*
Gallow Green was usually booked weeks in advance, but a little sweet talking, and a lot of cash had Andi and I standing in the elevator that would take us to the rooftop bar. Andi shuffled nervously as the creepy elevator attendant stared down at her with a deadpan expression. He was a constant fixture in this elevator and did a great job at making everyone feel uncomfortable. Andi’s body instinctively leaned towards mine, and I threw my arm across her shoulders to pull her close, sending the attendant a discreet wink to thank him for his eerie persona that had sent the girl into my arms. His lip twitched as he repressed a smile and continued to stare at Andi. When we stepped onto the rooftop, I felt a satisfied sense of accomplishment at her not so subtle gasp. It was like walking into an overgrown, rustic garden, situated on the rooftop of an unassuming Manhattan building. Green leafy vines grew across archways, and plants and lanterns lined the pathways around tables and chairs. Tonight, a band played gentle swinging tunes from the fifties as the usual murmur of a busy New York evening filled the air. I pulled Andi along as she tried to take everything in, her mouth perpetually agape. I ordered us each a beer and found an empty bench that overlooked the Manhattan west side to sit. A tin bucket of daisies sat at Andi’s feet, and she delicately brushed her fingers over the flowers.
“I love it,” she murmured.
I knew she would. It was her thing, earthy and idyllic, perfect for a country girl in the city. She had pulled her hair loose from its ponytail, and I found myself wanting to play with the long strands that fell over her shoulders and back. Not so subtly, I stretched my arm behind her and took the liberty of twisting one gentle falling curl around my finger. Andi gave me a ‘what the’ look but didn’t say anything. And she didn’t pull away either. I could barely contain my satisfied smile. On the car ride here, I had explored the life changing realization that had hit me and then had made a decision. Get the girl. Once I was focused on a task, nothing would deter me. I felt strangely at peace with my decision to explore a relationship with Andi. I should have cared that this could mess up our friendship; I should have cared that she might not reciprocate my feelings; I should have cared that I could easily hurt her. My experience with relationships was non-existent; I could, and possibly would, screw this up. I should have cared that in a month I would be screwing another woman on film. I didn’t though. I just felt...tranquil…and horny.
Andi leaned back into my arm and let her gaze settle on the vines that grew over our heads. My eyes dropped to her leg where her dress had slipped up, giving me a tantalizing tease of her upper thigh. I could see my hands on her skin, a contrast of colors and textures. Where Andi was soft and milky white, I was hard and olive. She was so small, I was so big. Stark disparities that I knew would complement each other perfectly.
“I never thought being here in New York would feel right. I mean, I knew it’s what I wanted, it was my dream, but I honestly thought I wouldn’t fit in.”
I somehow dragged my eyes from her legs, leaned back, and took in the view of the Manhattan skyline. “People can fit in just about anywhere, depending on their attitude. You have a good attitude, you’re determined and passionate, and I guess it helps that you’re a little crazy and happy to talk to strangers.” She hit my chest and I laughed.
“Bradley made a bet that I won’t last more than three months,” she murmured unhappily.
I snorted. “Bradley’s an asshole. He should be supporting you, not placing bets on when you’ll fail. I’m going to kick his ass for you next time I see him.”
“I can kick his ass, and he is supporting me; he’s the one who convinced me move here. He said I needed to travel and explore the world to be sure I found my place in it. Then he said he thought I belonged in a pokey little town miles from everywhere, with a gentle husband and a hoard of children under my roof.” Andi shook her head. “I hate being miles from everywhere. I grew up miles from everywhere and I always felt alone and secluded. I have no intention of breeding a football team, and although I don’t like to be handcuffed, I’m not particularly interested in a gentle man.” It was a challenge not to cough up my mouthful of beer. “What about you?” she asked, and I gave her a sideways glance.
“I’m not into men, period.” She slapped me on the chest again and this time I caught her hand beneath mine and held it there. I could feel her confusion, and offering her a reprieve from the awkward moment, I let her go.
“Jackass. I mean, where is your place in this world? Is this it? Do you think you will get married one day? Do you want kids?”