“Okay. I’m going to add ‘liar’ to your list of flaws, because you’re obviously trying to hide the fact that you have a bowling alley up there.”
I expect him to use that as an opportunity to invite me up to his apartment, but he doesn’t. He smirks. “Fine. Believe whatever you want.”
The sun is up by the time we finish eating. He grabs the check before I have a chance and pays for our meal at the register. The same waitress cashes us out. I watch him as he signs the receipt. His biceps bulge out of the short sleeves of his T-shirt. His shirt isn’t tight, but I can see the shape of his muscles beneath it. My eyes wander up to his and I realize that he’s watching me as I check him out. My face flushes. I wonder how long ago he finished signing the receipt.
The waitress hands him a copy of the receipt, then looks at me and winks. I raise an eyebrow, wondering what that was about. I notice him frowning at the receipt as he steps away from the counter. I sneak a glance and see that she wrote her phone number on it. I’m not sure whether it’s appropriate to laugh. I hold it in, pretending I don’t notice so that I can see what he’ll do. Without a word, he wrinkles the receipt into a ball and tosses it into the trash can by the front door.
“Ready to go?” he asks me.
I resist the urge to look back at the waitress to see her reaction. I figure she’s had enough embarrassment for one morning. We step outside and head across the street toward our building. As soon as we reach the sidewalk, he says, “Wait. Naomi.”
For a moment, I think that he’s about to comment on what just happened a minute ago. Instead, he grabs onto my shoulders, steering me away from the edge of the sidewalk so that he’s between me and the road.
“There. That’s better.”
I frown. “Excuse me?”
He points at the road with his thumb as he starts walking again. I stare at the road, then look back at him, confused, before I realize what he’s doing. I take a few quick steps to catch up with him. I think it’s cute that he’s following such an old-fashioned rule where the man blocks the woman from traffic. Even so, I can’t help myself.
“What are you protecting me from?” I ask. “Getting splashed by a puddle?” I look at the dry road, then back at him. The corner of his mouth quirks up.
“You never know when a car will veer off the road and onto the sidewalk,” he says.
“Oh. I see. And you think you’re strong enough to stop a moving vehicle from trampling both of us.”
He frowns, thinking about my response. “You don’t think I could?”
I shrug, stealing another glance at him. “Maybe. You felt pretty hard when I bumped into you this morning.”
He snaps his head in my direction, making me realize what I just said. My face heats. I hope that my sunburn is enough to disguise my blush.
“Oh God. That came out wrong.” I slap my hand over my face. “Solid. I meant that your body was solid when I touched you and … none of this is coming out right, is it?”
I peek through my fingers to see that he’s laughing at me. He pulls my hand off my face.
“You should stop while you’re ahead,” he says.
“I don’t feel like I’m ahead.”
He smirks. “If either one of us should be embarrassed, it’s me. You just accused me of…” He glances down at his waist, then looks back up at me.
“Can we just pretend I never said that?”
“Not a chance.” He opens the front door of our building and lets me go in ahead of him.
Joel is still sitting at the security desk. He tilts his newspaper down as we come through the door. His brow furrows slightly, but he says nothing as he goes back to reading. I head toward the stairwell, and Jake follows.
We reach the third floor. I hesitate, my hand on the door that opens to the hallway. He still has one more floor to climb, but he stops next to me. He looks at the staircase that continues up to the fourth floor, then returns his attention to me. He leans against the door so that I can’t open it. I keep my hand on the doorknob. The stairwell somehow feels smaller when he’s standing right in front of me. I’m not sure how he managed to step closer without me noticing. Maybe it’s because I can’t take my eyes off his lips.
He looks indecisive, like he’s waiting for something, and I realize that I think I know what it is. He’s standing close enough that all I have to do is raise up on my toes to reach him. I hold the back of his neck, pulling his face just a little bit closer to mine, and then our lips are together. His mouth is warm. I feel weightless, and like my body is too much for my legs to hold up at the same time. His hands land on my back, trailing down to my waist. He steps in closer until I can feel the heat from his body, and then he’s holding me against him, our bodies pressed together, like he somehow knows that I’m afraid I might fall. His heart beats against my chest. I wonder if he can feel mine too.
Our lips separate for a moment so that I can catch my breath, and even then, he doesn’t stop kissing me. His lips make a trail across my cheek, down to my jawbone. His stubble scratches my face, and I find myself imagining how it would feel on other parts of my body. I turn my head, searching for his lips, and then they’re on mine again. I pull at his lower lip with my teeth. He tightens his hold around me.
I don’t want to let go of him. I could live right here, wrapped up in his arms, and probably die happily. I forget that we’re standing in the stairwell until I hear a door opening above us and then footsteps coming down the stairs. He separates his lips from mine and takes a step back. I catch myself against the wall, because I’m still not sure if my legs can support me. He has this way of making gravity feel all wrong.
He watches me, his chest rising and falling heavily, neither of us turning to look at the neighbor who passes us on their way down to the lobby.
“You probably want to go catch up on sleep after that plane ride,” he says, his voice husky.
