Page 59 of Caper Crush
And then it’s as if a curtain comes down. He pulls away.
“I’m impressed.” He removes his hands from my waist. He rolls so that he’s on his back and he gets up. And I feel the lack of him. I swallow.
The problem is that I don’t view walls as impenetrable. I’ve taught myself to view them as a challenge. I am willing to run into them and try to jump over them as hurdles. And so, that mischievous, naughty side of me is saying, “So you think you can put up a wall?” It doesn’t want to play nice. I give it a stern talking-to. This wall is electrified and has barbed wire on top. It’s like we are in the demilitarized zone between South Korea and North Korea, and any sparks must be quickly doused before they create a conflagration and we mess up our uncles’ peace.
I walk over to the table and drink some water from my glass to give me some time to pull myself together.
“I take a refresher course, every once in a while, so my muscle memory doesn’t forget.”
“Have you ever had to use it?” His eyes look concerned, and I feel all gooey again. This is not good.
“Once, someone pressed up against me as I was going to get stock from the back room of the bar, but I turned around so quickly and put my hand up, taking a position, that he got scared and ran off.” I change the subject because he’s looking even more worried now. He’s frowning and staring at me. “Let’s call Uncle Tony and Takashi and see if they can go on Saturday morning. They can keep the gallery assistant occupied while we check out the storage room.”
Uncle Tony says that the gallery is closed this Saturday because Vinnie and his assistant are away for an art show. He’ll follow up with Vinnie to see when the gallery will be open again.
I hang up the phone. William blows out the candle on the table. I should leave.
“I hope you don’t mind, but I actually do have to get some work done.” William is back to being formal.
I can take a hint. “Thanks for dinner.”
“Thanks for dessert,” he says.
“Sometimes dessert before dinner is a good thing,” I say.
“Sometimes.” He glances at me intently, but with that half smile. “But usually it’s better to wait.”
I pet both Sora and Pochi and leave. I take a deep breath as I ride the elevator down.
I don’t think we were talking only about dessert back there. Does that mean he’s waiting? That there’s still a chance? He could have said that he doesn’t believe in eating dessert before dinner.
I check my phone for the nearest Citi Bike. The night air is cool, and there’s a breeze from the Hudson when I cross the streets. He’s attracted to me. I know that. Do I want a relationship? If it’s not likely to work out, we will have to see each other for years at Uncle Tony’s. I could be okay with that. I stay friends with my exes. But he doesn’t. Or at least not if he was in love with them. I don’t particularly relish being the ex he could stay friends with because he wasn’t in love with me. If it’s just that I’m attracted to him, I shouldn’t act on it. But there is something more—like we understand each other. A warmth fills me.
He’s definitely holding back, though, so he doesn’t seem to feel enough.
I unlock a Citi Bike, pull it with some force out of the rack, and place my manga book in the flat basket.
He’s not willing to take that risk, which means I’m the one who is at risk of heartbreak.
As I pedal home up the bike pathway, I remember when Peter would whip up a painting in a night and then the teacher would rave over his work. I would have spent weeks working on my painting and get a far more muted acknowledgment. I was happy for him but also ashamed that I was jealous. And now I’m ashamed that I’m annoyed that William doesn’t like memore.
The traffic light ahead turns red. I stop. I should be grateful for his rational judgment that we’re better off not acting on our attraction. An electric bike whizzes past me, running the red light. I keep one foot on the ground, one foot resting against the hard, metal pedal, ready to push off. The red light holds steady. I should laud him for his self-control—if I can flatter myself that it is self-control.
The walk light for the pedestrians on the other side of the street blinks, warning that it will soon change.
I’m okay with waiting for now. I should be sure there’s something more between us before acting on my desire—given the consequences.
Chapter thirteen
Mydressripplesagainstmy legs as I dance toward Rex; my lips graze the microphone as I sing our final song of the set.
“I stare at the closed door. I thought those nights on the roof deck meant more,” I sing to the crowd. “Counting the stars, confiding, arguing, kissing. I thought you were the one. But now I’m left with longing. A cloud has blocked the sun.” I turn back to face Rex and sing the last line.“Don’t leave me now.”
I hold the last notes of “Don’t Leave Me Now,” letting the longing reverberate through the hushed hall. The lights fade out, and the audience erupts in applause. I let my head fall forward, wiped out. As the lights come back on, I stand straight.
The audience is screaming, “Miranda!”
I choke up when I try to talk, and Ling pats me on the back. All that love from the audience is making me tear up again. I smile weakly but rally my voice to give thanks to our fans and introduce Ling again on the guitar as I wipe away a tear. Rex takes over, saying it’s not a complete concert if I don’t cry.
