“You okay down there?” I asked him.
“Sure am,” he called back haughtily.
I knew, in that moment that this had all been a test; he hadn’t really thought I would go through with it. He thought that I was going to panic, run away. That way, I could be made to look a fool; he would be rid of me. He would get the best of me.
But I was climbing the ladder, one rung at a time. And I felt the excitement bubbling in me. “Don’t be too slow, Drew!” I called to him.
He huffed below.
Finally, we reached the top. I grabbed at the side rail, peering around us. Just as the woman had said, the fall trees were truly beautiful. I saw hints of orange, of red, of yellow all throughout. And to the east, I could see the bright, expansive lake and the beautiful, Windy City; my Chicago. My heart ached for it; the marriage of nature and city.
I turned my head up, toward Drew, and watched as his eyes turned sour and his face closed. He was fearful of the edge.
“Who wants to go first?” the man asked us. He was chewing gum, and his accent was southern, nearly foreign.
“We can go together, correct?” I asked him blinking slowly.
The man thought for a moment. “We have a double set-up, yea-up,” he said. He smacked his gum.
“Great!”
Drew swallowed slowly. I could hear it.
The man helped us latch ourselves into the bungee suits. He attached the bungee cord to us tightly, utilizing the metal clasp. He tugged at it from behind, making sure that it was soundly latched. We jerked back with it, nearly falling to our deaths below.
“Hey, hey. Easy there,” Drew murmured.
“All right, city folks,” the man said. “You can go ahead up there and ease forward and jump together. We usually hold hands when we do it. Easier to stay in line that way.”
I looked up at Drew, this man who hadn’t ACTUALLY thought he was going to go bungee jumping that day. “You look good in that bungee suit,” I whispered to him. I grabbed his hand.
He looked down at me, at my body, at my breasts. I could tell he wanted me, that I was his, truly, in that moment. He reached toward me, without Cubs cameras watching, without people noticing, and kissed me soundly. Our eyes met together as he took his lips away, licking them lightly.
We took the step up to the edge and looked down. We were about seventy feet in the air, seven or eight stories. We were higher than my apartment building; we were as high as that hotel room had been the previous week. I tried to imagine what it would feel like, tossing myself to this wind.
“Remember. We ain’t got all day,” the man called to us. The wind had started to pick up.
I inched forward once more, tugging Drew with me. He was grinning, his wolf teeth out, his hair raveling through the wind. “You’re an adventurous girl,” he called to me.
“I know.”
“If we die here today, what will happen?”
“I assume the world will continue turning!” I called back.
He laughed at this. “I think I like you, Molly Atwood!” I could hardly hear his voice through the wind.
My heart surged into my throat as we took our leap into the bungee jump. We free-fell through the air, our hands clasped together between us and our free hands out, like we were flying. We fell fast through the air, not feeling the rope tug at our behinds until we were just twenty feet from the ground. I emitted a slow scream as we neared the rocks below; closer and closer and closer.
But the sheer adrenaline pulsed in my brain and in my ears. I watched as the beautiful trees greeted us on both sides, as the crispness of the air lurched into my throat, into my stomach. When we began to swing at the very bottom of the great leap, I started laughing haphazardly. My hand still remained in Drew’s.
I turned toward him and saw his ashen face, his strong smile. He shook his head at me, as if he had never experienced anything so grand. “What the hell,” he yelled out. “What the hell!”
The man and his overall wife eased us down to the ground, where we unlatched ourselves from the bungee cord. We grabbed each other close and started kissing, as if we had avoided sure death. I was thinking that the man and the wife still on the platform surely saw this all the time; the assurance of two people that they had avoided sure death. I wondered if it ever got old.
I flashed a pretty, confident smile at this man before me. I wrapped my slim arms behind his back and kissed his broad, brilliant lips. “What do you think of that?” I whispered.
“I can’t think of it. All I can think of is you.” Drew murmured back.
We piled back into the van behind the husband and wife duo. We breathed heavily the entire way back to the parked Porsche. “Has anything ever gone wrong?” Drew asked the two owners.
The man spoke gruffly, utilizing vague words. “Oh, you know. We have this happen, that happen.”
My eyes fluttered along with Drew’s as we grinned together in the secret discovery; we had survived something truly grand together.
Finally, back in the Porsche, I curled up in the front seat, feeling confident. I asked Drew as many questions as I could think of in those moments. “You really haven’t been bungee jumping have you?”
“Well—I mean. No. I haven’t,” he declared, grinning at me.
“Why did you want to go so badly today?” I asked him.
“You know. I just wanted to push myself, push you. See what you would do. I know you’re angry with me about—about everything you heard me say. But you have to understand; guys say dumb shit all the time.” He held his hands high on the steering wheel. I longed to curl up with him, to talk to him about everything and anything. What had his life been like before he met me, really? Why was he attracted to me—a lifeless nobody—anyway?
“Well. It was one of the best days of my life,” I murmured to him. I was surprised that I let him know so much of myself in that moment, but some small part of me didn’t care. I shrugged, knowing in my heart that this fake relationship, that this lovely life that had sprung from nowhere, was not to last. Not at all. And so I decided to be honest, to be truthful. What did I have to lose?
Although, it was true these days that I didn’t have a job to my name, that I didn’t have an ounce of savings. These things were not to be helped.
We stopped for brief burgers on the way back to the city. “Best I’ve ever had, hands down,” Drew said to me, his eyebrows high on his forehead. “Seriously.”
He swooshed through the drive-thru, told the man on the other line his name. “Hey, man. It’s Drew. Can I have two of the regular?”
And the regular came to him as we rushed around to the window. The thirty-something guy who manned the grill came toward him in the window and brought his hand forward, high-fiving Drew as if they were old buds. “Drew, my man,” he said in a pure Chicago accent. “We got you two of the regular, and I threw in some extra fries. For you and the lady.” He leaned down and looked at me, grinning. “Hey, ma’am. I’m Ty.”
“Good to meet you,” I said, mustering as much sweetness as I could. The inside of the restaurant was pulsing with grease and an old-fashioned 50’s burger joint attitude. I smiled as Drew handed me the dripping bag.
“Ty, it’s always a pleasure,” Drew said. He handed him a one hundred dollar bill and nodded at him. “I’ll see you next week.”
“Looking forward to it, Drew,” Ty said, stepping back and placing the hundred in his white breast pocket. He waved his hand toward us as we sped away.
I felt the grease dripping on my leg. “What is this?” I asked Drew.
Drew reached his hand in the top and pulled out a wrapped burger. “That, my dear, is the greasiest most delicious restaurant in all of Chicago—or perhaps all the world. That man, Ty, was my next-door neighbor when I grew up a poor Chicago boy. We did everything together. And now—well. He owns a burger joint. And god, they’re delicious. Just try.” He unfolded the side of the burger and gave me a hint of it. I bit, feeling the wonderful texture of perfectly-sp
iced, perfectly-cooked burger emanate in my mouth. A small bit of Dijon mustard coursed through my taste buds.
“Oh, god,” I murmured. I hadn’t tasted anything so brilliant in my life.
“Right? I know. Anyway, I try to give him good business. He’s in a bad part of town. I want to bring him in with us, in Wicker Park. But I don’t know if my stomach will hold up, eating this stuff every day. You tried a fry yet?”
And so we feasted together, there in his beautiful, sparkly-clean Porsche. I remembered how my mother had never wanted me to eat in her minivan. And here we were, enjoying some of the greasiest food the world over. I shook my head at Drew as he changed lanes, spinning us back to our illustrious Wicker Park.
We arrived outside the apartment building, stuffing our trash back in the damp, greased bag. I shook my head, licking my fingers. “You know. Nothing makes you hungrier than thinking you’re about to die,” I said to him.
Drew tossed his head back, padding his napkin across his mouth. “I’d say that’s infinitely true. We were in the wake of death up there on that platform, and now we’re in the wake of death eating too much cholesterol.” He shrugged. “You win some; you lose some.”
I laughed in the darkness outside of the apartment building. I looked up at my balcony, thinking only of the drabness of my apartment, of all the Netflix waiting for me in my bedroom. And yet; the light, the passion behind Drew’s eyes kept me outside, lurking. What was I waiting for?
Our eyes met. Drew brought his face forward and clasped his lips against mine, there in front of the building. I closed my eyes, even as swarms of people passed us, even as the cars of the great Chicago city honked and jabbed at each other. He slipped his tongue into my mouth, sliding it past my own, sending shivers down my spine. He was, remarkably, the most wonderful kisser I had ever known. I felt so horny; my pussy was damp in my tight, slim-fitting black pants. I longed to pull him on top of me, to have him fuck me.
But I couldn’t.
He pulled away, sensing a change in me. He paused. “Do you want to head up to my apartment? Marty’s not there this evening. And I have really good whiskey. The best whiskey.” He looked at me hopefully. His eyes screamed at me, forcing me to remember the expert skill of his sexuality, the way he had fucked me there against that window all those days before.
But my mind raced. “I—I can’t,” I murmured. I backed away, running my fingers through my hair. I was certain this was it, in that moment. If I didn’t go up with him, if I didn’t allow him to take me home, then it was over. I would no longer be a notch in his belt. I could be free of this strange, sexual, “love game” that he so often played. Instead, I could focus on bettering my own life.
I continued; “I have to wake up early tomorrow. I have a huge job interview on Monday morning, and I need to prepare all day.” I raised my eyebrows at him, as if to say I didn’t care at all; as if to say it was his loss.
I expected him to stomp away, to accept his loss. But his eyes looked large, hopeful. “I understand,” he murmured. He put his hand on my waist. “But I have to see you again.”
I wanted to rush away. What was this guy’s plan? Wasn’t he going to move onto the next notch, the next woman? Wouldn’t I hear him talking about some other bimbo on the balcony in just a few days, when memory of this truly spectacular day together had faded in his ever-seeking mind?
But he looked at me hopefully. “You can choose the place this time,” he said. He moved his fingers along my trim figure. “We don’t have to do any extreme sports or even eat any—burgers. If you don’t want.”
I laughed for a moment in spite of myself. I bit my lip. My heart was racing. “You know. I have to ask you something, Drew. Why are you so interested in me, in dating me?” I swallowed, allowing the understanding of who I truly was to come rushing back to me. I was a poor, lifeless sap. I had nothing to give, nothing to offer. “If you really knew who I was, you wouldn’t want anything to do with me. Trust me.” I allowed my neck to drape down. My chin met my chest.
But Drew didn’t respond to this. “I want to know who you are,” he murmured. “I want to know everything about you. Why don’t we just go on another date, and you can tell me everything?” He took a step closer to me and peered deeply into my eyes. “That way, I can decide on my own. Don’t you think that’s fair?”
I felt his breath, hot on my neck as he kissed me there, moving up toward my ear. I felt my breasts pulse into his chest. I wanted him. I wanted him inside me. I closed my eyes. “One more date. Okay,” I murmured. Our eyes met once more in the darkness. I heard a catcall across the street; someone was watching this moment between us.
I started toward the door, confused why Drew wasn’t following me. “Don’t you live here, too?” I called back.
He smiled, nodding. He gestured with his head. “I have to take the Porsche back to the garage. She’s no good out here on the street by herself. I’ll see you tomorrow? Your choice?”
I nodded, feeling a bit let down. I longed to feel his arms around me again. “Yes, of course,” I murmured. I turned back toward the apartment building and placed my key in the lock, feeling his eyes on me as I entered. I sauntered up the steps, down the familiar hallway, and into the tiny, grey apartment I shared with Boomer.
There, I collapsed on the couch and brought my hands to my face, to my breasts. I didn’t realize that I was breathing so heavily, that the passion from the previous day’s events had nearly brought me to my knees. I lay there, daydreaming for many hours before finally falling into a deep, dreamless sleep.
CHAPTER FOUR
The next morning, I woke with a renewed sense of hope—and a cat strewn over my belly. I had slept on the couch, and the late September morning sunlight was coursing in through the window. I grinned, picking my cat up and holding him in my arms.
The evening before had been everything. It had pushed the limits beyond what I thought a date could be. I had felt his arms around me; I had felt his fear as we leapt into the air. And, I had felt his care for me as he had asked me for another date.
The previous week, I had earnestly thought everything was lost. But on this day, it seemed that everything was different. I peered into the sunlit streets of my Windy City, and made a decision not to give up—not yet. I wanted to be a dance instructor. I wanted to continue helping all girls, from young to old, learn the brilliance, the passion of dance. And I could do that anywhere. Preferably in a cheaper studio, somewhere in Wicker Park.
So on this Sunday morning, I made the decision to go out into the world and search. I grabbed my fall boots, my cute autumn hat, and bundled up for serious walking. I fed little Boomer enough kernels for the day and fled into the street, thoughts of coffee and bagels on my mind.
I grinned at everyone I passed, fresh with the knowledge that I could succeed, I could do whatever I wanted to do. I peered in windows of FOR RENT buildings; I rushed across streets, in front of cars, just to check out prospective places. I felt my heart beating fast in my chest. The possibilities were limitless.
Sometime in the middle of the day, I stopped at a coffee and bagel shop. Exhausted, I pulled off my gloves, my hat, and ate my bagel ravenously. I had chosen a pumpkin cream cheese that oozed delightfully in my mouth over the warm, pumpernickel bagel. I closed my eyes, thinking that nothing could be better than working your way up from sadness, from the desolate week before.
Nothing.
As I scouted through Wicker Park and the surrounding neighborhoods, I made a large list of addresses and phone numbers. At around two in the afternoon, I finally collapsed back at my grey apartment, a cup of tea in my hand, and the list before me. I was going to call everyone and discover if the places were in my price range. The sooner the better, I thought. This way, I wouldn’t give my students time to find a place somewhere else, with another teacher. They loved me, I knew. And I loved them.
The first few places I called didn’t fill me with an ounce of hope. Some places had much higher rent than the place
I had just lost, and I knew I couldn’t wrangle even the safety deposit. Many required credit reports—which I didn’t have. After about six phone calls, I heard Boomer meowing at the window, and I put my head down at the table, feeling dejected. I knew I couldn’t give up after just a few hours. But already, this task was feeling like a bigger feat than I could presently deal with.
My phone buzzed in my pocket. I pulled it out to find a message from Drew. “Have you decided what you’d like to do for our date tonight?”
My heart started beating hard in my chest. I hadn’t had time to think about our date destination for even a moment. I looked at the clock. Already, it was four in the afternoon—and I hadn’t taken a shower, brushed my hair, anything. We were meant to have our date at seven, I knew. But already there was so much to be done.
I allowed the phone to linger without texting him back immediately. I rushed to the bedroom, stripping off my clothes. Boomer, at the window, continued to meow. I turned on the shower as hot as I could and started scrubbing at my scalp and my underarms. I shaved my legs swiftly, noting it had been a little while—given my lack of sexual prowess in the previous weeks. I shivered, knowing that if I missed a single spot, Drew would notice. He knew the female body better than anyone.
I jumped into my bedroom, my wet blonde hair streaming all around me. I peered into my closet, my eyes wide. What the hell was I going to wear? I heard my phone begin to buzz—loudly, a phone call—in the next room. I walked naked, feeling my breasts bounce lightly. The phone’s white letters screamed; “MEL.”
“Hey, Mel,” I said, sounding a bit distracted. I missed my studio partner a great deal, but I knew how busy she was with baby Jack.
“Molly!” Mel called. She sounded loud, pulsing with energy. “I’ve missed you so much. I’ve been worried about you.”
I nodded my head, watching my naked body in the mirror by the refrigerator. I looked good. I spun this way, then that, inspecting my body. “I’ve missed you, as well,” I murmured. “We have to get together soon. I decided to try to find another dance studio.”
Hooked #2 (The Hooked Romance Series - Book 2) Page 3