. “Kennedy, there’s nothing like you performing. Even if we never found our way back here,” he ghosts a hand between us, “to this place, I’d find a way to watch you dance until the day I died, even if it broke my heart every time.”
My arms lay limp at my sides. If Graham’s willing to expose himself, then I have to be, too. In the past, self-preservation would have fueled me to wipe away the tears, but not today. His fingers twitch to dry them. His head tilts to the side, mirroring my inspection of him. Our chests heave as we try to control our erratic breathing.
“You’ve always loved me,” I whisper. “Even when I didn’t deserve it.”
He shrugs, as if the idea of him holding on when I was desperate to let him go, isn’t a big deal. When in reality, our reality, it is. My willingness to let the world consume me could have led to our destruction.
“Thank you for giving up Georgia for me,” I say. Hands down, this is the most selfish I will ever feel. “If you hadn’t, I might never have gotten the strength to come back to you.” My hand rests on his chest, keeping rhythm with the rise and fall from his deep breaths.
“None of it –the scholarship, the dreams– none of it is worth having if you aren’t by my side to have them wit
h me.”
“But it’s what you always wanted.” As happy as I am for his transfer to UConn, I’m scared he’ll resent giving up his dream for me.
He kisses my forehead. “It’s what I always thought I wanted. Dreams change, Kennedy.”
I melt into the boy who stole my heart a long time ago.
“Do you want to rent a movie or something? Or are you hungry? We can call up room service,” Graham suggests.
“Can we do all of it?” The idea of getting into pajamas is wonderful. “Shit.”
“What’s wrong?”
“I don’t have clothes. I wasn’t expecting a fancy night in a hotel with you.”
“Text Violet and have her gather some things for you. Bradley’ll go pick it up.”
“I’m not making Bradley go get my underwear.”
“Don’t pack any, then.” Graham laughs, picking the phone up from the stand, an inviting grin on his face. “Not like you’ll be needing them anyway.”
The grin practically singes my panties right off. My center softens, and a pool forms between my legs. “I’ll text Violet.” I pull out my phone, giving her specific instruction.
“I owe you big time,” Graham addresses Bradley. “Yes. No. Yes. Cut it out. You’re a real pain in my ass, you know that?” He pushes the end button and places the cordless on the stand.
“One good thing has come from our time apart.” I move in front of him, and he runs the pad of his thumb over my bottom lip.
My stomach flutters. “Oh, and what’s that?” I whisper, my voice full of desire and need.
“You’re tightly wound, Ken, and I can’t wait for you to unravel.”
At his words, my tongue slips out, barely grazing his thumb. His pants tent. I’ve always been aware of my ability to rile Graham up, but this is not the same. Sex when you're a teenager, compared to when you're in your twenties, is different in many incredible ways. I’ve come into my own, and I’m not ashamed of my need for Graham with his hazy eyes and lust on his tongue.
My hand wraps around his neck, and I yank him flush against my body, closing the divide between us. Our lips collide. His tongue slides along the seam of my mouth, and I’m more than happy to open for him. We sweep and dance until we fall to the bed again. Maybe this need is our bodies making up for lost moments.