Page 11 of Get It In Writing
Chapter Seven - Harper
“You ever pass notes in college?” I ask her as I walk up to her desk. “Or were you the good girl in the front of the class with her eyes on the teacher?”
She clears her throat and looks up at me, her gorgeous little mouth pulled up into a smirk.
“I always paid attention in school,” she says, getting up and pulling her blazer over her shoulders. “I wasn’t one for goofing off.”
“I could already tell that.” I look her up and down, my eyes unable to drag away from her beauty. “But let me guess. Guys passedyounotes all the time.”
“Um, no,” she says, leaning to turn off her monitor and straighten up her desk for the evening. “I wasn’t exactly the hot girl on campus.”
“So you did a complete 180 once you graduated?” It’s incomprehensible to me that the creature standing in front of me didn’t always possess the lightning-bolt beauty she has today. “Or were you always this gorgeous and just never realized it?”
She lifts her face from the desk and a wisp of hair falls across her forehead. I want to push it away and decorate her face with kisses, but since she’s a good girl, I’ll do it in private, when I have her in my bed with her legs wrapped tight around my hips.
“Oh, stop it,” she shrugs, grabbing her bag and coat and leading me out the door to the elevator bank. “And what about you? Were you always this verbal?”
“Me? Yeah. I was the poetry guy in college. And short stories. I even wrote these quasi-political manifestos and plastered them all over the dorms,” I say.
“Political man on campus?” she says, punching the down button to the elevator. “And did you have a bunch of clove-smoking, tree-hugging women following you around?”
“Why?” I ask, smiling. She’s got me absolutely pegged. “Was that what you were in college? Spending your days protesting and spending your nights in the darkroom developing the photos you took for your alternative on-campus newspaper?”
She doesn’t say anything, and instead she just laughs. This little back-and-forth game of tell-me-who-you-really-are is making me excited to get to know her better. I might be transparent with who I used to be, but she isn’t. She remains mysterious, and I don’t know who she really is. Good girl with her nose down in her books, bad girl who I’m about to make mine with my lips and my cock?
Or something in between?
We make our way into the elevator and down to the lobby, where we wave goodnight to the evening staff manning the front desk, and outside to the brisk cold of the New York City winter. It gets dark early here, and it’s one of the things I’ve always loved about living in New York. In the winter, the night starts early because the sun sets too soon. It’s the city that never sleeps, and that’s because the daylight gets burned fast.
So by five in the evening, the sky’s already pitch-black. She looks up and lets her warm breath escape in whimsical puffs above her pretty face. I can feel her looking for the stars, but with the bright lights of the city, they’re all drowned out.
“I’m going to take you to the country soon enough,” I say. “I have a home in Central Westchester. Don’t worry.”
“Worry about what?” she asks, pulling the chic funnel neck of her coat close around her chin. “I was just admiring how massive the buildings are here.”
“Weren’t looking for the stars? Nature in the city?” I ask, casting my glance skyward.
“Maybe a little,” she says, shifting her feet.
I divide the distance between us with two long steps and wrap my arms around her waist. Even though she’s bundled up for the cold, I can feel her curves beneath the wool. Even through all those layers, I can feel the desire inside her.
“You’re the brightest star out here tonight,” I say, surprising even myself. That’s some sappy shit, even for me, but I can’t help it. It just happens to be the truth.
“That crap work on girls?” she asks, her body relaxing into me. Her teeth graze her bottom lip as she sucks it into her mouth.
“You show me something that describes you better than that,” I say, “and I’ll say it, and I’ll mean it.”
I pull her into me tighter than before, and our mouth crash softly together like a frozen wave on the beach, breaking against the rocks. She’s warm and soft and everything hidden in the night, underneath the cold concrete. Her body relaxes even more into me, and as our tongues unfurl against each other’s, I can’t help what my body is doing to my brain.
She’s perfect. She’s soft. She’s mine.
