My smile broadened. “Distraction is something I’m good at.”
She shook her head, took another bite of ice cream, and turned her attention to the tv. I grabbed the other spoon she’d brought over and sat up, digging out a spoonful of ice cream for myself.
“What is it that you do?” I asked.
“I’m a graphic designer,” she replied. “Freelance work. I have a lot of clients around the states. I do all my work from home. I get to travel occasionally, so that’s fun—oh wait, I love when she does this—“
I almost laughed as she mimicked a scene from the show, having seen the woman on TV make a particular gesture before. Chloe sank back into my side then, curling herself beneath my outstretched arm.
“What about you? What does thegod of desiredo in his free time?” Her eyes comically locked on me. “Or does he have a day job?”
“He has a day job,” I replied. “I’m an app developer.”
“Oh? Anything I’ve heard of?”
Besides the most popular dating app out? No.
But I resisted telling her.
“Maybe,” I shrugged.
She snickered. “So, you’re mysterious now?” she teased. “You’re not ready to divulge all your secrets to me?”
“Give me another round,” I joked. “Then we’ll talk.”
“You know what we should do,” she said, and I squinted at the look on her face.
“What’s that?”
“First, we should order pizza,” she said. “There’s a place downstairs that delivers up at all hours of the night. And second, we should leave a bowl on my balcony to catch some of this snow. It’s coming down pretty hard. We’d have enough for snow cream in an hour.”
“What is snow cream?”
Her eyes widened as though I’d just uttered the worst thing I could have possibly said. “What—you don’t know—oh, this is atragedy.”
She was on her feet in a second, the ice cream forgotten about, and she retrieved a silver bowl from beneath her cabinet. I started to ask what she was going on about as she reached me again, but she just grabbed my hand and pulled me out onto the fire escape landing before I could.
Snow circled her as though her gravity were pulling it in. She placed that silver bowl on the step, and then treaded up to the banister.
I beamed at her there—her head thrown back, my sweater hiked above her lace underwear as she held her arms wide, that carefree look on her face as she stuck her tongue out and the snow landed on her…
I took my phone out and snapped a photo of her.
“What’s the name of your pizza place?” I asked her.
She moved to my side, huddling against me for warmth, and I let her type it in my phone. She had the order ready for payment within a couple of minutes, and I just laughed when she offered to pay.
“Never happening,” I said, snatching the phone away. I entered the last three digits of my card for security, and the confirmation screen popped up. “Thirty minutes,” I told her.
She gazed at me with a coy smile that made me want to kiss her again.
“Thirty minutes… whatever will we do to occupy the time?” she asked with a bat of her lashes.
I leaned forward and trapped her between my body and the iron banister, my hands bracing onto the railing on either side of her. Her leg bent around me as she smiled.
Thatfuckingsmile.
Gods, where had she come from? How was I in such need of her?
