Moments later we’re swinging side by side, pumping our legs and staring up at the night sky.
“How about a contest?” he asks, his breath slightly ragged. “To see who can jump the farthest.”
“Hmm. What are the terms?”
“If I beat you, I get to stay over again tonight.”
“Oh yeah? And if I win?”
“Name your wager.”
“When you’re famous, I want you to take me to see a Broadway show. And I want to sit in the very first row.”
“Deal,” he agrees. “Okay, here we go: one… two… three!” We launch ourselves into the air, laughing as we tumble onto the rubberized surface below. Jake lands several inches behind me,arms spread above his head, wheezing dramatically. I roll over and place my hands on his chest.
“Are you okay?” I ask. “And I mean, are you okay emotionally, since you were just dominated and effectively committed to seeingMean Girls: The Musical.”
“Ugh, you win,” he groans, bringing a hand to cover his face. “How could I say no? You’re impossible to resist.” He reaches out his other hand to tickle me, and I squeal as I roll over and onto my back.
Jake leans his body over mine, propping himself up on his elbows so he’s staring down on me. His chocolate eyes darken as he skates a thumb across my cheek. Slowly, he leans down to brush his lips against mine. Pleasure spreads through my body as my fingers twist into his hair, pulling him closer and deepening our kiss.
I inhale slowly as I commit every detail to memory—the pressure of his hand against my cheek, the rubbery smell of the recycled tires beneath our backs, the low rumble of traffic in the distance—because I want to remember this moment for the rest of my life.
I groan when he finally breaks our connection, rolling onto his side and studying the clouds above us. Then he turns his head and grins.
“Any chance I can still get that sleepover?”
I smile back. “I think something can be arranged.”
JAKE LEAVES AROUND SIXthe next morning so he can have time to pack before his 2P.M.flight.
He’s lingering in the doorway, balancing his guitar on one shoulder, when I press a foiled-wrapped package of leftover pancakes into his hand.
“Something to remember me by,” I say.
Lifting my chin, Jake raises my face toward him. His eyes arepiercing as he gazes down at me. When he speaks, his voice is resolute.
“This isn’t goodbye. It’s just ‘see you later.’ Besides, I could never, in a million years, forget you, Alexa Berman.”
I take a breath to quell the butterflies in my stomach.
“I’ll call you when I’m back in town.” He leans forward, giving me a long, languid kiss before he finally tears himself away. As he heads down the hallway, I feel myself deflate.
I smile weakly, waving as the elevator doors clang shut behind him. Luckily, it’s already time to leave for class, which means there’s no time to overanalyze the nagging sense of unease rising in my chest.
6
WHEN I GET DOWNto the lobby, Lionel is seated at the front desk. His pencil-thin mustache twitches in amusement when he sees me.
“Well, look who it is. Imagine my surprise when I was signing in this morning and saw a young man exiting the elevator from the sixth floor.”
“Presumptuous of you to assume he was my guest. Mrs. Ackerman is back on the market, you know. She ended things with her boyfriend after he moved into assisted living on the West Side. Said he was, and I directly quote, ‘not worth the cab fare.’”
Lionel is undeterred. “Handsome fellow. Is it serious?”
I scoff. “Hardly.”
“You say it like it would be the worst thing in the world.”
