You Are Here (17 page)

Lucie was, as far as I could tell, oblivious to my divided attention. She chattered about how she loved the neighborhood and how fascinating the history of it was. Then she mentioned how she wanted to meet more of her neighbors.

“Maybe the grouchy old lady who swears like a sailor and doesn’t like anyone but me,” she said as I forced my full focus back to her. “I’ll make up stories about my life—completely insane, impossible stories, and she’ll claim she hates them but doesn’t.” She screwed up her face and strung a slew of filthy insults together.

I stopped and laughed, relieved to be distracted from myself. “Best friends forever, I’m sure.”

“Ooh!” She jumped up and down once. “Or a shut-in hermit who only opens the door on Thursdays at two forty-nine in the afternoon for me to deliver my homemade shortbread cookies.”

“You bake?”

“I don’t know!” she exclaimed, her eyes bright and gleeful.

I lifted my eyebrows as we approached the door to the café. “Well,” I said on an unintentionally forceful exhale. “Good luck with that.”

“Why do you say it like that?” she asked.

“Like what?” I opened the door and held it.

She dropped her arm from mine. “Like you won’t be here.”

I stared at her. “I didn’t mean it that way.”

She tossed me a half smile with uneven eyebrows and went inside. The barista up front greeted Lucie warmly, welcoming her back. As Lucie introduced me, I quickly scanned the place. Side hall to the back, emergency exit only. One kitchen entrance. Two separate customers at single tables.

We ordered a couple of coffees and Lucie picked out a chocolate croissant. She led me to a set of overstuffed chairs, where I steered her away from the chair facing front before she could sit down. She looked at me strangely but didn’t argue.

“I love this place,” she said before sipping her iced caramel latte.

I nodded. “It’s a great spot.”

“I came here my first day alone in the apartment, and right away I felt normal, if just for a second. You know? Like this is what I do on my off days; I sit with my coffee and read at the café. It was a nice feeling.”

“That’s really rare,” I said. “Finding a place that speaks to you where you belong. It’s a gift.”

A couple of teenagers came through the door, drawing my attention too easily. They spoke as if everyone wanted to know about the text so-and-so got from what’s his face. I watched them for a moment and scanned the rest of the café.

“Grey?”

I snapped my eyes back to her. “Yeah?”

“Did you hear me?”

“Sorry.” I frowned.

“Everything okay?”

“Fine.” I smiled, too forced. Her forehead creased, and I dropped it. I was really cocking it up on this whole date thing. “I’m sorry, I suck at this.”

Her eyes widened and she snickered. “It’s not like I have dates to compare it to,” she said. “Though I’m fairly certain I was not the prom queen.”

“What does that matter now? I’m still a shitty date.”

She dropped her head to one side and gave me a look. “We’ve been here twenty minutes, and we’re both on a dating-for-dummies level. How about we give ourselves a break?”

I picked up my cup. “If you say so, your majesty.”

Lucie’s laugh soothed the nerves I didn’t realize were fraying. Despite the low-key atmosphere, I was working overtime to relax. My instincts had me watching the door and checking behind me at regular intervals. My leg hadn’t stopped bouncing since we sat down.

She started asking about me, but I limited the answers to my premilitary days. I tried to think of a way to turn the inquisition to her, but given her lack of past, I clammed up. All my responses were short and clipped. Then she asked about where I lived now.

“I travel a lot.”

“Right, but where do you have all your stuff?” She licked her fingers when she finished the last bite of the croissant.

Storage lockers. Hiding places.

“Um, I don’t really keep a place?”

Again, the adorable confusion. “You’re homeless?”

I turned to watch a busboy go into the kitchen. “Not really,” I said, distracted. “I’m just moving all the time.”

“Why?”

Muscles contracted in my legs, tension knotting fibers together too tightly. I exhaled audibly. “Work.”

“Oh, okay, right. You said you were here for work,” she said, contrite. She sipped her coffee. “What is it you actually do?”

I froze. I wasn’t ready for the actual confession, but I didn’t want to lie to her. “I … freelance.”

“Doing what, though?”

My mind spun. “Uh, classified operations consulting.”

She stared at me blankly.

I smiled weakly. “Can’t really elaborate—part of the job.”

Douchebag.

“Okay.” She sounded frustrated, but thankfully changed the topic. “Well, tell me something else. What’s your favorite spot in New York?”

“Anywhere but.” The words were out before I heard them, my eyes on walkabout by the door and windows. It was silent too long, which brought my gaze back to her. Her face fell with disappointment. My stomach dropped into my feet.

She stood. “You know what? We can go.”

“Lucie—”

“I just need to freshen up first,” she said before hurrying down the side hall toward the bathrooms.

Brilliant fuckup. More like “Dating for Assholes” or “How Not to Do Everything.” I looked around to find the barista looking at me with something akin to disgust. Unsettled, I got up to follow Lucie and apologize. I couldn’t let our “date” end like this.

I knocked and pulled on the handle. It came open and Lucie gasped, staring at me in the mirror. One eye’s mascara was smeared down her cheek.

Fucking shit
.

“Oh! You know,” she snapped over her shoulder, “what if I was peeing? I mean, give me a minute, huh?” She turned back toward the mirror and swiped under her eyes.

A quick glance around had me stupefied and slightly disturbed. I let the door close behind me as I stood mouth agape. “This bathroom is
insanely
clean. Like, crazy spotless clean.”

“Yeah, the owner is code-red OCD about it. It’s probably cleaner than the kitchen.”

I found her eyes in the mirror and was gutted by the hurt I saw there. I exhaled and it was loud, the full force of my screw-up kicking me in the gut.

“I’m sorry, baby,” I said, my voice pleading. “I don’t just suck at dates, I suck at being human.” This was the horrible goddamn truth.

She shook her head. “No, you don’t. It’s fine.”

“It’s not fine. I promised you a date and I delivered the shittiest on record.”

Her smile was a relief, but it didn’t reach her eyes. I took a step toward her. “I know I was distracted, but it was no reflection on you, I promise.”

“Why are you so distracted?” She avoided making eye contact.

I swallowed. “Whenever I’m in public like this, I’m alone. Wanting to be with you in any way is new for me,” I tried to explain. “Socializing is not something I do.”

She didn’t respond.

Unnerved by silence, I added, “Not well, anyway. Not anymore.”

Finally, she nodded, still avoiding me. “I think my expectations are just too high. I see the good things to come, but don’t account for the imperfections.”

“Don’t make excuses for me,” I said.

“I’m sorry.”

“And let’s stop apologizing,” I begged, chuckling. “It’s getting a little too Oprah in here.”

“What’s Oprah?”

“I—” I tilted my head. “Seriously?”

Her open, guileless expression was the definition of beauty, and I didn’t know it at the time, but I fell even harder. And then I laughed harder than I’d laughed in a decade.

“What?” she asked, clueless but happier.

I walked up and pressed my chest to her back. My palms skimmed around her sides, rubbing back and forth over her belly. She pushed back into me, humming as she settled her hands on mine.

Her skin was warm, and her butt wiggling against me as she made noises of comfort turned me on too easily.

She makes me stupid.

“How can you be real?” I asked, kissing her temple.

“I asked myself the same question about you four or five million times,” she mumbled, cozy in my arms. “Then you showed up. Get over it.”

“I don’t think I ever will.”

“Then just enjoy it,” she said, her voice lower. She was feeling the same. My fingers tickled the skin beneath the hem of her shirt. “Please.”

I looked at her face in the mirror. Her eyes were half-lidded and her chest was rising quicker. My hand drifted lower, disappearing below the waistband of her skirt. The need for her crashed into me so hard, I forgot where we were. Maybe it was the crazy up and down of her highs followed by inevitable lows via my fuckups, but I didn’t care. Not right now.

She wove her fingers into my hair, fastening them to my head. I traced her neckline with my tongue and then my lips, stopping to suck on the skin at the bend. Her other hand gripped mine, her nails digging into my knuckles and dragging them into her silky briefs. I reached her wet sex and slipped a finger inside her. Lucie tugged on my hair.

“More.”

I added a second finger. Her voice cracked and bounced into a high-pitched cry. She writhed, creating friction and movement where I wasn’t giving it. I kissed my way up to her ear and planted my lips behind it once before sucking her earlobe in my mouth, hard.

Lucie panted, her hands tugging on my hair. I was painfully hard, my dick trying to carve its way through the confines of my jeans. Her whine climbed in volume, chasing her release. I felt a surge of pride, hunger. I wanted nothing more than to own everything about her, including her orgasms.

“Do you want to come on my fingers or with me inside you?” I growled into her ear as we locked eyes in the mirror.

She moaned, loud, and right then I realized I hadn’t even locked the door. Given the level of noise we were making, I doubted anyone would try to come in. Regardless, I wasn’t going to stop.

She pinched her eyes shut and begged, “Oh, God, Grey. Inside me. Please!”

I pushed her forward over the sink and pulled her hips back. Her hands gripped the sides of the basin, her knuckles white as her volume increased. I reached under her skirt and pulled her underwear. My fingers ripped through the fabric at the side, but I got them low enough.

My demand felt like gravel in my chest when I ordered, “Open.”

Lucie

Cooking

I was frantic as I opened my legs and tilted my hips up and back. Grey was inside me in one hard thrust.

“Unnnngh!” I called, the universal sound shattering across the mirror and bouncing around us—no doubt alerting anyone anywhere near the hallway what was going on in here.

I felt a hand close over my mouth. I wheezed through his fingers at the surprise of it, but couldn’t find it in me to care. I mean, I
got
it. I was fucking loud. Or loud fucking. Whatever.

I had never thought public sex could be so hot. But again, who knew what I used to think? At the moment, Grey was relentless and far from gentle—and sweet Christ, I liked it. A lot. I mean,
clearly
—I was a hair’s breadth from completely coming undone and we weren’t even going at it that long.

It seemed somewhat sudden when my legs gave up and I folded, my orgasm crippling my ability to remain standing. I couldn’t even describe the noises I was making behind his hand while he held me up with the other arm. He slammed into me three or, I don’t know, seven more times. When he stilled, he released my mouth and held my hips with both hands in a viselike grip. He grunted as he came, hissing a string of expletives at the back of my head. A few breaths later, he began to speak, but I stopped him.

“Shh,” I said, my legs still wobbly, but I straightened up to feel his chest at my back. “Not yet.”

He breathed a laugh of air hot on my neck. I briefly wished for a little cuddle time, but cleanest public bathroom on earth or not …
No
.

“Well at least we have makeup sex down pat,” he said, finally.

I laughed. “Mmm.”

Once we could both form coherent sentences, we cleaned ourselves up as quickly as humanly possible. When we exited, the café wasn’t any busier—only one other customer remained, but the barista’s face was as red as a tomato as she stared at me. That was fine, but I avoided eye contact anyway as Grey ushered us out like celebrities dodging paparazzi.

So, the date didn’t go exactly as planned, but I wouldn’t call it a failure.

~

When we got back to my apartment, I asked him to come up.

“How much time do you really want to spend with me?” His face was serious, but his voice teased.

“All of it,” I blurted and blushed.

He smiled, breathing out a laugh with his eyes trained on the ground. “Sit for a second.”

We pulled up a step and I immediately leaned into his shoulder.

“Lucie, you’ve got me spellbound,” he said and my whole body smiled. “But you’re practically suggesting I move in. Most people wait more than a couple days.”

“I know,” I said, hearing the offense in my tone. “But … I guess I’m afraid to let you leave. What if you don’t come back?”

He turned to look at me. “But you’ve seen it, haven’t you? You’ve seen us together.”

I raised an eyebrow, unsure if he was mocking me.

He winked. “I promise, I will never just disappear again.”

The second floor windows across the street caught Grey’s attention and he narrowed his eyes. Sharply, he looked back and forth at least three times before he blinked.

“You should get inside,” he told me, standing quickly. “It’s hot out. Get in there and put the air on.”

It was pretty obvious he was shooing me inside for some unknown reason. Unfortunately, I knew he wouldn’t tell me what it was if I asked.

“What are you going to do?” I asked.

That got his attention and he stepped in front of me, holding me by the waist. “I have a little work to do.”

“Consulting stuff.”

He pulled a strange face, but as soon as I saw it, it was gone. “Research.”

“Okay, well, how about you come for dinner tomorrow?”