Page 49 of New York Love Stories: Vol. 2

“Well, alrighty then. Good night to you too.” I close the cabinet, unsure how to feel about that interaction.

I return to my room and shut the door quietly, forcing my thoughts to focus on getting ready for bed instead of what just happened with Rad. As soon as I crawl under the covers and turn out the light, I hear soft footsteps on the other side of the room approaching the door.

But then I hear them distancing into silence again.

My curiosity is getting the better of me and tempting me to open the door and ask if he needs me. But I shouldn’t. He would have knocked. So there is absolutely no reason to walk back out there.None whatsoever.

Not even to check to make sure everything’s okay. We’re fine. It just got a little awkward at the end. The man has a million things on his mind, and I know for a fact that I’m not one of them.

Maybe not for a fact. But I have my suspicions.

15

Rad

This is the biggest mistake I’ve made in years.

Why’d I ask her to move in with me?Why the fuck did I choose to torture myself like this?

Friends? With Tealey?I scoff.Yeah, not possible.

I could barely sleep a wink knowing Tealey was only down the hall from me. I could sense her in the apartment . . . so could my dick. I haven’t had to take a cold shower over a woman in a long time, until now.

Even pumping iron at three o’clock in the morning didn’t work out my frustrations. I added a five-mile run to help burn off the adrenaline. My mind finally cleared in the quiet early morning hours. I took another shower, hot this time, to lull my mind and muscles into getting some sleep.

Using the light of the early morning, I meander into the kitchen after little sleep. I start the coffee machine, so it begins heating the water, and then go to my cabinet for a mug. Opening it up, I grin. With the new distractions in my apartment, I’d forgotten about the mug collection.

The ass mug seems to fit my behavior best regarding how I ended our night, so I grab that one and set it on the coffee stand. When it’s filled, I take the steaming cup with me and sit on the ledge of one of the windows.

Even at this hour, the city is dotted with lights, and when I crack a window to get fresh air, I hear a melody that only someone who loves Manhattan would love—the honk of horns, the sound of laughter escaping an open window nearby, and the vibrant hum of the streets coming to life.

The wood floor creaks, and I look over my shoulder to see Tealey, dressed in pajamas covered in images of cats, tiptoeing out of her room. She’s quirky, much more than I ever thought before. I smile from the sight of her, though, and from her choice of sleepwear. “You live here,” I say. “You don’t have to sneak around.”

Her spine stiffens, and her shoulders shake with laughter when she finds me in the darkness. Holding up a glass, she says, “I needed water.”

“Help yourself.”

She moves into the kitchen and starts filling her glass. “Can’t sleep?”

“Not well,” I reply.

“Me either.” Crossing the room, she sits down on the sill facing me, her eyes dipping down over my body. I didn’t think to put a shirt on, not used to having company. I guess I’m lucky I pulled on a pair of sweatpants.

She leans against the brick column dividing the windows and gazes through the glass. Sticking her hand near the opening, she rolls her gaze back to me. “Spring is my favorite. When the bitter cold of winter is behind us, but the heat of summer has not yet set in.”

Her bare knee is bumped against the thick cotton of my pants, and despite learning to share a space with someone again,I can’t stop thinking about how much I like having a connection with her—the laughs, smiles, and little touches we’ve shared.

Jesus Christ, Wellington.

It’s been all of ten hours since she moved in. Get your head straight. Make small talk, for fuck’s sake. “I tried to be quiet.”

“You didn’t wake me.” Closing her eyes, she inhales. “That coffee smells so good.” I like seeing her at this time of day. There’s no tension in her shoulders, and her eyes are wide, taking in the world. It’s as if her body knows it can wake up with the day.

She straightens and starts padding across the floor. “I think I need a cup.”

I stand with my back to her and look out the window. If I don’t, I’ll stare at her in ways that I worked out in the middle of the night . . . or so I thought. I have no perspective at this hour.

“Nice ass,” she says.

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