If Ever(72)

"As compared to what? Was I supposed to be mean?" I laugh.

"Of course not, but you gave each person time and actually looked at them when they talked to you. Not everyone does that."

I take her hand, linking my fingers with hers. "When I was a kid and someone at the stage door talked to me, it meant the world. Of course, now it's a whole different deal with selfies and social media."

"Yeah, I'll admit I've checked you out online. There's hundreds of pictures of you with giddy fangirls."

"Hardly. I'm a tiny blip compared to television or movie actors. In fact, I did a bit of stalking you online after we first met."

She stops in the middle of the sidewalk. "You did?"

I tug her forward and slip my arm around her. "Of course. I wanted to know more about the cheeky girl with the charming smile. Those two-minute packages the network airs before your dances are hardly enough."

"Bet you didn't find much." Her arm wraps around my waist and she snuggles closer.

"Mostly I found pictures of you from the show. I loved the ones where you look bored or annoyed with Dominic. They're the real you."

She looks aghast. "Which makes me wonder why you cleared out dresser drawers for me."

"With you there's nothing fake. You're not hiding anything. I love that."

"Is that what you think?" She laughs. "You have no idea how hard I'm working not to say something stupid and embarrass myself."

"Really? In that case, I can't wait for you to mess up and will call it a brilliant success when you do." Back at the flat, Ryan's door is closed, but the light shines from under the door.

"Did you tell Ryan I'll be here?" Chelsea whispers, eyeing the door.

"Relax. He's fine with it. He has friends over all the time." I hang up our coats.

"I'm your friend?" She says.

I run my finger along her rosy cheeks, down her jawline and tap her on her nose, red from the cold. "You're my very special friend," I say suggestively.

"Oh, great. I sound like some cheap prostitute you picked up after an office party."

I burst out laughing. "If you were a prostitute, you sure wouldn't be cheap." I take her face between my hands and kiss her. I've been waiting all day to have her all to myself again. When I pull away, her eyes are dark pools and I know she feels the same. Without a word, I lead her to my bedroom and lock the door behind us.





24





"Dish!" Anna demands.

I gaze out the bedroom window to the street below and start from the beginning. "Well, we went out to dinner before his show."

"Not that. Did you sleep with him?"

"Anna!"

"What? It's an obvious question. I've been with Will for four years; we're boring. I need some juicy stories."

I'm not sure what to say. My instinct is to keep Tom all to myself. Talking about things might make it less meaningful. Then again, Anna's my closest friend, and I trust her with my deepest secrets.

"Well?"

"Yes!" I drop onto the side of the bed and grin.

"I knew it!" She squeals. "And?" she coaxes.

"And what?" I toy with her.

"Was he a gentleman or did he slobber and paw at you? Please say he was good."

I flop back. "Oh, Anna. It was wonderful. He's sexy and funny and tender." My hand caresses the comforter and my eyes settle on the spot where our heads left indentions in the pillows. "It didn't feel like sex. It was so much more."

Anna sighs. "I'm so happy for you. You deserve great things."

"I just hope he doesn't get sick of me."

"What are you talking about? This guy has been pursuing you for weeks."

A smile cracks my lips. "I know, but now that the chase is over, I hope things don't change. Guys get bored." Every guy I've known seems to move on after a few weeks or months.

"Stop it. You are your own worst enemy. Relax and have fun. What are you doing today?"

I roll onto my stomach. "He's got some meetings but tonight I'm going to the show again. I can't stay away." I'm about to tell her all about the show, but she gets a call.

"It's Will. Can we catch up more later?"

"Of course."





I end up going to every show that weekend. I’ve discovered the TKTS booth in Times Square where I buy half price tickets the day of the show. The seats aren’t up front, but every seat is great and I get to see him and hear his gorgeous voice. He's impossibly talented. I'm in awe and more than a little self-conscious of my meager accomplishments in life. How does he do it? How does he sustain this phenomenal level of performance day after day?

I'm too embarrassed to admit I've been to his show again so I rush back to his apartment right after curtain.

"How was the show?" I greet him with a kiss when he gets home. He smells of baby wipes.

"Good. What did you do?" He kisses me hello then heads to the kitchen for a snack.

"Started a book." I look away so he can’t see that I’m fibbing.

“You don’t need to sit here by yourself when I’m working, you should get out. I hear there’s a night lights tour that’s great. I can get you a ticket. Or there’s so many good shows to see.”