Hooked (Hooked #1)(5)

I needed to say something. I couldn’t just let this moment pass me by. I had missed so many big moments in my life; not this one! Not this one! “I. Um. I don’t meet anyone like you,” I stammered. “I mean. Not usually at that coffee shop,” I joked then, rebounding.

Drew laughed at that. “I just consider it a privilege to even walk you home. It’s been a while. I feel like a kid again. Although, I think I’m better looking than that one back there.” He gestured behind him back toward the coffee shop. The poor sap with the acne and the tuna melt.

“You don’t know,” I said, teasingly. “And how could I know about you when you were a kid? You could have had acne all down your face, chubby cheeks—a stub nose? I don’t know what surgeries you’ve been under. I don’t even know if Drew is your real name.

“Ah. I see the game you’re playing,” Drew spoke, making me blush. I thought about asking to see his ID, but I didn’t want to push the game too far. It had been so long since I had played the game, after all. I needed to re-boot.

We had arrived at the front door of my apartment. I gazed up at my window, its small balcony hovering over our heads. “This is me,” I said, gesturing.

Drew looked at my great apartment building, its red brick looking sad in the wreckage of this new century. (I had learned that the building had been built in the late 1800s, just like the dance studio building. I tried to imagine it, that life. I tried to imagine that time, when these beautiful buildings were being built, left and right. But I couldn’t.)


“Rather beautiful,” Drew said. But he had turned back toward me.

I pulled at my yoga pants and tight shirt a bit as we stood there together, eyeing each other. I felt each silent moment pass; each of them felt so heavy. I blinked my long eyelashes at him and whipped my blond hair around my shoulders. His face was glowing in the new moonlight. I had lost track of time; certainly it was nearly eleven in the evening. I would be up early, of course; planning, teaching. My mind was rushing with the business of it all.

But suddenly, Drew began to creep forward. He was closing his eyes, moving his face into mine. His lips felt hot, rich on my own, and we crept into earnest kisses. He reached around my neck, holding his hand there, massaging my tense shoulders. I felt myself sigh into him, feeling the way his tongue nipped in and out of my mouth, playing with me. Tempting me. I felt such stirring, such sexuality in me. My * became wet, hot.

But then; he broke. He was breathing heavily also. I could see such desire in his eyes. He wanted me. Why was he moving so fast? Why didn’t I care?

“Do you think—“ he began. His eyes skirted left to right. “Do you think we could go upstairs? To your place?”

I breathed in a cool sip of air, trying to clear my head. I turned my face toward the street, watching the rushing cars pass by. I thought of the mess upstairs; the oatmeal I had spilled earlier that morning, the empty wine bottles collapsing in a heap against the microwave. I shuddered, thinking about making quick love to the man before me—this most beautiful man. It all seemed too terrible to bear. I closed my eyes, centering myself. “I don’t think that’s a good idea,” I said firmly. Some small part of me rejoiced. I was out of it; I was safe.

“Are you sure?” Drew said, nearly hanging his head down like a dog.

“Yes,” I said again, raising one of my eyebrows high on my head. I could be sassy. I remembered my college-aged self, how I had put my hand out to only the best, the sexiest. The real men who could handle my unique, supple sexuality. This man, this Drew; he could handle it. But not now. Not now.

“Well then. I will go about this a different way.” Drew tapped his foot, looking around him. He shot his arm out. “I’m just going to go ahead and be that guy—that traditionalist. Why don’t you go on a date with me? Friday night? Isn’t that when the kids are going out these days?” His eyes flashed.

I considered this for a moment, tracing my tongue around the inside of my teeth. I could still taste him. I wanted him. “I don’t know,” I said. “I always have so much to do on Saturday mornings.” I remembered the tiresome day that had come before; the constant classes, the constant complaints. The constant pliés and reléves. The pointed toes; the classical music.

“Then Saturday evening, a week from today. If I can wait to see you that long,” Drew said earnestly, moving toward me. God I wanted his lips on my lips. “Come on. If you don’t agree, I’ll just start stalking you or something. I have to see you. You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve seen in all of Chicago.”

I knew this was not true. I had seen a million more beautiful women than me only just that day. Five just in the coffee shop. But his voice seemed true, not riddled with any sort of falsehood, with lies. His eyes shone brightly.

I thought for a moment. “I don’t know—“ I sputtered again, unsure. My thoughts were rushing around in my head. Finally, seeing the desperation, the loneliness deep in this man’s eyes—a man, not a boy like so many of my last pursuits!—I said okay. I nodded my head languidly, rolling my eyes a little bit. “Saturday night. Sure.” I nodded firmly. My mind was screaming; I’m going on a date! I’m going on a date! With a real person!

“Wait—“ Drew interrupted, reaching into his pocket. He turned his phone toward me. “Can I have your number? You know. So we can make plans for next week.”