Back at the table, Leo has ordered us a second round, which is good because I’m going to need it. I finish off my first glass, vibrating with anxious excitement. More people have arrived since I put our names on the list—which now appear on a screen hovering over Leo’s head—which means more eyes on me. More people to judge me.
No. What is it Leo just said about me? I’m powerful. Powerful people can have a good time singing in front of strangers with a faux-concierge-not-quite-stranger. I keep telling myself that when our names are called, when we choose our mic stands.
All the uneasiness fades away when the song title appears on the screen and Leo’s face breaks into the most infectious smile I’ve ever seen. It’s “Rain on Me” by Lady Gaga and Ariana Grande and since I’ve started this, I take the first part—belting about good times and rainfall and pushing through misery.
My voice starts out timid, shaky, but when the pre-chorus kicks in I’m singing the refrain with a strong certainty that seems to pleasantly surprise Leo. He takes it up a notch when the chorus proper comes in and, without missing a beat, he breaks into the fast-paced, high-energy choreography from the music video. It’s flawless and beautiful and full-bodied. He’s jumping, kicking, and body rolling, completely undisturbed by our audience who, by their cheers, are eating this up.
So am I. I’m awed by his moves and his charisma. Even more wowed when, barely out of breath, he picks up Ariana’s verse. Does he sound good? Absolutely not. But it doesn’t matter. His whole heart is in it, so I match him.
By the time the bridge comes in, we’re trading lyrics like secrets, sweaty foreheads pressed together, microphones at our mouths, cords snaked behind us. As we sing about throwing our hands up to the sky, the crowd does it without question, which prompts me to dance my ass off, following Leo’s lead until the song comes to its declarative conclusion.
Under the roar of the crowd, Leo whispers into my ear. “You are full of surprises.”
“On the night we met, you said surprises aren’t all they’re cracked up to be.”
“You’re the exception to the rule.”
Then, he kisses me deeply for the entire crowd to see, and I’m utterly enchanted by him.
Sixteen
“My place isn’t far,” Leo says when we step offstage.
That’s how, twenty minutes later, I find my back pressed against his paint-chipped apartment door as he fumbles to get the key in the lock while kissing me with fervor and tongue.
“Uh-oh, this doesn’t bode well,” I joke, breaking the kiss to look down at his shaking hand that can’t seem to find the hole.
“Oh, shut up,” he says on a laugh, giving me a playful shove that riles me up even more. “I know what I’m doing.” Right then, the door gives way and I stumble inside backward, nearly landing on my ass, but Leo—superhuman Leo—catches me before I hit the ground.
“Really sweeping me off my feet, huh?”
He bites his lip. “I do try my best.”
When he stands me upright, I catch a glimpse of his mom’s shoes by the door. “Is she...”
He shakes his head. “No, she’s got an overnight. I double-checked.” I appreciate his preparedness.
With a nod, he takes me to a room in the apartment I hadn’t seen on my last visit: his bedroom. It’s smaller than it looked during our FaceTime. He’s got a queen-sized bed in the center of the room, a small bedside table with a lamp, and a string of fairy lights draped over the window. When he plugs those in, the room is awash with an intimate amber glow.
The click of the door closing makes my heart trip inside my chest. I sit on the edge of the bed, run my hand along the black comforter. I worry for the first time that our sex won’t live up to the lofty expectations. This has been so drawn out. Can the reality match the fantasy we’ve been toying with this whole time?
Leo comes to stand in front of me, wickedly smiles down at me, and I let those founded fears drift away for now. He’s removed his shirt so effortlessly. He grabs my hand with a gentle force and presses my palm to his stomach. The skin is hot, and it grows hotter as he directs my palm downward to the rounded bulge tenting the front of his pants.
“I think it’s time for a different kind of duet,” he tells me with hooded eyes and messy hair. “Strip.”
It’s a knee-jerk reaction to follow orders. My shoes fly across the room, and in seconds I’m completely naked in front of him. From the bed, he drops a pillow in front of him and points down. I sink to the floor, so my face is exactly where he wants it. Where I want it, too.
Following his lead is the most natural thing.
“Take my pants off,” he instructs, but when I loop my fingers into his underwear as well, he stops me. “Justmy pants.”
They fall revealing a pair of black boxer briefs that push his package forward, a delicious display. I run my hands up the backs of his muscular calves I admired on our hike, feeling the sparse black hairs as my palms rove over him. Overcome, I start kissing and biting the inside of his juicy thighs.
He steps back. “Can’t keep your mouth off me, can you?”
I shake my head.
“I like how eager you are, but this has been put off so long that I want to make it last.” He licks his full lips, looking down at me. “Take off my underwear nice and slow. Slower...slower...” It’s a whisper, a prayer. His erection springs out from beneath the waistband and I’m hit with the scent of him, clean musk that goes straight to my head. “Are you okay with this arrangement?”
