Hooked 2 (Hooked #2)(16)

On the table sat Boomer, his yellow eyes looking up at me with such confusion. I dropped my clothes to the ground and put my hands on my hips, trying to give him a similar level of sass. “What’s up, Boom?” I asked him. I leaned forward and scratched his ear over and over. Soon, he closed his eyes, giving way to the sense of pleasure.

“I know. It’s easy to get distracted with pleasure,” I murmured to him. I rushed to my room to find my robe and a book. I wanted an entire day of lazy—an entire day during which I could daydream and imagine a whole life before me with Drew by my side. It didn’t have to happen; it didn’t have to be real. It just had been so long since I had given myself the chance to hope for something, that I couldn’t handle it. I needed some time to think.

The next day, I went down to the lake and went for a long run along the beach, feeling the way the sand allowed my shoes to bounce up from the ground. I didn’t know that I was grinning the entire time, that people were looking at me strangely in the whirring of the Chicago wind off the lake. I tried to replay the events of the previous night in my head, but I grew far too horny to even keep up with myself.

On the train back to my apartment, I called Mel. I couldn’t take it any longer.

“Mel. Hi,” I whispered, noting that several people surrounded me on the subway.

“Molly, darling. Hank and I—and Jackson!—were just talking about you,” Mel spewed. “We can’t believe you found such a catch in Drew. We always thought he—you know—went and got a little bit snooty in New York City. New York just breeds a different kind of person, as you know.”

“I thought the same thing, at first. I thought he was a little—I don’t know. Ultra confident.” I laughed on the train, trying to control myself. “But he’s so, so sweet. Taking care of people with his money; being so kind and understanding about the dance studio.”

“You didn’t tell him we’re closing, did you?” Mel asked me. I could tell she wanted me to ask him for the money.

I lost a sense of joy for a moment. “You know. I didn’t. I—It’s too fresh, you know?”

“Sure. Sure. He’s family, to me, but I understand why you wouldn’t tell him. I kept things a secret from Hank for years. No secrets now, I don’t think. But that’s just because nothing is sacred anymore when you have a kid together. Everything just sort of—goes off the wayside.”

“Sure. It’s just. Last night—” I gushed into the phone. “I feel like I want to get really serious with him. Do you think this is a bad idea?”

Mel paused for a moment. “I don’t know if I’ve ever seen Andrew become serious with anyone. But everyone gets serious, eventually. Why wouldn’t it be with you?”

“No, you’re totally right,” I said, my heart pounding. But the doubts started to creep in. “You’re totally right. Hey. I have to go.”

I hung up the phone before telling her I loved her, like I normally did. I decided to exit the train early in order to walk past the dance studio. I hadn’t been thinking about it since yesterday’s dinner, since I had been taken on the wildest sex adventure of my life. But slowly, surely, I was descending back into real life.

I walked down the weary street toward my beautiful dance studio. I remembered how happy I had been when I had started renting it. During the first two months of owning it, I had actually LIVED in it, in the back room. I hadn’t been able to afford an apartment yet, and I had made do. Perhaps, in hindsight, this was what I should have been doing all along. Living in my dance studio; devoting my life eternally to dance.

I reached the corner as the sun set along Le Moyne Avenue. I realized that the next day was the first day of October, and it felt strange, like the month had passed me by too quickly. On the side of the brilliant brick building was a sign that said; “SOLD.” The letters were big, red, and stark. I wanted to tear the poster down. I wanted to do something—something loud, something zealous. But I didn’t know how.


I walked up to the window and peered in, noting that everything—the desk, the back bookcase—had been removed. I wondered what they were going to do with this old building? Convert it to a frozen yogurt shop? Another coffee shop? God. Around me, things were becoming so similar. I wanted everything to be unique, individualized. But Chicago was going the way of the dogs.

I walked back toward my apartment, pausing at a Chicago dog stand to grab a snack. I watched as the man administered all the ingredients, spreading the mustard far across the meat. I thanked him and paid him. I walked down the street with the steaming dinner in my hands, looking forward to getting back to my bed, to my daydreams. At least in bed away from the cruel world, I could pretend that everything was going to work out—that everything was fine. At least there, tucked away with my cat, I could forget about my nagging mother and my failing business. I could just be.



CHAPTER EIGHT

Several days went by, and for some reason, I didn’t hear from Drew. I watched my phone for the entire next day, remembering that every other time he had been a consistent texter, a consistent caller. He had wanted a second and then a third date so badly. And now, after we’d f*cked so supremely in the apartment just down the hall, he didn’t want to contact me.

Was I supposed to contact him? I wondered. I felt like I had messed up somewhere down the line, but I couldn’t be sure. I wanted to think that he was simply too busy taking care of homeless people, taking care of Chicago’s many children. He was, after all, both building a new bookstore and trying to be a philanthropist all at once. Maybe he didn’t have time for a girlfriend?