I reach one arm behind me, hooking it around his neck, holding his head to me, while my other hand wraps around him where he’s hard and heavy, and I feel him, silk over steel. He groans against my skin when I squeeze and start to move my hand over his length.
“Open your eyes, Liza,” he whispers in my ear, nibbling on my earlobe. “I want you to watch me while I make you feelso good.”
“Oh, God,” I moan in absolute delight. I look into his dark eyes in the foggy mirror as he roughly pushes my jeans down and kisses my neck.
I watch myself in the reflection, eyes clouded with lust, and suddenly, everything stops. My hand flies to my neck when I realize it’s bare.
“Wait, Matt. Stop,” I say urgently, my heart racing from fear now.
“What’s wrong? What did I do?” he asks, concerned, loosening his hold around me.
“My—my necklace. Where is it?” I crouch on the bathroom floor and start going through our clothes, shaking them, hoping to God I hear the sound of metal hitting bathroom tile because I cannot have lost that necklace.
“Your necklace?” His confusion is irritating me. Rationally, I know that his mind is still on what we were doing, and he’s probably wondering why I stopped suddenly over a piece of jewelry, but I need him to snap out of it.
“My necklace, Matt!” I say desperately, adrenaline flooding my body. “My dad gave it to me right before he died. Where is it? I never take it off!” I can feel the tears coming.
“Shit,” he says quickly, pulling on his jeans while I crawl, topless, all over the bathroom floor, looking under the towel mat. “I don’t remember seeing it tonight, Liza. Let me see if it’s by the entrance.” He walks away, and I sit on the bathroom floor, putting my hands in my face as I start to cry.
No.
IPULLthe collar of my jacket up to cover my ears from the biting October wind. It seems to be getting colder and colder every day now, but I can’t say that I mind. Fall is my favorite season, and New York wears it incredibly well.Almostas nicely as Boston, in my opinion.
I probably should have taken a cab from work, but I thought I would give myself extra time to mentally prepare before seeing Vinny tonight for dinner at his house.
To be honest, I was surprised by the invite. Vinny and I are usually more “Let’s grab a beer somewhere” kind of people—not the dinner-party type. But I guess that just goes to show how much we’ve changed, how much we’ve matured, since med school. Although, if I’m being 100% honest, it sometimes feels like I’m playing a game, like I’m pretending to be a grown-up.
Does everyone feel this way, or is it just me?
Maybe it’s because I’m not settled yet—professionally or personally.
Professionally, I’m just starting my career trajectory, having only just recently finished my fellowship. This new job is great, but it still feels weird taking the lead on patients, making the final calls on treatment.
Personally…I’m into my friend’s sister, and there’s nothing I can do about it. I want to ask the universe why it wouldn’t just let me fall for someone less complicated, but then again, when has love ever been simple for anyone?
As per usual, any thought of Liza makes my stomach churn from nerves, making me incredibly anxious. The last time I saw her was early Sunday morning when I left her apartment to go into the hospital for my shift. I wished I could’ve stayed longer, but there was no way I could skip work.
I had held her as she cried herself to sleep that night after spending hours upon hours looking for the necklace her dad gave her. She admitted to being too upset during her shower before we went out to dinner to notice if she still had it, so we had no ideawhenit had gone missing.
We tore her apartment apart, checked the U-Haul and the front of the building, called the restaurant to see if anyone had found it, and retraced our steps from there and back. And it was nowhere. At around three am, we called it quits, Liza in tears. We concluded that it must have fallen off at some point during the move, probably catching on something she was lifting and was too distracted to notice.
She said she would keep looking the next day, and I said I was sure it would turn up, but we both secretly knew it wouldn’t—it was just too painful for her to admit out loud or have anyone say it.
I miss her and am dying to see her, but she’s grown distant, replying to my texts with one- or two-word answers (Yes, No, Not tonight, Maybe, I’m Okay). It’s been almost a week since that night, and I made the decision this morning that if I can’t get a real response out of her or get her to call me back, I’m just going to show up at her place. I get that she needs space, and I’m trying to respect it, but honestly, I’m scared that she’s isolating herself—not just from me, but from everyone around her, too. I want to see if Vinny mentions something first, though. If he’s concerned about her, then I won’t take it personally and will go check up on her. If he thinks she’s fine, then…well, I guess it really would be about me.
Sigh.
I just need to get through this fucking dinner.
I reach Vinny’s building and ask him to buzz me up. The building doesn’t have a doorman, but the lobby is spacious, well-lit, and decorated with minimalistic modern touches—a far cry from the dump we used to live in six years ago.
I ride the elevator all the way up to the twelfth floor and ring the doorbell to his apartment. I start removing the scarf from around my neck, and make a mental note to start carrying a beanie with me as the temperature drops, when the door flies open.
My breath catches.
Fucking finally.
She looks so beautiful I could die a happy man right here, right now. Her dress is black and silver, flowy, held together at the waist by a wide black belt. She’s also wearing high-heeled suede boots, adding at least three inches to her height, her lips closer to mine. I’m blessed with the fact that her dress shows a little cleavage—not too much to be considered inappropriate, but just enough to give me a nice reminder that I’ve seen her boobs, and they areamazing.
