Hooked (Hooked #1)(15)

CHAPTER EIGHT

The next morning, I awoke with a start. I was shocked I wasn’t in my own bed. Perturbed, I allowed my eyes to roam around this strange environment. Where was I? My head was pounding; I was so clearly hung over. I hardly ever drank anymore, especially since Mel had had the baby, since my friends had filtered off to other cities around the United States.

I finally realized. An arm passed over me, beneath my naked breasts. It trembled just for a moment, as if the owner was in the fit of a dream. I turned my head toward his—toward Drew’s head, I suddenly realized—and noted how beautiful his face looked in the morning light. His eyelashes were long; his face was utterly relaxed. I leaned my head close to his, kissing him on the nose. He didn’t wake.

I turned my head to the side to look at the clock. Surely it was still early in the morning, I thought. But the clock blared back an angry 11;45. I shot up straight out of bed immediately, shocked at how late I had slept. Drew—god, this sincere power in bed—slept on, turning onto his other side. I longed to get back in bed with him, to allow him to do what he had done to my body, again and again.

But I couldn’t. The girls would be waiting for me at four in the afternoon, and I had to make it to the dance studio; I had to prep. I had to tell Mel everything about the previous evening in order to understand that it had been real—that it hadn’t been a dream. I thought about it, peering at the carpet beneath my feet, the few bruises I had from the previous evening’s raucous sex. It had been real. It had been completely, completely real. My heart leaped to my throat.

In a hurry, I rushed around, finding my clothes. I found a notepad, as well, and wrote a quick note on it;

“Drew. Had a meeting with my assistant, had to run. Thank you for the marvelous evening.” I paused before writing the last part. “Call me. X.”

Satisfied, I placed the notepad directly by his sleeping form and fell from the room, by habit taking the elevator all the way to the first floor. When I reached the end, panting and sweating, I erupted into the world of concierges, of rich people. I saw the concierge who had seen me naked the evening before and tipped my head to him, acknowledging him. He nodded back at me, a glimmer of excitement in his eyes. I shook my head, wondering at how different my life was, then. How nothing, perhaps, could ever be the same.

I rushed back to Wicker Park, my phone still in my pocket, hoping ever for a phone call from him. From Drew. I burst into the coffee shop in which I had initially met him and ordered a coffee and a large bagel and cream cheese for my lunch to refuel for the class, from the great, exerting sex. I giggled at myself as I spoke to the same acned boy who had helped me just the other day. I wanted to reach across the counter and kiss him flat on the cheek. “Thank you,” I said to him, taking the bag and the coffee. I winked at him and he turned a deep purple.


I rushed around the corner, looking forward to finding Mel at the dance studio already, fresh with a complaint about her husband, about how tired she was because of the baby. I was ready to listen to all of it. I had everything at my fingertips, now. I had my dance studio, a new man, a best friend—even a cat! Nothing could stop me. I rounded the corner, looking at how the September sun gave a bright glint to everything all around me. I loved this city, I thought to myself. I loved it more than I had loved anything else. Everything had ultimately worked out. If I had joined the ballet, if I had actually made it as a dancer, I wouldn’t be here, so content and so wild after the most amazing night of sex of my life.

I arrived at the door to my studio, a portion of the bagel sticking out of my mouth. Looking at it, as I searched for my keys, I resolved to stop eating bagels. They were so bad for me, after all; I could choose better things, more weight loss-appropriate things. I could be extra skinny, extra model-like to fit in with Drew’s amazing, rich world.

I was considering this as I took another bite and pushed the key in the lock. But the lock was already open; the door flung itself out onto the street. I looked up, blinking, seeing a dark-haired, graying man before me. His glasses were gleaming in the sunlight, just like the windows. His trench coat was long, ominous. I narrowed my eyes at him, still chewing ravenously.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” I asked him in my best Chicago accent.

The man cleared his throat. “Come on, Molly. You recognize me? I know it’s been over a year, but.” He pounded his hands over his chest. “I’m the building owner! Langston!”

I clapped my hand over my eyes, so embarrassed. “Langston. I am so, so sorry. I didn’t recognize you. Have you lost weight?”

Langston allowed me to enter. I held the bagel away from my face, bringing my supplies in with me. I was going to have to change before the four o clock rehearsal. I had already begun to think about it; how I wanted to re-work part of the girls’ entire routine. I wanted to liven things up around there, to make them really, deeply interested in it. I started humming, pouring some coffee grounds into a filter. “Langston. Do you want some coffee?”

“Um.” Langston hesitated. He was looking all around the room, at the mirrors, at the floorboards. “Sure. Sure. Say. You’ve done great work with this little space. I didn’t think it was good for nothing.”

I laughed, looking at him. My eyes grew a bit serious as I began my speech. “I love this little building, Langston. I know, I know I’m a bit behind on my payments. But I just wanted you to know that I have a good deal of money coming in very, very soon.” I paused for a moment, considering what I was saying. “So. Just. If you were coming to kick me out, don’t. Please don’t. I have everything worked out. I wrote out a whole—“ I snapped, trying to thinking of the word.