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Mon étoile.
She was a bright star in my abyss of anger and bitterness, guiding me out of the darkness of my misery.
I sighed.
Having something you craved so close to you but not being able to touch it made these walks bittersweet. It was Friday, so I would have to spend two painful days without seeing her. How could I spend more time with her?
Fuck it.
I grabbed her gloved hand and tugged on it. “This way.” I turned a corner onto another bustling street filled with even more lights and decorations.
She let out a yelp in surprise but followed without struggling. “Where are we going?”
“You’ll see,” I said with a stupid grin plastered on my face.
I kept her hand in mine and realized how natural it felt. Even though I couldn’t feel her skin or her body heat, a warmth spread through my soul.
She made no effort to take her hand back as we walked a few more blocks and turned down another street, finally arriving at my intended destination.
She let go of my hand, clasped both hands over her mouth, and gasped. “Oh, my gawwwd. It’s stunning.”
It was as if some giant elf had puked up every shiny and glittery thing that existed in this world right into Rockefeller Center. Almost every surface had a twinkling light or sparkle or bauble on it. I didn’t care about the mega tree with a huge sparkly star on top of it. I didn’t care about the giant snowflake light show moving over the sides of the buildings.
I only cared about Laura. I gazed at her face. It was the only beautiful thing I wanted to look at. The awe in her eyes was more beautiful than any trinket.
We explored the area, and she took the lead. I followed her wherever she wanted to go. At one point, she handed me her phone and had me take a picture of her with the tree in the background.
Then, without thinking, I put my arm around her shoulder and took a selfie of us. She leaned in for the pic, and I stopped myself from smelling her hair.
I didn’t have to force a smile for the camera. It was already plastered on my stupid face.
She scooted away from me, averting her eyes, her cheeks turning even pinker. Finally, she pointed to the skating rink. “Let’s go watch.”
We spent some time looking at the ice skaters and laughing at the ones who fell on their asses. Her phone dinged, and she took it out of her purse. Taking her gloves off, she tapped on the screen, replying to a text.
Who was texting her at this hour? “Someone checking up on you?”
She peeked at me from beneath her eyelashes while the corner of her lips tugged slightly. “It’s Kenny, checking to see if I got home safely.” She put the phone back in her pocket. “He needs to stop worrying about me so much. I hope he finds someone who’ll make all his dreams come true.”
I stamped down the jealousy I felt at the mention of his name. “What are his dreams?”
“Rescue the damsel in distress and lavish her with gifts, I think.” She shrugged. “I’m not even sure he knows what he wants yet.”
What was wrong with a man wanting to spoil the woman he loved? Not that I wanted her to be with Kenny. But what if I… “You never wanted to be rescued?”
“I don’t dohelpless.”
And that was one of the things I fucking admired about her the most. She was brave and strong, ready to take on anything. That first night I walked her to her car was proof of that when she faced her attacker head-on. But there was a difference between being a helpless woman who needed a man to shelter her from the entire world versus being a strong, capable woman who allowed a man to protect her from danger.
I think she was learning that difference. As was I. “No one would ever accuse you of being helpless.”
I didn’t want this evening to end. I wanted to keep exploring the city. Take her out to supper.
I fantasized about throwing her on my bed, ripping her clothes off, and fucking her hard until I made her come at least three times.
Instead, I escorted her through the city streets back to her car, thankful my winter jacket was long enough to cover the raging hard-on in my pants. “Well, good night, Ms. Bloom.”
She lingered in the parking lot, her chest heaving under her bulky coat, looking up at me with fuck-me eyes.
