“Thank you,” she says, clutching the drink to her chest and closing her eyes.
“She speaks,” I joke, and a smile grows across her beautiful lips.
“Sorry,” she says, opening her eyes and looking into mine briefly before looking away. “About before, I mean. I’ve been meaning to thank you since you brought me in here but…” she trails off and laughs nervously. “I kind of forgot how to function as a human being.”
I laugh.
“You’re welcome,” I say, sitting on the couch and laying my arm across the back of it, hoping like hell she’ll take the movement for the invitation it is and come closer. “Can I get you anything else?”
She immediately shakes her head and stands.
“No. You’ve done more than enough. I should get out of your hair. It’s been really nice meeting you—”
“You’re leaving?” I ask, cocking my head to the side and studying her. She looks from me to the drink in her hands. She looks anxious. Like she wants to run out of here as fast as she can and never look back. And for a second, I think she might.
“You want me to stay?” she asks instead.
“What can I say? You have my attention.” Her cheeks turn red, and she bites her lip to hide a smile. My eyes track the movement, and I want nothing more than to have that fucking lip between my own teeth. Figure out how to get her to moan like she did a few minutes ago. Again, and again, and—
“Does that line work on every woman you bring back to your dressing room?” she asks, squaring her shoulders and looking me directly in the eye.
“Did it work on you?”
“No,” she says, too quickly. I grin.Liar.
“Am I not allowed to find a woman who planned on sitting in the freezing rain for seven hours to guarantee a front row spot at one of my concerts a little intriguing?”
“I guess I do seem like someone who’s a little…” she trails off.
“Captivating?” I finish for her.
“Unhinged,” she says, and I laugh again.
“Listen,” I say, leaning forward and resting my arms on my knees. “If you’re assuming that I expect something in return for bringing you in out of the rain, you’re wrong. You looked miserable out there, and I was in a position to help you. That’s it. I swear.” Her brow creases as she considers my words.
“So, what? I stay and…” she trails off and looks at me, waiting for an answer.
“We talk. Get to know each other,” I say, and she tilts her head as she studies me. Like my words don’t compute. Like she expected me to say something else entirely.
“Alright,” she says, finally sitting back down on the couch. She’s as far away as she can get, and I fight the pull Ifeel to move closer to her. “What do you want to know?”
“Your name, for starters,” I say, sitting back into the couch.
“Ty,” she says.
“Just Ty?” I press, and she nods. I don’t push her. “Do you live here in New York?” She shakes her head.
“No,” she says. “I’m a few hours away. I took the train in.”
“How old are you?”
“Brave of you, asking a woman her age.” Our eyes meet and we both smile before she looks back down at her drink. I find myself wishing she wouldn’t look away from me so quickly, so I ask a few more questions and listen intently to every answer she gives as she opens herself up to me, little by little.
I learn that she’s twenty-nine, six years younger than me, and that she works full time as a stylist at a salon, but her dream is to be a writer. She tells me about the six completed novels she has on her laptop, and that she can’t find an agent who wants to work with her so she’s considering throwing in the towel.
“All it takes is one,” I say. “It took us two years to get a record deal, and another year to finally release a single that charted.” She looks at me and when a smile tugs at the corner of her mouth, I know that she knows exactly what single I’m talking about. “It’ll happen. Keep grinding.”
She nods and sets the cup she’s been clutching to her chest down on the table before pulling the sleeves of the sweatshirt up her arms.
