His gaze doesn’t break from the harbor’s white caps. “Two years ago.”
“I’m so sorry, Adrian. She was always so nice to me.” I cross my arms and lay my head on his shoulder as he pulls me in closer.
We stand in silence as daylight turns to sunset. Our history extends further than an Ivy League high-rise. After a few minutes of silently sifting through our past, Adrian ceremoniously claps his hands.
“Well, Blue, you want a tour of the place?” He’s suddenly like a kid on Christmas morning.
“Of course. By the way, this kitchen is fabulous. Do you use it or just woo women with it?” I hurry over to the oversized island and try to spread my arms the length of it.
“Funny. What makes you think I try to “woo” women with my kitchen?” He leans against the exposed brick beam that separates the kitchen from the living room.
“Right, of course. You don’t need a kitchen.” I arch my eyebrow and grin as I slink toward him. Grabbing his hand, I lift up and whisper in his ear, “It’s just a bonus, I guess.”
He doesn’t respond except with a shake of his head and a grin before showing me the bathroom, study, and guest room. As any good ladies’ man, he saves his bedroom for last. The room bleeds Adrian—the whole place does, really. Strong lines adorned with leather and wood throw my senses into a tailspin and kick my body’s output of estrogen to full-throttle. Adrian Turner is as man as they come, and I shift as my panties suddenly seem uncomfortable.
“This place is unbelievable. You really do seem happy.” I bring up my inquisition from weeks ago on the beach.
“I am now.” With his hands in his pockets, he swings out his elbow and I loop my arm through his. “Let’s go eat.”
*
Adrian and I reminisce through two glasses of Prosecco and the wild mushroom risotto before he asks the host to call us a cab. I don’t see a check arrive at the table, but Adrian pulls out my chair and ushers us away from the restaurant to the main lobby.
“Do you dine and dash here often?” I look over my shoulder and notice no commotion over our exit.
“It’s on my account.” Without further discussion he opens the cab door for me, closes it, and enters on the other side.
“You’re always such a gentleman.” I sigh, and just might bat my eyelashes. He takes hold of my hand.
“You deserve a gentleman, Blue.”
That seems to be an understatement. During dinner he remained guarded. Despite no one around that we knew, he didn’t try to court my legs under the table, he didn’t hold my hand while we were eating, and we haven’t kissed since I arrived at his doorstep.
“Where are we going?” I attempt to shake the “insecure needy girl” thoughts from my head. It occurs to me I slid into this cab without question.
“To a club up here. I want to dance with you.”
Insecure, needy girl banished. Enter, Hell. Yes.
“Oh. Are we overdressed?” My memory holds visions of jeans, bedazzled tanks, and platform flip-flops when I think of “club” and “dancing” with Adrian in the same sentence. I again have to remind myself we’re in our late twenties in Boston, not teenagers in an underground bar that looks the other way at fake IDs.
“Even if we are, you look hot.” Adrian’s sentence is timed perfectly with the squealing breaks of our ride.
My heart has skipped every third beat since I got to his apartment. I’m staying the night with him, and making out will no longer do. The sound of the bass and the crowd humming from the door as we approach it has nothing on what’s going on below the belt of my dress.
Adrian nods once at the bouncer, and we’re granted unquestioned access to the foreplay inside the stone walls. He waves to some people I assume he knows, as he tears us through the crowd and onto the dance floor. He’s been quiet since dinner, and I’m no longer sure what the hell it is I’m doing here if he can’t even talk to me. I push the question aside, as his hands swallow my waist and move me in time with him.
After a half hour, Shakira and Pitbull’s song “Rabiosa” comes on. Our smiles high-five one another as we take our positions. In college, the lacrosse team was invited to a formal party hosted by Monica’s sorority. We were dating at the time and he took me, despite the hisses from some of the bitches of Delta Mu. He knew their game, and he wasn’t playing. A dance competition closed that evening, and we took first place.