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I’m fine.
It’s fine.
All is fine.
Elijah and I agree to meet at the brownstone at seven o’clock after work. Mrs. Choi will be gone by then. He’s never met her and she doesn’t have any idea who he really is. But still, I worry. Elijah doesn’t think we need to sneak around like we’re doing something nefarious. To which I reminded him that exchanging identities from a mere intern to an uber-rich-child-of-the-CEO-executive-training-intern was, indeed, nefarious. In fact, it was about as nefarious as one harebrained idea could get.
Why am I sweating so much?
And why is Elijah four minutes late? Was he caught and taken away in handcuffs to the nearest precinct? Or worse, kidnapped by the Korean mafia?
The knock on the door comes at seven-oh-five.
I rush to open it and freeze as I see Elijah’s face. He’s here. He’s safe.
And I’m oddly comforted by the fact. I sag against the doorframe, letting out a massive sigh of relief.
His eyes widen. “Are you okay?” he asks.
I drag the back of my hand across my forehead, wiping the moisture off on my shorts. It’s in these moments it makes sense to me why old-timey folks carry around handkerchiefs. “I sweat easily. It’s genetic. Once I start, there’s no stopping it. And I don’t want to use the air-conditioning in the house because the energy costs will skyrocket and it’ll bring attention onto my presence here as an interloper.”
He purses his lips, like he’s holding back a laugh, and nods once as if it all makes sense before entering the house.
“I brought us pizza. It was only a dollar a slice. Can you believe that? One dollar for an entire slice of pizza. Jason says we need to pat some of the oil off the top, but not too much that it dries it out. Where are the napkins?” He slides right past me in the doorway.
I wait for theooh’s andaah’s as he takes in the massive home.
Silence.
I turn around to find him exiting the kitchen with an apple in hand.
“I left the pizza on the kitchen counter for now. Hey, can you do me a favor and ask the housekeeper to stock some Asian pears and bring them to me at work? I went to some place called Whole Foods and they were trying to charge me five dollars for one. Do you know I only make fifteen dollars per hour in this internship? That’s twenty minutes’ work for a pear.”
“Maybe you shouldn’t be slipping a hundred-dollar bill to security guards then,” I remind him.
“You’re still on that? What, it wasn’t worth it?” he asks, a cocky smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.
We stare at each other. It’s like I can almost feel the heat from the other night, my back pressed against his front, his hand on my waist, just by memory alone.
I don’t answer because honestly, it was so worth it.
“Anyways, this is all gonna take some getting used to,” he says eventually. “I’ve already blown through most of the US dollars I brought with me to New York. And I’m pretty certain my pathetic paychecks aren’t gonna support my usual lifestyle.”
I nod in agreement.
“But seriously, you can use the air conditioner. Please don’t worry about the electricity costs. Make yourself at home here,” he says.
“We don’t ever use the air conditioner at home because, well, we worry about the electricity costs,” I admit.
“Well, then, promise me you’ll try to make yourselfcomfortablehere. I mean, if I’m gonna suddenly start calculating the costs of items, you might as well not be burdened by any financial implications this summer.”
It would be nice to not worry about money for once. But it’s all easier said than done. I’m still in Cinderella mode, waiting for the clock to strike midnight and suddenly have rats running around my feet. We’re in New York, after all.
But I give in this one time, walk over to the thermostat, and lower the temperature to let the A/C kick in.
Heaven.
“So, how’s it been for you so far?” I ask Elijah. He’s made himself comfortable on the pristine white couch in the sitting room that I have been too afraid to sit on and risk leaving a middle-class stain.
