Last-Minute Love (Year of the Chick series) (23 page)

My eyebrows narrowed. “Maybe you’re okay over here, but I’m not. I’ll be over there,” I pointed to where the guy was dancing with himself, “and I’ll be having a great time.” I waved at Erik. “Toodles!”

As I made my way to the dance floor, I suddenly felt very annoyed with this previously expressive man
. He had already broken so many rules of the boyfriend-code to get close to me, so did he really think playing it safe now would suddenly turn him into a saint?

Good luck with that
.

I walked right up to the
guy who was dancing wildly.

And I joined him.

I was flailing my arms one second, then rocking out-of-date moves like “The Running Man” the next. My eyes were closed now too, as I imagined myself dancing in my bedroom, like so many other nights when the door was safely shut.

I continued to ro
ck it out, wondering if Erik had quietly snuck away and gone home.

Good riddance.

Out of nowhere, someone grabbed my arm and spun me around.

I opened my eyes to find
Erik, who looked like he was ready to pounce. “Leave that guy alone. You’re mine now.”

***

An up-tempo love song started playing. It was “Close to Me” by The Cure, and it was perfect.

Erik
sang along as we danced, and I loved watching his lips say the words. Eventually our dance became a game of him trying to contain me, only for me to burst out and flail my arms wildly as I danced. I was drunk and high on energy drink, after all.

As he dragged me back and spun me around so I faced h
im this latest time, my hair had become a disaster, all tangled and covering half my face. Using both his hands, he slowly brushed the strands away from my face, and smiled his warmest smile yet.

Something finally softened in my
previously cynical eyes, which made me stop dancing and wrap my arms around Erik’s neck. I hugged him tightly and he pulled me in by the waist, leaving no more distance between our bodies.

A slower song began so we stayed as we were, holding each other close. He pulled away fro
m me enough so we could face each other. His pale blue eyes beamed like never before, as he gently kissed my forehead.

I blushed and looked down at my feet, all my bravado now out the window
. He pulled my face towards him and I could finally feel it happening.

T
his charade of being friends was over.

Seconds later our
lips finally met in a first soft kiss, and I could feel it from my scalp to my toes.

T
hen I remembered we were standing in the middle of a night club.

I pulled away, as the energy-shot of courage swam back.

“What is it?” he said smiling.

“A first kiss in a night club? Really? We’re like a hip-hop song come to life. It couldn’
t be LESS romantic.” I rolled my eyes.

“If you would ever shut up for ten seconds, maybe I could give you some romance.”

He brushed my hair even further from my face, slowly moving his fingers all the way through it, until he reached the very ends of the strands. From there his finger tips slid down my arms, barely touching me as they travelled to my wrists. I shivered. He didn’t leave me hanging long, as he pulled my face towards him more aggressively now, pressing harder for our second night-club kiss.

When our lips parted he quietly
whispered in my ear: “It’s not where you are that makes the romance, it’s who you’re with.”

Birds sang, fireworks exploded, a harp played, and cupid shot out an arrow. 

I was screwed…

Chapter Twenty-One

At four a.m., the cab dropped us off at my hotel.

Erik lived about ten blocks away, so I watched him to see what he would do.

He held my hand and led me inside the hotel. “C’mon.”

Well I guess he’s not going home.

I followed him into
a darkened and deserted hotel lounge, but stopped before we reached the plush seating. Instead he led me to a corner shielded by a plant and a baby grand piano.

We stood awkwardly for a few seconds.

“Romi…” he whispered.

“Yes?” There wasn’t time to say another word, as his lips quickly found mind again.
He continued to hold my hand, and squeezed it as our kiss deepened. Just as I was trying not to faint, I heard drunken giggles in the lobby. High heels clacked on the marble floor and stumbled along, as Erik put his hand to my mouth and said “Shhh.” It didn’t matter though, because a silly little plant couldn’t hide two adult bodies.

“Get a...zr
oom,” a girl slurred. “Get a ROOM!”
Second time’s the charm.

I burst into laughter and our cover was truly blown.

I suddenly remembered my pact not to take things too far, because if I fully indulged in this weekend, I knew what it would be like if Erik went back home and stayed together with his girlfriend. It would be like he had used me for everything I had to offer. Like he had won.

I put my hands on his chest and tried to seem professiona
l. “Obviously you shouldn’t stay over,” I said. “But I mean…how many beers did you drink? You probably need to use the bathroom.” I sighed. “Okay fine, you can use the bathroom but then you should go.”

Erik seemed
amused by this argument I was having with myself. He smirked and followed me to the elevator.

Once we were inside that cozy elevator
, no wild make-out of any kind took place (despite what I’d seen in so many movies before). Instead we were simply two people staring straight ahead, our hands firmly in our pockets.

It was awkward.

A few moments later as we stood outside my room, I slid my key card into the door but it wouldn’t open.

“Shit,” I whispered, now painfully aware
that I couldn’t perform well under pressure. I looked behind me nervously, like a lioness bracing for the oncoming hump. To my surprise, Erik wasn’t even looking at me. Instead he simply stared down the beige-carpeted corridor, looking almost...bored.

Finally the door opened and I let him inside.

He took in his surroundings as I tried not to shake from all the nervousness.

First, I slowly removed my boots.

Then I unbuttoned and removed my jacket, hanging it up in the closet neatly.

Next came the scarf which I slipped off my neck, folded, and carefully placed on the dresser.

I could feel Erik’s eyes on me the whole time. He was watching me from the foot of the bed, but made no move of his own.

The corners of his mouth revealed a smirk.

With nothing else left to do, I straightened out my hair which was pointless by now, given all the damage the wind ghosts and dancing had done.

His smirk
was on full display now.

“So if you need to pee,” I said. “The bathroom’s rig
ht over there.” I pointed to a door less than two feet away, this most obvious of bathroom locations.

He smiled. “I’m fine for now.”
He removed his jacket in one effortless sweep, letting it fall to the floor right in front of the bed.

So you’re NOT going home then…

He took a few nonchalant steps in my direction, as I decided then and there that Danish men were the most sexually-intimidating men in the world.

Either that or I was a
prude in a serious drought.

He grabbed at my
cardigan like a caveman confused by a foreign object. Frowning, he slipped it off me one arm at a time.

“That’s better,” he said.

I looked everywhere but at him.

“Hmm…” he said. “
Someone seems a little nervous.”

I
tucked some hair behind my ear and avoided his stare. “Believe me, I am way more outgoing…usually.” I grabbed at any thoughts I could find. “It must be the ‘Five Hour Energy,’” I quickly said. “I think it said on the bottle that it may cause nervousness, and…” I trailed off as he grabbed a wad of my tangled hair.

Suddenly we were kissing like never before. I clung to the collar of his shirt, almost ripping it off when
his other hand traveled down my back...and lower still.

He pulled away with a serious expression. “Let’s take it to the bed.”

He practically tossed me onto the heap of pillows that adorned the king-sized bed.

He
threw the pillows to the floor one by one, took a long hard look at me…then lunged forward. 

By now I had lost control, and I really, really, really didn’t care…

***

The sun hadn’t risen yet, but the moon
broke through the darkness.

Erik and I stared deeply into one another’s eyes. Our foreheads glistened slightly, and our two heads of tousled hair had definitely seen better days.

I shifted in bed and traced my hands around Erik’s bare chest. His arms were halfway inside my shirt, the shirt I still wore.

As for our
legs they were still tightly intertwined.

Our denim-wearing legs.

“So how did you stop yourself?” I said. “I thought slutty Europeans weren’t programmed to show restraint.”

His eyes widened in shock. “Excuse me
Miss? What did you say to me in that phone call again? That I could go screw myself if I thought I was getting laid?”

I tried not to laugh. “Those weren’t my exact words. But by all means, feel free to diddle your way to ecstasy if you still need to. Just
please do it in the bathroom. And run the water so I don’t have to hear it.”

He laughed. “Whatever happened in your life to make you this insane?”
His hands moved their way from my back to my front, stopping when they rested on my chest. “Ooh,” he said. “I like these.”

I looked away. “Oh shut up.”

He started rubbing casually. “No really, I like this size. In twenty years you’ll still seem youthful with these.”

“Okay,” I pushed his
arms out of my shirt. “Get out! The only person making me insane right now is you.”

I sighed, and in that moment I
was so relieved I hadn’t worn a foam-filled push-up bra.
Thanks El.

“
And to answer your original question,” he said, as he gently stroked my hair, “after our three-hour walk I already knew we couldn’t have a one-night stand; or a two-night stand or whatever.”

He was confusing me now. “Why?”

“Because when three hours pass like ten minutes, there is something much deeper to discover.” He smiled. “I don’t want to rush it.”

It was the sweetest and most impossible thing anyone had ever said to me. I stroked his chin softly. “I know I’m going to sound like a buzz-kill, but our time’s running out really fast.”

A look of sorrow flashed across his face but he quickly recovered. “Well for now, go put on your cute pajamas and twirl around for me a little bit.”

I
smiled and stumbled out of bed, fully awake in a totally made-up dream world...

***

Late the next afternoon, Erik and I walked hand-in-hand through the “Art of Ancient Egypt” exhibit at the MET. Today he was wearing a casual flannel shirt with his jeans and so was I. I would’ve looked like his lumberjack twin or lesbian BFF, if my own flannel shirt wasn’t tight, not fully-buttoned, and not flaring out like a little shirt-dress.

I stroked
his wrist and smiled as we admired the artifacts. “Do you know how good it feels, to find someone else whose brain is filled with ancient Wikipedia?” I said. “Now I can gaze at these sarcophagi without any shame.” I sighed.

My eye caught a well-preserved coffin. “Ooh, look at all the scenes painted on there.”

“That means he wasn’t royalty,” he quickly said. “A royal burial would have objects and figurines, not pictures.”

I rolled my eyes. “Thank you professor!”

“Hey I thought you said you love my ancient brain!”

“Did I? Well I
’m not in my right medical mind. I haven’t slept in thirty hours, remember?”

Stupid energy shot.
He elbowed me and I winced. “Hey!” I said. “Careful, okay? I’d tip over if I wasn’t so high on the scent of ancient embalming fluids.”

He hugged me from behind and smiled.
“I get sooo turned on when you talk about ancient mummification techniques.”

A well-dres
sed mother shook her head at us disapprovingly, as she dragged away her gawking young son.

“That boy will look up to you for years,” I said.

He kissed the back of my head. “Let’s go see what else is here.”

***

A short while into our explorations, the fatigue of being awake for thirty-one hours finally hit. A row of leather benches with a lovely courtyard view was our spot, as I lay my head on his lap for a five-minute rest (or so I claimed). In reality I fell asleep…almost immediately.

When I opened my eyes
the sun was starting to set, and I could hear the steady hum of voices around us. I put my hand to my face and was immediately horrified, as I felt the trail of drool across my cheek. His pants were damp with it too.
Disgusting.

I quic
kly wiped my face with my shirt and straightened up, deciding then and there that I’d play dumb.

I kissed him on the cheek and smiled. “How long was I out?”

“An hour,” he casually said.

I winced. “Dammit! And I promised I wouldn’t nap. Sorry.” I stroked the back of his head.
“How did you keep yourself busy?”

He gestured to the phone in his hand. “I caught up on e-mail, browsed around Facebook, oh and I texted a fri
end. I told him: ‘This girl has her head in my lap. How can I make the most of it?’”

I elbowed him but he squeezed me in a hug. “Do you feel better now?”
he said.

“Oh yes.”
It was only a power nap, but suddenly I felt like I could take on the world.

“Great, then it’s time for our next adve
nture!”

I stretched and yawned as I rose from the bench, then casually led the way.

He whispered from behind me as we walked along. “I felt it, you know.”

I turned back to face him. “Felt what?”

“The warm puddle of drool as it soaked into my jeans.”

I wanted to jump off a cliff. “Okay, that’s it. I
’m going home.” I stopped walking and hid my face in my hands.

He pushed
my hands away and smiled. “It’s okay, I’m actually glad to know that my Bollywood Princess is human. You still have some drool on your cheek, by the way. It’s starting to crust.”

I wanted to run
as fast as I could to the noisy streets, but instead I just stood there mortified.

Can’t I just be cool for once?

***

After an early dinner at a
rustic Italian restaurant, Erik and I were doing some very important shopping.

He pulled a shirt off the rack and showed it to me.

“No,” I said.

Now it was my turn. “What about this?”

He shook his head. “I want you in a tighter T-shirt.”

I laughed.

Erik and I were browsing through the New York Rangers fan store at Madison Square Garden, trying to find some gear in the final minutes before the game.

Learning about Erik’s love of
hockey had been a random surprise, and when he told me he’d scored tickets to a Rangers game for our special weekend...I was thrilled. What could be more perfect for the girl who’d been so obsessed with the Leafs’ playoff runs in the nineties, that she’d totally forgotten to focus on dating boys?
The beginning of the end of being cool.

I continued browsing through hopeless man-sized shirts that had clearly been sewn for g
rizzly bears. “Just so you know I’m only wearing a Rangers T-shirt for you.” I looked up at him sternly. “‘Cause I will always be a Leafs fan ‘til the bitter end.”

“Isn’t it always bitter for them? When was the last time they did well in the playoffs? Or even made the playoffs
at all?”

I rolled my eyes. “Have fun watching the Denmark national team when you go home.”

He looked serious. “That was cruel.”