He had waited for me.
I had waited for him.
Maybe we’d always been waiting for each other, even since before we had met.
***
We decided to go to L’Gros Luxe, a bar close to my house. It wasn’t busy, and we took a corner table by the window and ordered a few dishes to share.
“So, when will your things get here?” he asked.
“Tomorrow, if the moving guys are on time.”
“Let me know if you need any help.”
“It’s just a couple of boxes of books and clothes. I’ll be fine.”
He gave me a surprised look. “You hired movers just for clothes and books? You don’t have any electronics, posters, appliances? How many books are we talking?”
I dipped a carrot stick in dressing. “I guess…thousands? I did inherit a bookstore, remember? My grandmother picked me for a reason. Being surrounded by books is heaven to me.”
“I thought I was heaven to you.”
“Trey, don’t get offended, but if I had to choose between my books and you… You might well come up short.”
He bent over, reached under my shirt, and stroked my lower back while I studied every inch of his lips.
“Books aren’t everything. You know that, right? A woman has needs, basic needs…” I had to admit, he knew how to get to me. “A book can’t kiss you, a book can’t caress you. A book can only go so deep…”
“I don’t know about that.”
He responded with an inquisitive look. I was having fun. He liked being in control, but he also liked pretending nothing mattered to him, and it was entertaining, watching him go back and forth between expressive and indifferent.
“Well, you’d have to show me,” he said, “because what I’m imagining right now is very, very weird. I’m trying to keep an open mind, but…”
I laughed and stuck a piece of celery in his mouth to get him to be quiet, but he chewed around it and said, “I’m glad you find me funny.”
We paid and walked outside holding hands, very close, ignoring the entire rest of the world. Trey hadn’t been kidding about dancing, so we went to Les Foufounes Électriques, a club and concert hall in the Latin Quarter.
With him everything was fun, even walking down streets I knew by heart, his arm around my waist, him leaning in to whisper something every few steps, unable to keep away from me. It was hard for me, too, to go for long without staring at him. His eyes intoxicated me. He had a childish tenderness, but with a manly firmness that could inflame me inside in an instant. He seduced me with his easygoing attitude, which hid an impulsive, passionate heart. He was life distilled, and everything paled beside him, beside the mirage of what we could be someday.
He made me laugh with his games and his stupid, often shameless questions, which I answered without the least bit of embarrassment. He liked that about me, and he’d give me kisses on the neck to hide his hoarse, sexy laugh when people passing by started to stare.
“Hey,” someone said, “sorry. Excuse me, can you help me with something?”
We turned and saw a couple on the opposite sidewalk. The guy waved.
“Hi,” he repeated, crossing the street toward us. “We’re looking for MTelus, the concert venue. We were told it was close to here, but I think we’ve missed it.”
“Have you heard of it?” I asked Trey.
He nodded.
“Yeah, it’s the former Métropolis.” He let my hand go and approached the couple. “It’s close by. We’re going to a place right next door. We can walk there together.”
“Wow, that would be great,” the girl said.
She was blond, with bright, expressive eyes, and very pretty. Whenshe turned, I saw a tattoo on her neck, a little bird taking flight. The guy was tall, with brown hair and a friendly smile. I thought I might have seen him somewhere before.
