Chapter Twenty-Three
Trace
The rapidly fallingnight erased the lingering light as I reclined against my car, looking up to the brightly lit window in Cierra’s apartment. A few minutes before, I’d seen her pass by it, and I pictured her grabbing a cup of hot chocolate and settling on the couch. I smiled when I thought of her couch; it was an explosion of color and design and so unlike anything I had at my place. It reminded me of her: unconventional and vibrant.
I tipped my head back and stared at the faint stars in the dark, moonless sky. It’d been almost two weeks since we fucked in my office, and she’d been on my mind ever since. Even my buddies had noticed something was eating at me when we’d met up at Benny’s for a few beers the previous Saturday. Nick had said I was sulking over a woman, and Drew, Jeff, and JP had laughed, ribbing me about needing to get laid. They didn’t know the half of it. Nothing felt the same to me without Cierra around.
I shoved my hands in my pockets and crossed the street. Glancing around for any sign of the black Lexus had become my habit. I hadn’t seen it again, and I began to wonder if Cierra had been right about being paranoid about it. Pausing at the glass doors for a second, I opened them and stepped into the vestibule, rang the buzzer next to her apartment number, and leaned back on my boot heels.
“Yes?” Her voice crackled over the intercom.
“Hey. How are you?”
A long pause. Too long. I didn’t think she was going to respond, so I turned to leave.
“Okay. You?”
“Not so good.”
“How come?”
I shifted from one foot to another. I wasn’t the best in talking about my feelings to start with, but saying stuff to a damn box wasn’t cutting it. “Can I come up? I don’t want to have a conversation with a fucking intercom box.”
Her giggles warmed me. “Sure. I’ll buzz you in.”
When she did, I practically jogged up to her place.
She opened the door and popped her head out, watching me as I came down the hall. Her hair was loose around her shoulders, and she looked stunning. She stood back and I went inside, the yellow walls, bright retro colors and patterns, and bookcases full of books making me smile. The room was comfortable and inviting, and it spoke mountains about Cierra’s personality. I thought of my condo where everything was sleek, shiny, and devoid of color and clutter. What the hell did it say about me? Cold and reserved? It wouldn’t be too far off.
“Do you want a glass of wine or a beer?” She shuffled to the kitchen, which opened up to the living room. Her living space was smaller than my master bedroom, but she seemed happy in such cramped quarters.
“Beer is good. What’ve you been up to?”
Taking out a brown bottle from the fridge, she looked over her shoulder. “Work.”
“No partying?” I smiled as she handed me the beer and sat on the overstuffed chair next to the couch.
“Not really. I have too many accounts. What about you?”
“The same. Work can be pretty consuming.” I took a long pull and thumbed the bottom of the bottle.
Looking down, she crossed her arms and twirled a long strand of hair around her finger.
“Are you nervous?” I asked.
Looking up, she shook her head. “No. Why? Should I be?”
I chuckled. “You shouldn’t be. I only asked because I’ve noticed when you’re nervous or embarrassed, you wrap strands of hair around your fingers. You’re doing it now.”
Immediately she dropped her hand to her lap. “I’m not nervous. Why are you here?”
“I was in the neighborhood and thought I’d stop in to see how you’re doing.” I took another pull.
“You could’ve just taken the stairs down two flights at work and found out.”
“True… but this way isn’t so businesslike.”
“How is it we haven’t run into each other at work? Have you been avoiding me?”
