"I think I would have been accepted to Juilliard if I would have applied."
"And you say I'm the cocky one?" he mutters. "I have a piano at my place that I can't play. You should come over and tickle my ivories."
"You didn't just say that." I scrunch my nose. "That sounded like something…well, it didn't sound like you were talking about a piano."
"I wasn't." He finally closes the Uber app. "Look, if you ever want to come over to my place and play my piano, you're more than welcome. I'll keep my hands to myself. Scouts honor."
I watch as he raises his hand in the air. "You were a boy scout?"
"No." He sighs heavily. "Does that matter?"
I shield my smile with my gloved hand. "It doesn't matter. I can get home on my own. Thanks again for the dinner and the website contact."
"My pleasure." He steps toward me. "I'm going to kiss your cheek, Sophia, so don't knee me in the groin."
"I won't," I whisper as his soft lips brush against my skin.
CHAPTER NINE
Nicholas
I wake with a start,the sheets around me a rumpled, twisted mess. I'm covered in sweat. The cold air that's enveloped the room from the slightly ajar window does nothing to cool me. I sit up, my mind still racing with the thoughts of the dream. It's the same fucking dream I have at least once a month.
I swing my legs over the side of my bed, taking in the lights of the city that usually offers me comfort. I can disappear in New York. When I stand and stare at the massive skyscrapers that punctuate the skyline, I feel invisible. During those brief moments, the haunting memories of my past dissipate. They don't consume me. They don't flood my mind with the thoughts that fuel my creative drive.
I couldn't write what I do if I hadn't lived through my past, yet it steals virtually every moment of my future from me.
That wasn't the case tonight when I had dinner with Sophia. She's right to be wary of me but not for the reasons she thinks.
I do want to fuck her. I don't know a man alive who wouldn't. She's beautiful and sensual, even if she doesn't realize it. WhenI leaned in to kiss her cheek, she sighed and her breath rushed over my chin. She smelled like spring, which feels eons away right now. She also smelled of the promise of a future that could be different.
I shake my head and pick up the water bottle I keep next to my bed. I swallow a large gulp, but it does nothing to calm me. I should get up and go for a run or take another shower. I had two since I left the restaurant.
The first was so I could jerk off and cleanse away the memory of Sophia. The second, an hour later, was cold as ice. It did little to quiet the hunger I still feel for her.
I scoop my phone into my palm and scroll through my contact list. I stop at her name, my thumb hanging over the screen above her number. It's past midnight. She'll be asleep by now in a bed I can't picture in an apartment on some nameless street on this island.
Unable to help myself, I reach out. I send her a quick text knowing she'll see it in the morning.
It's Nicholas. I'm texting to see if this is really you or if you gave me a fake number.
Her response comes almost instantaneously.
I knew you'd try and contact me in the middle of the night. Why are you awake? It's late.
I lean back on the bed and type out the first thing that comes to mind. It also happens to be the truth.
Bad dream.
At least a minute passes before I see the three dots jump that signal a reply.
I have a recurring dream about a duck. Don’t ask but suffice to say I avoid the ponds at Central Park at all costs.
I laugh aloud as she types another message.
I'm going to sleep, Nicholas. I hope you were telling the truth about Joe.
I text back immediately.
