“Damn straight. I’m like a superhero. The Prolactinator.”
This man had the uncanny ability to make me laugh in the middle of an argument. I snorted as I leaned over to clean up my sandwich from the floor. “Okay, Prolactinator. How about you use your superpowers to help clean up this mess?”
After the lunch debacle was straightened, I offered to help Drew unpack his boxes. He had a cordless drill in the first one we opened, and he hung some of his fancy-framed degrees while I unwrapped things and cleaned them off. Our conversation was light and easy until he asked me the question I always dreaded answering.
“So you never told me the other day, what brought you to New York?”
“It’s a long story.”
Drew looked at his watch. “I have twenty minutes until my next consult. Shoot.”
For a brief moment, I considered making up a story so I didn’t have to tell the truth. But then I figured, this guy has seen me at my worst—he helped me keep out of jail and witnessed firsthand that I could be sold the proverbial Brooklyn Bridge in the form of Park Avenue real estate. So I went with honesty.
“My first year of college, I wasn’t sure what I wanted to major in. I took a Psychology 101 class, and the professor was amazing. But he was also a drunk who often missed classes or came in with ten minutes left in the lecture. He had a TA who was from New York but working on his doctorate at the University of Oklahoma, and he wound up teaching a lot of the course. The TA was Baldwin.”
Drew dumped a pile of files into a cabinet and shut it, turning to face me. “So you moved to New York to be near this Baldwin guy? I thought you said the other day he didn’t return the feelings you have?”
“He doesn’t. Baldwin and I became good friends over the next four years. He had a girlfriend he lived with—an art history major who modeled on the side.” I rolled my eyes thinking of Meredith—she was so full of herself. “He stayed at the college to teach after he finished his doctorate, and then decided to move back to New York to start his own practice and teach here. We kept in touch while I did my graduate work, and he pretty much helped me write my thesis over Skype for a year.”
“Are we getting to sex or something good in this story soon? Because Baldwin’s starting to bore the shit out of me.”
Drew was next to me, opening the last box, and I shoved at his arm. “You’re the one who wanted to hear the story.”
“I thought it would be more interesting,” he teased with a cocky smile.
“Anyway. I’ll sum up so I don’t put you to sleep—”
Drew interrupted. “No worries. I’m not sleepy. Didn’t masturbate this morning.”
“Thanks for sharing that. Do you want me to finish or not?”
“Of course. I don’t know why, but I’m anxious to hear what’s wrong with Baldwin.”
“Why do you assume something’s wrong with him?”
“Gut feeling.”
“Well, you’re wrong. There’s nothing wrong with Baldwin. He’s a great guy who’s extremely intelligent and cultured.”
Drew put his hands on his hips and stopped unpacking to give me his full attention. “You said he had a girlfriend for four years. I take it they broke up?”
“Yes. They broke up right before he left to come back to New York.”
“And he didn’t make a move on you, knowing you were in love with him?”
“How do you know I was in love with him?”
He looked at me like the answer was obvious. “Were you?”
“Yes. But…I didn’t tell you that.”
“You’re easy to read.”
I sighed. “Why is it so easy for you to see it, but Baldwin seems to be clueless?”
“He ain’t clueless. He knows. But for one reason or another, he isn’t letting you know he knows.”
It was pretty amazing that Drew had zeroed in on something I’d suspected for a long time. I’d always felt like Baldwin knew about my feelings for him, even though I’d never voiced them. And part of me believed Baldwin returned some of those feelings, even though he’d never acted on them. Which is why I’d decided to make the first move—literally—and I moved to New York. Somehow I’d gotten it into my head that since he was single now, the time was right. But all I’d succeeded in doing was torturing myself, as he brought different dates home a few nights a week.
“I thought if I moved to New York, maybe it would be our time.”
“He’s single now?”
“He’s not dating anyone seriously, no. Although it seems like he’s been through half of the women in New York over the last few months. He comes home with a different woman almost every week. The newest one is Rachel.” I rolled my eyes.
“You live with this guy?”
“No. I sublet the apartment next door to him while his neighbor is teaching in Africa for a year.”
“Let me get this straight. He walks women by the apartment you live in and has never acknowledged that he knows how you feel about him.”
“It’s my fault. I’ve still never told him how I feel.”