“Thanks!” Ollie says. “She’s a famous dancer!”
“Shut up,” I whisper into Ollie’s neck.
“I believe it!” the man calls. “She’s great.”
To be clear: I am not great, but Ollie can make anyone appear that way.
He spins me around again as the driver calls, “Have a good night!” I hear the car engine speeding away, taking the music with it.
“I love this city,” Ollie murmurs.
My heart feels open as I finally meet his eyes. My brain is trying to absorb everything: the way his lips felt and the warmthof the city and the music I can still hear in my head. The faint, enticing woodsy scent of him. I put one hand gently on his shoulder.
The thought flashes through my head that for the first time since Nick, I want to drag a man somewhere that we can be alone, exploring each other for hours. But we don’t have hours. We have no time at all.
He gently lowers his hand down my side and then threads his fingers through mine. We turn together to continue our walk. My whole body is vibrating like the subways rumbling below us and the buses idling on the corner. We say nothing at all for the last few blocks as he walks me home, holding hands like we’re teenagers. When we arrive at my door, he kisses my hand and slowly lets it go. Another chivalrous act that shouldn’t work—that wouldn’t work if I thought it was anything but sincere—but I sense that he means it, and it makes me swoon inside.
I walk up to the door of my building and look back to see that he is still there, still handsome, still watching me intensely. The moon is out tonight, giving his hair a faint blue halo against the greasy glow of bodegas and the hazy green of my building’s lobby lights. In his suit, his hair disheveled and his eyes dark, he looks like a romantic hero.
I walk back to him and kiss him one more time.
He grins at me. “So how was your date?” he asks softly.
I smile. “It was nice.”
I can still hear his low laughter as I turn and enter the door.
