“I can’t believe I left my keys in that cab! I’m so pissed at myself.”
I was standing outside my building near Columbia at midnight. The doorman was MIA, the super wasn’t answering his phone, and the streets were deserted. But it was fine. I mean, I was a New Yorker. I was tough. I wasn’t scared. But I also didn’t want to call my brother and ride uptown to get a spare key.
“Hey, sexy. Lookin’ good.” A man walked by, checking me out. He slowed a half dozen feet away. “You up for a party tonight?”
I looked down at my clothes. My leather jacket was short and so was my skirt, but the black tights and tall, flat black boots did more than keep my legs warm in the cool night air—they kept me from looking like a hooker.
“I’m waiting for my boyfriend,” I told him. “He’s right around the corner.”
The man eyed me for another beat, mumbled something that sounded like “lying bitch,” and resumed his swagger down the street.
I pulled out my phone and hovered over Creighton’s number, but I didn’t want to be the little sister needing assistance. I was working on proving myself as independent, and this definitely wasn’t going to help my case.
My thumb scrolled up a few more numbers to hover over Cav’s. He said he lived right around the corner, and something told me he was a night owl like me.
Fuck it. I tapped on his name, thinking a call would probably do me more good than a text.
He answered on the first ring. “What’s going on?”
The sound of shouting in the background made me pause before I responded. “Uh, is now a bad time?”
“Hold on one sec.” He must have moved away from the source of the noise, because it died after a few moments. “Sorry, there’s a fight on in the bar, and people are gettin’ rowdy. What can I do for you, baby girl?”
Heat bloomed in my belly and a smile stretched across my face. I loved when he called me that. I’d never understood pet names, but for some reason his made me feel special.
“Are you anywhere near my place?”
“What’s wrong?” His tone shifted into high alert.
“I left my keys in a cab on the way home from Tracey’s apartment, and it’s gone and my doorman is gone and the super is gone and some guy tried to pick me up like I was a hooker. I’m trying not to freak out, but I’m kinda freaking out. I don’t want to call my brother. He might still be in China.”
“Whoa, calm down, baby. I’m literally across the street—” He paused for a beat. “And I can see you from where I’m standing. You’re safe. I’ll be there in a second. Don’t hang up until you see me.”
He can see me? He had to be at Lennon’s, the shitty bar that my crowd avoided most nights because there were too many rough-looking regulars who didn’t take kindly to students trying to invade their space.
I scanned the street and within moments, Cav appeared beneath a streetlight. Relief swept over me. “I see you.”
“Good. Hang up.”
I did as he ordered and waited for him to get closer.
“Well, that was convenient,” I said with a smile on my face. My moment of panic disappeared as soon as I knew he was near.
Cav shrugged, his canvas jacket unzipped and revealing a black thermal. His jeans were ripped, and his black boots were scuffed. I thought of this as the Cav Uniform because he’d worn something similar every time we’d gone out.
And by every time, I meant the five different “dates” we’d had. An amazing Polish restaurant I hadn’t known existed, hot dogs in the park while we walked and talked for hours, playing checkers at a hole-in-the-wall coffee house, and twice watching old movies at a ratty theater where we shared popcorn . . . and a little more. Except he still hadn’t rounded third base. Recounting all this in my head made me stop worrying about getting into my apartment and start worrying about whether I was defective on the female front.
“You know I don’t live far,” he replied.
Yes, I knew this. He’d told me a couple of times, but had been vague on the address and had never invited me over. Actually, he didn’t accept any invites into my apartment either, only walking me to my door and disappearing into the night. Yep, I was defective.
“Locked yourself out, eh?” He jerked his chin toward the building.
I rocked back on my heels, my hands in the pockets of my jacket. “I’m an idiot. I was in such a hurry to get out of that cab because the cabbie was skeeving me out—and now my keys are just chilling on the seat.” I pulled a hand out of my pocket and pointed at it. “These pockets suck. I lose stuff all the time. Basically, I suck, and it’s been a sucky night.”
“Where’s the guy who talked to you?” Cav’s head was turning, searching the dark streets.
“Long gone, hopefully.”