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Well, I did once. Earlier this year. I was at one of Leah’s college parties on the NYU campus. I’d just broken up with Chris Grand. He was my first ‘real’ boyfriend. We dated for three months, but I was painfully bored. He was the kind of guy who’d leave flowers and chocolate on my doorstep on his way to hang out with his friends instead of actually spending time with me. He did all the trademark ‘boyfriend’ things, but none of it felt real. It was flat. Passionless. He kissed me the same way every time we were together. It was a good kiss, but it was the same kiss, over and over again.
And that’s as far as it ever went.
I’m not sure he even wanted to sleep with me. He never tried. I don’t think I wanted him to, anyway.
But at twenty-two, I was starting to worry I was missing out. Everyone else was either dating or going home with strangers. They always looked so enamored with each other, like they couldn’t wait to rip each other’s clothes off. And they seemed so free.
Chris never looked at me like that.
So, that night at the party, when Jarrett Marshall asked to buy me a drink, I said yes. He was tall, dark, and mysterious. He leaned in when he spoke to me, brushing his lips against my hair. He looked at me like he wanted to devour me. No one had ever looked at me that way before. So, when he took my hand and pulled me up the stairs to his room, I forgot everything else and went eagerly.
We had sex. It was my first time. I didn’t tell him that, but I think he knew. He told me I was sexy. He tore my clothes off like he couldn’t wait a second longer.
He stared at the headboard the whole time.
I wanted him to look at me. I wanted him to see me. But he didn’t. Once he got off, he rolled away and pulled his pants back on.
And then he told me to leave.
“You should go back downstairs. I’m tired.”
Those words still burn a hole in my heart.
It wasn’t anything like I imagined. There’d been heat when he kissed me. And I craved that. But it was empty. Pointless. Painful.
That night, I followed Jarrett to his room because I was trying to prove something to myself. But this time, as much as I hate to admit it, I actually want Kai to buy me this drink.
Is this the kind of “right guy” feeling Leah told me about earlier?
It's terrifying.
“What would you like?” Kai asks, leaning against the bar and pulling me back from my memories. His green eyes hold mine with intent, and I swallow nervously, forgetting the names to any of the drinks.
As the seconds tick by, I lick my lips and begin to panic, realizing I’m at a complete loss for words. But when I look down at the empty glass in my hand, it finally clicks. “A mojito, please.”
“You got it.” He signals for the bartender and places my order.
I set my empty glass on the bar and briefly rest my elbow there. But the surface is awkwardly high for me, so I pull it back down and clasp my hands together anxiously. I don’t even know how to be a human in his presence. This is bad.
“So, how long have you lived in the city?” he asks, casually leaning his elbow on the perfectly-proportioned bar next to him.
The bartender passes me my mojito and I raise my glass to Kai. “Thank you for this.”
He grins and nods, lifting his glass to mine. There’s a quiet ‘clink’ as we toast, and then I take a tentative sip. “Three years, now. I moved here for school and stuck around to pursue a career.”
He brings his own drink down from his lips. “Do you like it?”
I shrug my shoulders. “Yeah, but it’s so competitive. I’m a barista to make ends meet.”
Kai nods. “I know how that goes. I waited tables for four years before acting started paying the bills.”
I watch his lips move as he speaks, wondering if they are as soft as they look. I take another drink. “Do you like Chicago?” I bravely let my eyes meet his again.
It’s his turn to shrug. “It’s not New York. But the industry is thriving there.”
“Well, maybe I should have considered Chicago,” I suggest with a smile, feeling my nerves relax slightly. This is just normal, casual conversation. I can handle this.
“You know, you’re doing just fine, too,” he encourages. “Off-Off-Broadway is still Broadway. You’re getting your name out there. It doesn’t happen overnight.” He shifts his weight to his other foot, inching just a bit closer to me. “Besides, you’re probably younger than me anyway. You definitely look it.” He eyes me closely. “How old are you, if you don’t mind me asking?”
