I am starting to think he might not be gay.
A shiver runs down my spine and I can even feel the heat from his hand that is presently hovering over my arm despite my jacket being in the way.
"Here, let me take your jacket from you." He tugs at my jacket before I have enough time to unbutton the wool navy garment. He pulls a little too hard and I fall back into his chest.
"Whoa Morgana! Why don't we have dinner first before you try to attack me?" Jamie chuckles.
I manage to pull out of his grasp and straighten myself, then I get to work taking off my own coat.
"I wasn't attacking you; you pulled before I was ready. Let's clear something up right now Jamie. There has obviously been some sort of mistake with our living arrangement that I plan to sort out tomorrow at Orientation. I came here to work, and I am not letting anything get in my way or do anything that might jeopardize this opportunity. Is that clear?"
"Hazzah Morgana! Finally you are taking a step in the right direction." My Brain beams at me.
Jamie holds his hands up, his gaze widening. “Look, Morgana, I was only joking. I am just as serious as you. I'm sorry if I went too far. This has happened to me before. I guess with my name people think I am a girl, so I am stuck in this situation sometimes. We will talk to someone tomorrow together and try to straighten this out. No hard feelings." Jamie sticks out his hand and I reluctantly shake it, still weary of him. Men say things all the time, but don't always follow through.
This whole situation, having someone I am working with hit on me, reminds me of Henrik. Despite the whirlwind of the past few days, getting ready for the trip here, he has rarely been out of my thoughts. I miss him. Gazing up into Jamie’s soft eyes, I know Henrik would hate him. Funny, but this thought makes me smile.
"To make up for it, how about I take you out to dinner. My treat!" His finger goes into the air as he turns and heads to the kitchen to throw on his shirt, jacket, and put on his shoes.
"We need to eat anyway. Sure. Do you know any good places around here?" I shrug my jacket back on and walk toward the front door as he opens it.
"Not really. I'm from Los Angeles. Worked at the Mimir location in LA before getting into the program. This is actually my first time in New York, but I figured between the two of us we can find something." His face breaks into a lazy grin giving him a boyish appearance. He adjusts his faded jean jacket which is covering a vintage Rolling Stones tee shirt.
Once we have bolted up the apartment, which has six locks on the door, we take the elevator and are out on the street in no time. Walking a few blocks and taking in the neighborhood, we finally stop in an old alehouse that looks like it dates back to the seventeenth century. We grab a table next to an old wood burning stove and peruse our menus.
After the waitress, dressed in cut off jean shorts and a thick brown wool sweater, with a severe black bob haircut, takes our order, I glance around the bar. There is sawdust on the floor and old pictures and newspaper clippings line the wall. Pictures, some of old presidents, plaster every inch of the dark, wood paneled walls.
When the waitress brings our food, she explains how lucky we are that they just started serving food this past month. Before the place only served beer. Considering the food menu consists of only two options, a hamburger or a hotdog, I didn't think we were that lucky. I got the hamburger, which was average, and Jamie ordered the hot dog.
While eating, I get a strange sense someone is watching me, but every time I look around I only see the people at the bar facing the wall and some other tables where no one I recognize are deep in conversation. Yet, there is a scent in the air that warms me and has my mind filling with Henrik’s twitching lips just before he makes me bend over. I rub my forehead trying to shrug it off. It’s just exhaustion, nothing more.
"What's wrong," Jamie asks before washing down the last bite of his hot dog with the dark beer he ordered.
"Do you get an eerie feeling in here? I just feel like someone is watching me."
He pokes his head around, then shrugs. “No. Probably the time change, your body needs to adjust.”
"There is only one hour difference between Chicago and New York. I think I am fine."
Jamie takes out his wallet and throws some money on the table before he rises. “We should get back, then take a nap together, which might help your jet-lag.”
He says the words so fast I almost don't catch it. We are heading toward the door when I snap my head to him.
"What? I am not taking a nap with you," I say incredulously, disbelief at his line make my eyebrows furrow.