City Love(61)

“I thought you said everyone left,” Austin whispers.

“They did,” I whisper back.

We listen. Whoever it is doesn’t sound like they’re leaving anytime soon.

“Now what?” Austin whispers.

“We could pretend we were doing copying.”

“This late? After everyone else is gone? I’m not even supposed to be down here.”

The copy room opens directly to the main office floor. The second we leave this room, we’ll be exposed to whoever’s out there. The only reason he can’t see us right now is that Austin had me pressed up against the farthest copier. Parker made it very clear during orientation that any kind of romantic entanglement between interns would lead to immediate suspension. We can’t risk being exposed.

“We could sleep here,” Austin whispers. “They taught us how to make bubble-wrap pillows in Boy Scouts.”

A nervous giggle threatens to escape. I clamp my hand over my mouth to stop it.

Fortunately whoever was on the phone wraps it up. We hear the distant ding of the elevator as he leaves.

“Let’s get out of here,” I say, darting to the doorway.

“You don’t want to make out some more?”

“This bet has already been won. By me. Prize time.”

“You never told me you were so good at winning bets.”

“There’s only so much a person can disclose in one week.”

“One week and one day.”

Sometimes Austin will say the perfect thing or look at me a certain way and I swear I’ve known him forever. But it’s only been one week and one day. The best one week and one day of my life. I don’t know how it’s possible to feel like you’ve known someone forever when it’s only been one week and one day. I just know that it is.

“So what’s my prize?” I ask when we’re outside.

“Dessert at Bubby’s.”

“I love Bubby’s!”

“Of course you do.”

“How did you know?”

“It’s a Sadie place. They have the best pie. How could you not love it?”

“My prize rules. I haven’t been there in forever.”

“Me, neither. I actually just remembered it was around here when you asked what your prize was.”

“Were you planning a different prize?”

Austin lifts my hand to his mouth and kisses the back of it. “You ask a lot of questions.”

“I like answers.”

“Answers aren’t always helpful. Sometimes the not knowing is better than the knowing.”

“Like when?”

“Like when someone is trying to protect you from the truth. Would you rather hear the truth and be hurt or not know and be happy?”

“That depends. Was your original prize better than dessert at Bubby’s?”

Austin laughs. He holds my hand as we cross the street. So much is happening around us on our walk to Bubby’s. So much to look up at. Not anything big or even anything most people would notice. I’m all about the little things. Every nuance seems to be vibrating with positive energy tonight. The tranquil notes of wind chimes floating down to us from inside an open apartment window. A woman in a courtyard setting a table for dinner with sunflowers and brightly striped napkins. Window boxes filled with colorful flowers. The aroma of fresh-baked bread wafting from a bakery. It’s a gorgeous summer night, perfect in its simplicity.

We order pie (cherry for me, blueberry for Austin, but we’ll share) and coffee at Bubby’s.

“Jon Stewart comes here,” I say.

“Have you ever seen him?”

“Not inside. But one time I was sitting at that window table and I saw him walking by with his son.”

“My friend who lives here in Tribeca says he sees Jon all the time. He doesn’t even think about it when he passes Jon anymore.”

“New Yorkers are so jaded. Celeb sightings don’t even faze us.” It’s probably best not to disclose my Claire Danes stalker antics.

“Especially down here. At least three of my friends live in the same buildings as whoever’s hot right now. I’m sure Jon’s not the only famous regular at Bubby’s.”

“Do you come here a lot?”

“No, but I used to. Now I mainly hang out around campus or in Jersey City. I pretty much only come into the city for internship or class.”

“But there’s so much to do here!”

“Yeah, I know. It’s a convenience thing. Once I’m home, I’m usually in for the night. What can I tell you? I’m lame.”

“Why do you live in Jersey City?”

“It’s complicated.” Austin takes a bite of pie. “Man, that’s good.”

“Break it down for me.”

“They only use fresh blueberries. You can taste the—”

“Not the pie. The complicated.”

“Oh. Well for one, rents are way cheaper in Jersey. The rents for one-bedrooms around here are so outrageous they should be illegal. And the apartments here are smaller. I don’t see the point in paying more for less.”

“Location.”

“But I can be on campus in fifteen minutes door-to-door. I can either drive in or take the PATH or the ferry or even the bus. The city is completely accessible anytime I want.”