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Brandon and I sat awkwardly, suddenly finding things like the subway map and the Spanish ads for laser hair removal incredibly interesting. We looked everywhere but at the couple and each other—I knew that one glance would make me break into fits.
The girl kicked one leg in her passion, hitting Brandon hard enough that he knocked into me too. “Ouch,” he mouthed at me. I bit my lip to keep from laughing out loud. When she kicked him again, he scooted several inches toward me, allowing the couple to position themselves almost horizontally on the bench.
“Skylar,” Brandon whispered.
I hid my grin. “What?” I whispered back.
“Do you think they need a condom? Maybe some assistance?”
I stifled a giggle and shook my head.
“Then do you think you could move down a little bit so I don’t have an accidental threesome?”
I chuckled into my mittens and slid farther down the seats. Two stops later, after the couple stumbled off, Brandon and I both burst out laughing as soon as the doors closed.
“Holy shit! I thought they were going to make a baby right there!” My stomach hurt from laughing so hard.
“I think I might have gotten herpes.” Brandon was also red in the face. “At least now I know why you like the train.”
I smacked him lightly on the shoulder. “I thinkyouliked it. You should have offered to pay forhersex pad. She probably would have gone for it.”
Brandon rolled his eyes and shook his head. “One day you’re going to forgive me for that. If it’s the last thing I do, I’ll convince you that I’m a decent guy.”
By the end of his statement, he wasn’t laughing anymore, and his wide blue gaze transfixed me with its vulnerability and kindness. The train rumbled. We stared at each other until I forced myself to remember the way he’d talked to me. I renewed my study of the subway ads.
Brandon sighed. “This is frustrating. I’m not an asshole, Skylar. I still can’t believe I had the stones to ask you that.”
“So, why did you?”
I was curious now and wanted to believe I’d get a real answer. This guy, the one who could laugh at himself and who wanted to see a woman home safe, seemed like a good man. Not the type who would turn women into crude objects.
He shrugged, suddenly focused on picking an imaginary piece of lint off his pants. “I…it’s hard to explain.”
“Try.”
He gave me a look I was starting to recognize—the one that said,You’re not going to let it go, are you?I raised my eyebrows expectantly. No, I definitely was not.
He sat forward, talking down to the ground while he balanced his forearms over his knees. “All right, fine. It’s been a while, if you have to know the truth. The last woman I was with seriously…well, it was pretty clear by the end she was only interested in my money. Anyone I’ve been with since has either been a one-night thing or nothing at all. Then I meet you. I really want…well, I guess I figured that I should probably give you what you’d want from the get-go. It didn’t even occur to me you wouldn’t want any of it. I’m sorry, Skylar. More than you know.”
My heart squeezed at his words. They weren’t flowery, but the slow cadence of them and the way his voice broke over the word “more” eroded my suspicion. I hadn’t stopped to imagine what he must have thought of me, an intern succumbing to his advances. He was the holy grail of legal and business connections in Boston, and probably a lot of eligible bachelor pools too. Why wouldn’t he have thought I had my own angle?
I touched him on the shoulder, but before I could reply that all was forgiven, the conductor announced our stop. The subway car jerked to a halt. I stood and pulled my bag over my shoulder.
“This is it,” I said as the doors opened. “Come on, Casanova. You can keep apologizing on the walk home.”
* * *
We chatted easilydown Ditmas Avenue. The truth was, Brandon was really good company. He was witty and smart, but also down-to-earth and surprisingly easy to talk to. By the time I stopped in front of a small nightclub, my side hurt from laughing so much. I turned eagerly toward the entrance, where the strains of a jazz group hummed from within.
Brandon looked at me in confusion. “You live in a jazz club?”
I rolled my eyes, but shivered in the cold. “Yeah, I live in a jazz club. The vinyl seats make for a great night’s sleep.” I turned to the doorman, who looked bored on his stool. “Hey, Charlie.”
The big man shivered slightly beneath his tight black beanie and massive coat, but he managed to conjure a smile for me. “Hiya, sweetheart.” He accepted my quick peck on his cheek. “They just started their second set. He know you’re coming tonight?”
I shook my head. “No, I thought I’d surprise him.” I pulled off my large wool scarf and handed it to him. “Here. You look like you’re freezing.”
Charlie tied the scarf awkwardly around his neck, caring little that it was bright red and belonged to a girl about a third his size. “Thanks, sweetie. It’s colder than a bitch out here tonight.”
