Hooked 4 (Hooked #4)(7)

I walked toward the lights, placing my hand on the window. “How gorgeous,” I murmured.

Behind me was the bedroom he was building up, bit by bit. The large bed was directly beneath the center of the skylight. It was wrapped in a great, white comforter. It looked like it was perfectly made every morning. I wondered if Drew was human.

Next to the bed was a small little station, with a large couch and a television. Drew tapped a button, and a movie came on the screen. The Godfather. My heart leapt in my chest, and I smiled at him. “I love this movie.”


“Who doesn’t love this movie? Look. They’re in Italy in this scene.”

“Don’t you just love her dress,” I asked, walking toward him. I sat on the couch, my mind lost in thought. I felt so comfortable, so at peace, even with the Chicago world abuzz around me. I grabbed Drew’s hand and led him to sit next to me. I gave him that secretive, pretty smile. He gave in, of course, and collapsed next to me, wrapping his arm around me. We sipped wine in silence, watching Michael Corleone walk through the Italian countryside and fall in love: perhaps the only sweet and truly beautiful part of the whole story.

When the murders started once more, Drew and I brought our eyes back together. We didn’t want to live in that world any more. We wanted to be on the couch, there in Chicago. Together. “So. Do you think you can come over sometimes during the week and help me transform this place, bit-by-bit?” His voice was in a near whisper.

I nodded. I cuddled closer to him. “Of course. I have so many ideas. Do you think you’ll turn that great room into a sort of ballroom? Think of the grand parties you could have. New Year’s parties. Birthday parties.”

“Right. And weddings, even.” Drew’s eyes gazed at me with such love. My throat felt caught. I felt like I couldn’t breathe.

I kick-started myself once more. “Um. Yes. That would be gorgeous.” I sipped my wine. I noticed there was a large hammer off to the side of his bedroom, draped in a few white sheets. “What is that for?”

He laughed. “That, my dear, is what I used to break down these walls. This floor wasn’t always open.” He tapped his nose. “In fact, I’ll probably be using it to knock down some of the walls downstairs.” His eyebrows waggled at me. Every time I looked at him, I felt such sexual energy. “Do you want to help?”

I nodded quickly, leaping up and placing my wine on the table before me. I grabbed the hammer and swept toward the steps with Drew laughing at my heels. We went down to the library floor, where we could see so much of the city. I brought my hammer up high into the air and rammed the great beast into the wall, creating a large hole. I laughed, feeling the energy from the blow course up and down my arms. I blinked toward Drew, beside me, shocked at what I’d just done. “What—“ I called, laughing.

“Again! Again!” Drew shouted.

And so I hit it again, allowing another part of the wall to fall. On the other side, I could see an old alarm clock and slumped-over bed. I crashed again and again, already feeling weary from the weight of the hammer. After a few more swings, I handed the hammer to Drew. He grabbed it, thanking me, and then burst it through the adjoining wall, bringing it crashing down. We were eliminating a room; we were forming an open arena for a beautiful life, a beautiful house. I placed my hand over my mouth, imagining Drew living here for many, many years—perhaps with children, with a wife. I bit my lip, trying not to imagine me in the mix. We weren’t even boyfriend and girlfriend. I was just his f*ck buddy. His f*ck buddy who was helping him re-decorate the walls of his home.

Finally, the room was complete. I allowed myself to fall to the floor, the hammer in my hands. It was almost too heavy to pick up at this point. Drew shook his head, laughing at me. “I’m going to go get some more to drink,” he called to me as he sauntered down the hallway. “And how about pizza? You like pizza?”

“You know we live in Chicago, right?” I called back, feeling sassy—feeling like my old self. The person I’d lost so long ago.

I stood up and peered out at the world, hearing Drew down the hall as he walked down the steps toward the kitchen. It was nearly nine-thirty in the evening on this work night, and I didn’t care at all. I was going with the flow. I was spirited, to the wind.

I looked at my phone for a moment, finding a message from Rhetta, the old woman who’d been at the class that day. “Great job, lady. We’re happy to have you back. You keep us young.” I bit my lip reading it.

I did a small pirouette in the window as I heard Drew come back down the hall, carrying two fresh glasses of wine. “Well, well. I think I just caught somebody dancing.”

“You saw nothing,” I answered him, teasing. I grabbed my wine glass and did a few more pirouettes, walking back toward the bedroom. “No spills,” I winked at him.

Finally we were back upstairs, splayed over his couch. The wine was flowing; our conversation was easy, subtle. We talked about everything. I told him that although I was sad to see my old dance studio go, I was very much getting used to the new one. “I don’t know when I’ll have time to really go through all the reparations that must be done. But I will,” I spoke lightly. I was so confident, talking to him. It was like I wasn’t my usual self.


The pizza guy was soon at the door. Drew rushed down the steps and grabbed the deep-dish, delivering the boy a hefty tip. He brought the pizza back with forks and knives, and we dove into the deliciousness of it—into the shining cheese, the pepperoni. Our conversation kept going, me speaking between cheese bites.