“Going where? I hope you’re not leaving,” he says with earnest, a worry line creasing his forehead.
“No. Not leaving Chicago,” I tell him. “I… um… well.” I look down at my hand in my lap as I confess, too fearful of his judgment and the look I’ll see in his eyes when I tell him. “I am thinking about going to college. I didn’t go right after high school.” I hold my breath and wait for his criticism. Surely, he’s well educated, and to be ‘out’ with a girl like me? One with only a high school diploma? I can only imagine if he learns I grew up in a trailer park. This date is over. I should probably just grab my bag and slink out now.
“Oh, is that all,” he says, looking relieved. “I think college is a great idea,” he adds, then continues. “My friend, Stephan, from high school took a gap year after we graduated. Pissed his parents off big time. He was so smart, too. He’d gotten accepted into Princeton, Yale, and Carnegie Mellon. Anyway, he was big into programming and headed to Silicon Valley after we graduated high school. It worked out for him, though. He’s now a big-wig at Google. Never stepped a foot in a college.”
“Wow,” I say, feeling less embarrassed that I’d not gone to college when I graduated. Even smart kids skipped college. And they succeeded. I wasn’t doing great, but I had been doing okay. But now I have money to go further. And I want more than some lame customer service job at a utility company. “Where did you go to high school?” I ask, not like I would know the school. I wasn’t from Chicago. But, again, my mouth was just blurting odd questions.
“A private, small, all-boys boarding school in the Northeast. My dad went there, and so did my grandfather. A stinky old place, but it holds some good memories.”
“Like in that old movie, Dead Poets Society?” It’s one of my favorite movies of all time. I wished that I could have gone to a boarding school. Of course, in that movie it was an all-boys boarding school, and it took place in the 1960s.
“Great movie,” he says, then looks off into the distance, pounds his fist on his chest and proclaims, “Oh captain, my captain!” he says it a little loudly quoting the famous scene in the book that was cited in the movie, and drawing a few glances from the tables around us. He then leans toward me over the table and asks, “Should I stand on the table?”
“Oh, my! No! Not here. Please don’t!” I say, mortified at the attention it would bring. We both start laughing, and I’m finally starting to feel really comfortable talking to this charming, perfect stranger. Well, he’s not so much a stranger anymore.
We chat a little about our favorite movies, and it seems like he’s seen every single one ever released, even tossing out quotes from many. I tell him that I’m more of a reader and that launches a hearty discourse of our favorite books, and I’m elated that he’s well-read although his taste in books is a little different than mine.
“Can I refresh your drinks?” Genevieve asks David, interrupting our laughter and still giving me her backside.
David looks at his watch and says, “I’m sorry.” He looks at me sadly and explains, “I really have to go. I have a dinner thing in Winnetka tonight.” With barely a glance at our attentive waitress. He asks her for the check.
She gives a slightly disappointed pout and says she’ll be right back.
“What are you doing tomorrow?” he asks.
“I don’t have any plans,” I tell him.
“Dinner?”
We’re back to where we were about an hour ago. I battle in my mind with the pros and cons of going out with a stranger. I mean, we’d be out publicly, so that’s safe, more or less, much like this bar. But I’m not in this guy’s league. I mean, surely, he sat at the cool kids’ table at his private boarding school. Is he making a mockery of me? A pity date of some kind? Did someone dare him? I scold myself for thinking like a kid, for thinking like I did back in Harton, and take a breath and let it out. What would Heather do? Or Lainey or Millie? Even very cautious Cara? I search his eyes looking for any indication that he’s at all skeevy and can’t find anything. And I’ve encountered more than my fair share of untrustworthy men.
I take a breath and answer, “Okay,” as confidently as I can, nodding to further convince myself that I’m doing the right thing as well as hoping I’m not making a colossal mistake.
When his face bursts into a smile, I automatically respond with a grin of my own.
“Do you have a favorite restaurant?” he asks me.
Having so little knowledge of the restaurants in this city, I answer, “Not really.”
“Let me think of a couple of good options,” he says thoughtfully. David hands me his phone. “Put your cell number in. I’ll message you a couple of places, and you can decide.” I take his phone and enter my name and cell number into the appropriate fields. “And I’ll need your address so I can pick you up.”
I’m unsure about giving my address, so I tell him, “I can just meet you there.”
“On the one hand, I like that you don’t freely give up your address. You’re smart, and I like that. On the other hand, the gentleman in me is having a hard time with the idea of letting you get to the restaurant on your own, not that you aren’t capable,” he adds, hastily. “How about I pick you up at a public location… other than your home? The library, perhaps? Seven o’clock?”
I like that he’s not steamrolling me. He called me smart. “Okay. Seven. I’ll be there,” I say handing him back his phone.
David picks up the black folder with our bill, and I am struck that I don’t even remember it being placed on our table. Maybe the Flirty Genevieve finally got the hint. David pulls out his billfold and pulls out a few bills and drops them in the folder before he escorts me to the door.
“Can I flag a cab for you?” he offers, nodding his head toward the busy road with both private cars and yellow cabs.
I shake my head and say, “No, I’m good. Thank you.”
David gently takes my shoulders in his big hands and leans in placing a kiss on my cheek like I’ve seen in the old Audrey Hepburn movies. The gesture is so kind and almost familiar, but what gets me most is that scent—warm and cozy with a dash of spice.
“See you tomorrow,” he says quietly next to my ear, his breath sending shivers down my spine.
I carefully look up and down the street to see if anyone else is watching what has just happened. Everyone is completely oblivious either racing on foot down the street or have their eyes glued to their phones.
“Yeah, tomorrow,” I reply breathily.
With every ounce of strength I have, I pull myself out of the gravitational pull that is this handsome and charming man and head toward Van Buren and my building.
Don’t look back, I tell myself. Isn’t that what you’re supposed to do… not look back? Be cool. Aloof. But I can’t help myself, and I look back still not fully believing the past hour. I’m convinced that when I look back, there will be no one there and my overactive imagination had gotten away from me. My stomach lurches when, very much to my surprise, David is still standing there watching me walk down the street. I smile, and my heart pounds. I give a small wave, and he waves back. I have to face forward firstly, so I don’t bump into someone, but secondly because I’m dizzy and feel myself blushing too much, and I don’t want David to see that.
I am still buzzing and bewildered from my encounter with this mysterious ‘David’ when I get back to my apartment building. I can still smell his spicy cologne. I can still feel my hand in his soft grasp and how tenderly strong his hands were on my shoulders. I can still see his deep brown eyes. I can still hear his rich, smooth voice. And the shiver of excitement that raced down my spine from his breath when he whispered in my ear is still energizing me.
I head up to my floor and am just about to unlock my door when Lainey pops her head out into the hallway.
“Hey, sweetie! The gang is coming over. Join us?”
“Sounds good. I’ll be over in a bit?”
“Great. Door will be open.” And as quickly as she pop
ped out, she pops back in and is gone.
I really feel so lucky to have gotten a great neighbor and friend like Lainey.
And now lucky to meet a man like David.
Once inside my apartment, I check my reflection in the mirror at the front door. I don’t think I see anything remarkable about me today. My hair is still straight, and it’s a ruddy brown color. My eyes are still their washed-out, beyond faded, barely blue. My clothes are nothing fancy, in fact, they’re quite plain. I don’t look glowy, and I’m not outgoing like Lainey. Or Genevieve. I definitely don’t look rich and gorgeous or like I should have been anywhere near David, let alone having dinner with him tomorrow. Nothing is exceptional about my appearance. I smile, and it’s my ordinary smile. How is it then that I have had the day I’ve had?
I’m just so unaccustomed to these attentions. High school, and then life after school, was never like this. Never. The boys only wanted the perky cheerleaders and not the ‘girl from the other side of the tracks.’ The only time other girls gave me any attention was when they wanted to meet Jude.
I’m totally second-guessing myself. Why would Lainey invite a total stranger to her place last week? Maybe she felt sorry for me? The first time we met, she did mention that she thought I might not have any friends in town. I was never a popular kid in school. In high school, I was pretty much on my own. My only comrades were Leo and Heather, and after high school, Austin. In high school, before he ran out on me, Leo and I were together because our home lives were so similar. Then there was Austin, but he was more or less a ‘friend with benefits.’ Heather… I never could figure out why she ‘adopted’ me. True, her dad was the manager at the grocery store where I worked under the table until I was sixteen and could legally work, but she didn’t have to be my friend. I know she didn’t include me on everything, and that was fine. I really appreciated every invitation she tossed my way. Because of our friendship, I was exempt from a lot of the bullying I’d been subjected to in middle school. Was Lainey my new Heather? Did I look like a pity case? What about David? Was I a twisted challenge for him? Ask the mousy girl out? Did he think I was going to be an ‘easy lay’ or something?
“Stop it, Crystal,” I tell my reflection. “You are smart and pretty, and there’s no reason people shouldn’t like you,” I tell myself. But the pep talk isn’t working much. I hate the self-doubt that threatens to swallow me whole.
Was it the same luck that I had when I bought my lottery ticket that put David and me at the aquarium and then the library? Kind of weird to run into the same person twice like that. And Lainey. And her friends. So welcoming, inviting me everywhere at every turn. Again, am I just ‘lucky’ now? All my life I’ve never had luck like this. Bad luck, sure. But all of this, the ticket, the neighbor, a man like David? This is far from bad luck.
Or maybe…
Curiosity and a wild imagination have me dashing to my laptop and search the news for anything about big lottery winners in Illinois. Maybe Lainey, and now David, aren’t nearly coincidental ‘run-ins.’
A few searches don’t reveal any news articles. I navigate to the lottery’s website, and I do see the entry for my winning.
Crystal J. from Chicago, IL
Win for Life
$5,000 a Week for Life
Ticket purchased at Joe’s Newsstand, Carlyle, IL
Further searches don’t reveal anything more. No history about me, nor photos. So, it wasn’t like David or Lainey had targeted me. David behaved like a perfect gentleman. Lainey’s invitations and friendship are purely neighborly. Right? I mean, she wouldn’t have to invite me anywhere ever again if she didn’t like me the first day we met last week.
My phone chimes signaling an incoming text. I fish it out of my back pocket, and when I see the message, my heart starts to beat wildly. It’s from David. Hi, Talia, this is David. I really enjoyed meeting you today. Looking forward to tomorrow. And now you have my number if you need to message or call me.
Instantly, in my mind, I’m back to standing on the street looking into David’s amazing brown eyes and smelling his scent both on his handkerchief at the museum, and when he leaned in to kiss my cheek.
I decide that I’ll ‘fake it till I make it’ and wonder how long that will be. And if I’m discovered for being a fraud, I can always head back to Harton. Or find a new town.
I read David’s message again and save his number into my contacts then head to freshen up before heading next door to Lainey’s. I brush my teeth and hair and look at my plain face again. I decide that tomorrow, I’m going to go to one of those makeup counters in a large department store and have them do my makeup. Heather tried to show me once, but I never bought my own cosmetics to practice what she’d taught me. Now I have the means to buy makeup. And I may have someone to wear it for.
In Lainey’s apartment, surrounded by my new friends and boxes of three kinds of pizza, my fears of being the pity case fade. I genuinely feel that these people like me.
Trent is trying to get everyone on board for a road trip before the end of the summer. Taking into consideration Lance and Millie’s performance schedules, the task seems impossible, but Trent is determined. Cara tries to get us to consider someplace exotic, and she’ll write all about it for the blog she writes and will get to write off her expenses to boot. I don’t care where we go, I’m just thrilled to be included.
My phone chimes, and I pull it from my pocket glancing at the screen. I see it’s another text from David. So, dinner choices.
I feel my cheeks get warm, and I work at suppressing a smile.
“Someone looks like she got a nice text,” Millie says. “From a guy?” she asks.
“Um, what makes you think that?” I ask, feeling my cheeks grow hotter as I look around the group, and everyone’s eyes are on me.
“Well, you read the text and bit your lip while you blushed,” Millie explains. I recall Millie telling me that one of her classes for her acting degree was body language, and I dismissed the idea as silly. Now I’m thinking that there’s something to the body-language stuff.
I swallow and try to work out what to say.
“Probably a hot guy, too, to make you blush so pink,” Trent adds.
I can’t deny that. I nod slightly. “Just a guy I met today at the aquarium. And, yeah, he’s pretty good looking,” I admit.
“A hot guy,” Cara repeats, tapping her finger on her chin. “At an aquarium? In the middle of the day? Does he have a job?” Just like a journalist to fire a number of questions all at once, I expect.
“Yes,” I answer, blushing while recalling David’s reaction when I asked him if he worked at the Shedd. “He says he manages money for a private group, and his boss likes him, and he has a flexible schedule.” Suddenly, my fears that I’m being taken for a fool start to overwhelm me again. What does that mean? I manage money, investment funds and so on. For a… private group? Is he a con artist? Secreting away with ill-gotten monies from unsuspecting girls like me?
“What was he wearing?” Lainey asks.
“A suit. An expensive suit, I think. And really good smelling cologne,” I say, the memory of the scent washing through me again.
“Okay, so what else did he say?” Cara presses.
“Well, he wants to go to dinner tomorrow.” I decide not to divulge that we’d already gone out for drinks because I’m afraid everyone will say even that was a mistake. I wait, expecting everyone to tell me that I’m insane for considering the invitation, but before anyone can say anything, the phone chimes again, and I check my texts with a few more pairs of eyes on my screen now. I’m thinking of Everest, The Signature Room, or an Italian place called Gio’s.
“Everest is good, but the portions are skimpy,” Lainey says, stuffing a piece of pizza with everything on it into her mouth.
“Ooohhh? Gio’s! For sure. Go there!” Nina, the chef, insists. “They have this braised sea bass and oh my God! To. Die. For.”
“But the view is only so-so,” Millie advises.
“And personally, I prefer the American fare of The Signature Room. It’s on the ninety-fifth floor of the John Hancock Building and has incredible views.”
“I’m with Millie on that one,” Trent says, then adds, “All places are pricey. He must be loaded.”
I think about that for a moment. If he’s loaded, then my money won’t be an issue—my money is safe.
“You think I should go?” I ask the group for confirmation. “He’s a perfect stranger.”
“What else do you know about him?” Lance asks.
“Um, his name is David. He likes museums or at least aquariums. He went to a boarding school for high school and had something to go to in a place called Winnetka tonight.”
“Yep. Loaded,” Trent repeats.
“Text him back. Signature Room,” Lainey says, clapping her hands. Lainey then suggests, “Trent and I can hang out at a bar nearby, and if he does anything that makes you uncomfortable, you text me, and Trent and I will be right there.” Trent nods in agreement.
My heart is thundering in my chest, but I start to type a reply regardless. How about The Signature Room?
“Perfect!” Millie confirms. “Interested, yet light.”
“What will you wear?” Nina asks.
I feel my body drain of blood. “What do people usually wear to this place?” I ask, scared out of my mind. I hadn’t considered that for one second! I should have suggested a pizza place. I have outfits for pizza.
“Oh you know, chic, sophisticated, understated…” Trent lists.
“So, jeans and khakis are out?” I ask, trying to sound a bit humorous yet letting my new friends know that I don’t really have much else.
“What are you doing tomorrow?” Lainey asks me.
Win for Love Page 11