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“That I want you.” My lips are on his chin, peppering his jaw, before moving up to his lips. I lift my hips to him, letting him know what I want, and how I want it.
Chapter Twenty-three
Landon
THE UBER TO HER SISTER’S apartment feels longer than the thirty-seven minutes it was supposed to take. On my app it says we have six more minutes until we arrive at the building on West Thirty-fourth Street. I was going to take the subway, but this felt less chaotic. When I got home from my shift, I had a text from Nora with her sister’s address, telling me to meet her there at eight. She didn’t go into any further details. Just address, time, and a smiley face.
Nora was shy this morning when she left. She kissed me and whispered how much fun she had with me, but Hardin and Tessa were there, so she didn’t say much else.
I have a feeling she wanted to get there before me for a reason. Maybe she wanted to talk to her sister privately first. I won’t know what exactly I’m walking into until I cross the threshold of the Manhattan apartment. During the ride, I text Tessa twice, but she doesn’t reply. I’m sure Hardin has her otherwise occupied.
I glance down at my phone again and do a text check-in with my mom and Ken. I don’t mention my plans for the night. I don’t need to stir the pot any more than I already have, and I don’t want to give our parents any more table gossip than they’ve already got. I’m meeting Nora’s sister, so I’m sure word will get back to my mom sooner or later anyway.
“Is this it?” my shaggy-haired driver asks. His turn signal is on again, and I hope the street isn’t a one-way this time. I think he’s used to driving in Brooklyn, not Manhattan. This intersection is busy; we’re between Ninth and Tenth Avenues somewhere. I haven’t spent much time in Manhattan since I moved here. Now I get why locals don’t spend a lot of time near all the tourist attractions.
My driver repeats himself and finally turns down his radio. Apparently he really, really loves listening to Linkin Park. I wasn’t sure anyone was left in the world who still played their Hybrid Theory album, but this fateful Uber ride proved me wrong. That album came out when I was in elementary school, but liking Linkin Park was a staple of being cool during my youth. Something I wasn’t, but when wide-leg JNCO pants were a thing, I tried my best. I even wore a wallet chain.
Oh, man, I’m glad there was no social media in those days. If I had a Facebook or Twitter back then, there would be too many leftovers of my wannabe-grunge days. To this day, I can’t stand the smell of lemons because I spent the summer spraying the ends of my hair with my mom’s Sun In. I have a feeling that my driver had his own relationship with Sun In.
I glance out the window and read the all-capital white letters on the black awning in front of the building on our left: 408 WEST THIRTY-FOURTH STREET. “Yeah. I guess so.” Here we go . . .
I climb out of the car and straighten my shirt. I went for a simple, nonthreatening look today. All-black. The shirt is a little tighter than I would have liked, but that’s what I get for shopping online and guessing at my size. It’s not too snug, though; I think it looks fine.
Well, I hope it does.
As I get closer to the doorman, he waves at me. He’s waiting by the entrance, sitting perched on a stool. He looks familiar, like a cartoon character or someone from a movie. When I approach him, I notice just how short he is. His little body is round, and his nose is a tiny bulb covered in broken capillaries.
I brush my fingers over the manicured bushes lining the front of the brick building. Even the outside of this place looks expensive. I pick a small pink flower and toss it back. Why did I do that? Is it a weird impulse to pull a flower from its soil and rip it off? I can’t even count the number of times I’ve done that without thinking. Am I like some secret sociopath who loves to rip flowers out by their roots and toss them back into the dirt?
Am I overthinking this?
Probably.
The doorman and I exchange simple pleasantries, and then he asks who I’m here to see. As he calls up to Nora’s sister, I look around the inside of the building, which reminds me of a hospital. White walls, shiny surfaces, and that clean like Pine-Sol and artificial aromas. It’s nice, but the
