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"Do you believe that?" Thomas asks, nodding toward the book.
"What?"
"That your dreams are a product of your subconscious?"
I nod. "It makes sense."
"So, how does it work when someone is the man of your dreams?"
This guy is smooth, I have to give him that. I smile. "I don’t know. How does it work? I don’t think such a man exists."
He laughs. It's unashamed, carefree, and genuine. "You’re something else, Nicole."
I don't know why that makes me blush again. I know I'm different than everyone else, from the way I see my
studies to the way I see men. When Thomas says it, though, he makes it sound like a compliment.
I hook my hair behind my ears with my fingers. His eyes are on me again, intense as before, and I feel self-conscious.
"Where do you study?" he asks.
"NYU," I say. "I’m moving into clinical psychology now. You know, hospital work."
"Why?" he asks. There's no double meaning, no pretense or judgment behind that question. He wants to know.
"There are too many people that need help and not enough who want to help them."
"Help them with what?" he asks.
"With what they’re struggling with. Their pasts, their minds. With being trapped. I believe you understand that."
He nods and his expression changes to something I don't understand.
"I do," he says in a soft voice.
What is it about this man? He's intriguing beyond anyone I’ve ever met. He's straightforward but also a riddle, all at the same time.
He stretches his arm out and bends it at the elbow to look at the time.
"I have to go," he says and stands up.
My stomach sinks. I hadn’t wanted him to sit next to me. Now, I don't want him to leave.
"Can I get your number?" he asks. "If you’ll let me, I can take you out somewhere, and we can argue the reasons for our existence."
I smile. He's insufferable and irresistible.
"All right," I say. I reach for a napkin and write my name and number on it. I hand it to him. He grins again, a smile that can mean a thousand things.
He folds it and puts it in his pocket.
"Nice to meet you, Nicole, the psychologist," he says and walks away. I watch him all the way to the door. He doesn't look over his shoulder once before he disappears.
Thomas
I unlock my apartment door and step inside, flicking on the lights to the kitchen. I put the napkin with Nicole’s number on it on the counter. I might call her. I might not.
This girl is different. I like them when they're different. There's nothing like a challenge to spice things up. How long would it take me to get her into bed with me? About the time it would take me to get her to shut up, if I had to guess.
