He drives us back to our building after dinner. My hand bumps his as we come out of the parking garage. He takes it in his and holds it the rest of the way. Just as we reach the front door, he tugs on my hand and pulls me closer to him, stealing a quick kiss and making my heart beat a little bit faster. I’m smiling up at him as we step through the doorway together. My eyes land on Joel at the security desk. I can’t help but notice his judgmental stare as his gaze lowers from our faces to our hands. I wonder if Jake has noticed that our security guard seems to have a problem with us dating.
“Is Joel ever not on duty?” I ask when we make it to the stairwell.
“He doesn’t have much of a life outside of work.”
“Still. It seems like a lot of hours for a guy his age to work. It’s a lot of hours for anyone, really.”
“He must like the overtime.”
When we reach my floor, he follows me to my apartment door.
“Normally this would be the part of the date where we have our first kiss,” he says.
“We kind of already did that.”
The corner of his mouth tilts up. His eyes wander from mine down to my lips. My body heats as I remember the way he came into my apartment and pushed me up against the wall. The way he took over my mouth with his, the way his body felt pressed against mine, the way my heart raced when I saw through his jeans how turned on he was. I can still feel the ache of wanting more. No one has turned me on like that in a very long time. I would probably try to move way too fast all over again if he kissed me like that now.
His fingers graze my arm, sending goosebumps over my skin. I’m about to ask him if he wants to come inside, but before I can, he tilts his head down and kisses me. He doesn’t do it with the same intensity as before, but his lips, warm against mine, leave me wanting more of him all the same.
“Goodnight, Naomi,” he says when he pulls away. My shoulders drop, the two words feeling like the most disappointing thing I’ve ever heard.
“Goodnight.” My voice comes out as a whisper that even I can barely hear.
I let myself inside. I don’t realize how worked up I am until I’m leaning against the other side of the door, catching my breath. It’s been a very long time since anyone has made my heart race the way he does. I’m not sure if anyone else ever has. Even so, I can’t help but think about the way my thoughts have been straying to Luca lately – even more now that I know he never got married. I don’t know why I’m allowing a guy I’ve never met to have such a hold on my thoughts. It feels like it’s out of my control. With this thought in mind, it’s probably for the best that Jake isn’t coming inside. As much as I want him, I know that I need to find a way to get Luca out of my head before I take things further with Jake.
ChapterNineteen
DRESSED TO IMPRESS
Iwake up sometime in the night feeling thirsty. I get up and tiptoe into the kitchen even though I live alone. I guess I don’t want to make too much noise on my downstairs neighbor’s ceiling. I turn on the kitchen light and pour myself a glass of water. As I’m taking a sip, my eyes wander to the stack of mail that I left on my countertop on Friday. I had been distracted with Luca’s letters, and then by the hallway picnic date with Jake, and never got around to looking at it.
I sort through it now, tossing the junk mail into the trash and putting bills in a separate pile. When I get to the last envelope, I pause. From the light pouring in from the living room, I can see that there’s no return address. My name and address are handwritten. I recognize the handwriting. I’ve been watching the evolution of this handwriting for almost twenty years. It’s startling to see a letter from Luca with my home address on it rather than the news station. This means that he knows where I live. It makes me wonder what else he knows about me.
I rip the envelope open and pull out the letter. It’s longer than the ones he usually sends.
Dear Naomi,
I waited until now to write again because I was hoping that you got my letter late and that’s why you didn’t say the magic word in your weather report. But you didn’t say it at all this week, and I have to admit that I’m pretty disappointed. Is it because you can’t deviate from your script, or have you lost interest in writing back to me? I guess it’s been two years since you’ve heard from me, so maybe the letters just aren’t as fun for you as they used to be. Maybe you’re even annoyed that I’m writing to you now.
Do you remember when I asked if we could be friends on Facebook? I think we were both juniors in high school. I never told you that I had already looked you up before I asked. I was planning on sending you a friend request, but I didn’t know how you would react, which is why I asked you first. I thought you were the most beautiful girl in the world. I wanted to know you outside of these letters, but you were so damn mean about not wanting to be my friend. Of all the mean letters you sent, that one was the first one that actually hurt me.
The second time you hurt me was when I invited you to my boot camp graduation and you didn’t show up. You probably thought it was a joke, but it wasn’t. I wanted you to be there. I guess you didn’t know that I was the only person there who didn’t have a family. I didn’t tell you that because I didn’t want you to feel sorry for me. I wanted you to come because you wanted to be there. Even after you rejected me in high school, I hoped that you would change your mind, and you would want to meet me in person.
I always wondered if you had looked me up on Facebook. I still wonder if you ever think about me when you’re not reading my letters or thinking of what to write back to me. I wonder if I’ve made as big an impact on your life as you have on mine.
You probably think I’m crazy, or maybe you think I’m creepy for saying all of this. Shit. Now that I’m rereading this letter, it’s definitely creepy, right? Although, it can’t be as creepy as some of the other letters I’ve sent. I haven’t even written anything mean.
I guess I can’t end a letter like that, so here goes: I hope that you accidentally wear an outfit the same color as the green screen behind you during your next weather report, and it looks like you’re just a decapitated head floating around the screen. Something like that would make your boring show a lot better.
Love,
Luca
I try to process everything I just read, and find myself reading the letter again. I remember when he invited me to his boot camp graduation. I still have that letter. I also remember thinking that it was a cruel joke since he had led me to believe that I wouldn’t be able to get on a plane. I had wished for just a moment that Luca really wanted me to come to his graduation. I might have gone if I thought that he was serious.
And now this. I stare at the letter, wondering what I’m supposed to do with it. I’ve put in a lot of effort to track him down, but after reading this letter, I know that it won’t be the same when I do find his address. Outsmarting him is supposed to be a moment of triumph for me. It’s not supposed to feel like … whatever this feels like.
I go back to bed and stare up at my ceiling. I have a couple more hours before I need to be up, but I know that I won’t be able to fall back asleep.
