Page 22 of New York Love Stories: Vol. 2

Swinging the back door open, she waves. “You’re the best, Rad.”

I tuck my hands in my pockets and smirk. “So I’m told.”

Laughing, she adds, “Don’t wait up for me.” She’s grinning when she ducks into the back of the taxi.

While Marlow’s off to see some guy she’sactuallydating, I’m standing on the street corner like an idiot. That’s my cue to leave, and hopefully, I can catch the end of the game with the guys.

I don’t get four blocks when Jackson texts me the final score and types:Thanks for the payday, sucker.

Sighing, I text:Remind me to never let it ride.

Jackson:Why would I do that when I just won from your poor judgment?

I chuckle. Me:Cade still there?

Jackson:He just left.

Me:I was heading over there, but I think I’ll head home instead.

Jackson:Early morning for me, so I wouldn’t be good company for long anyway.There’s a game on Thursday.

Between my caseload, Tealey moving in, and now this Marlow madness, I reply:A lot going on this week. I’ll check my schedule.

Jackson:All good. Have a good one.

Me:You too.

Although I’m heading in the same direction as my apartment, I’m not ready to go home. I lean forward and tell the driver, “Change of plans. Brooklyn.”

Cars honking. The city lit up at night. People crowding the sidewalks. It doesn’t matter if it’s a Tuesday or Saturday night, the city is always awake and thriving. The thrum of New York beats inside me, and I sit back and let it fight against the adrenaline coursing through me. That’s something I usuallyreserve for court but going against the Marchés is similar. The only difference is I think I just lost my case.

Tealey asking if I’d ever considered leaving has me looking at the city again. I’ve become so used to the hustle of the streets that it had become a blur in my mind, a place I was sleepwalking through to get to my job or go home with not much life between.

If someone were to ask her, she’d detail out some exciting life that she imagines I lead. It’s interesting enough to pass time, but is it fulfilling in the ways humans desire?

I think it used to be.

Now, I’m not so sure.

As we cross the bridge, a new rush runs up my spine. I shouldn’t be fixated on Tealey like I’ve been since we’re just friends, but I’m starting to believe that she might put some excitement back in my life.

Friend.

Roommate.

Whatever we are, I’m liking this energy she’s injected.

Deep in the borough away from the bridge, the cab turns down a street and then cuts across another. I recognize the block, though I don’t think I’ve ever been here at night. Come to think of it, I’m not sure I’ve been in Tealey’s apartment at all.

I pay the driver and get out. Looking down the street in one direction and then the other, it’s distinctively quieter on her block than the parts of Manhattan we drove through to get here.

After verifying the address once more, I walk to the door. I’m about to knock, but some guy on the first floor smoking a cigarette asks, “You don’t live here. Who are you here to see?”

“Tealey Bell in 3B.”

The lines in his brow are smooth, and his expression lifts. “Why are you here to see her?”

“We’re friends.Good friends.” Since that doesn’t seem to satisfy the old guy, I add, “She’s moving in with me this weekend.”

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