Chapter 9 Adam
Chapter nine
Adam
Iarrive ten minutes before Maya and I are scheduled to meet to ensure we get a good table and to calm my nerves. I can't afford to freeze again when I specifically invited her to breakfast.
Maya shows up to the beachfront restaurant wearing a navy skirt that twirls around her generous hips when she walks.
She wears a cream top that hugs her breasts and threatens to turn me into Slick Joe McWolf drooling over Red Hot Riding Hood.
The gray cardigan from yesterday is gone, and her ample cleavage tests my ability to maintain eye contact.
As she gets closer, I can see that her skirt actually has tiny white ship anchors on it to match her shirt.
She’s got her hair half up-half down today, and I’m pleased to see it reaches all the way to her ample bottom.
I wipe my hands on my khaki board shorts before offering my hand.
“Does that mean you’ll shake my hand today?” she asks, though I can tell by the glint in her eyes that she’s mostly teasing. I smile sheepishly and pull her chair out before sitting down.
“Yeah. Again, I’m sorry about that. I was just…
” caught off guard, I finish silently. “I mean, I just didn’t want to let Bryan down.
I’ve known him forever but I was still surprised he picked me as his best man.
This wedding stuff is hardly my forte.” That was actually the truth.
She smiles and grabs the menu and I’m relieved I don’t have to keep groveling…
though I totally would if it looked like she was going to leave.
"So any wedding bells for you and the blonde?" She scoots her chair closer to the table and I nearly go cross-eyed trying to avoid watching her breasts jiggle with the movement.
"Who?"
Maya pauses from reading her menu, her expression curious.
"I thought you might be with the blonde from yesterday. The wedding planner?"
"Oh my God! No. That's Emily. She's the wedding planner, but we're not together. Bryan would kill me."
Maya shrugs and picks back up her menu. How could she think I had a girlfriend after all that flirting before? Hmmm…Actually, I guess there is no shortage of cheaters in NYC, but that's not my style.
Is she single too? I don't see a ring, but she could still be with someone. What kind of boyfriend would let his girl spend the weekend alone in Cape Cod?
"What about you?" Maya looks up from her menu.
"What about me, what?"
"Are you seeing anyone?" I'm so glad I don't sound as nervous as I feel. Her eyes dart up from the menu in shock.
"Me?" she practically squeaks.
"Yes," I say, enjoying that I seem to be effecting her too. She plasters on a smile to try to cover her reaction to me.
"No, no one special. Just me and my cat, Khan." Thank God! I grin before finally perusing the menu. I can see her squirm in her chair out of the corner of my eye.
“Anyway, it’s really OK about yesterday.
Trust me, you are definitely not the rudest customer I’ve ever dealt with.
” Ouch! That’s quite the low bar. “You can make it up to me by…” she scans the menu, quickly spotting her choice.
“...buying me a pain au chocolat with a side of bacon and a chai tea with oat milk.” She puts her menu at the empty place setting beside us and I’m glad she’s so decisive.
Taking forever to order is one of my pet peeves.
I give the waiter our order when he comes by and try not to stare at Maya.
Her cheeks are flushed with color and today, she’s wearing gloss that makes her lips look even more kissable.
I take a drink of my ice water and try to compose myself.
I’ve never had this reaction to a woman, so I’m a little out of my depth. Since when am I at a loss for words?
“You sure knew what you wanted,” I say, because it’s the best I can come up with. My brain’s been buffering since she sat down. She turns and looks me directly in the eyes. Suddenly my throat is made of sandpaper and I reach for my water glass again.
“I’ve always been like that. Besides, what’s the worst that could happen if you choose wrong? It’s one meal out of thousands.” She smiles and goes back to looking at the water. “God, what a view! Something about the water and the breeze just relaxes me every time.”
I briefly glance at the waves before sneaking another look at Maya.
"Yeah. The view is surprisingly beautiful." She hums her agreement, still soaking in the scenery. Who would bother looking at the beach with her sitting here? We could be on the moon for all I know.
“Do you come to Cape Cod a lot?”
“Oh no,” she laughs, like her vacationing on the Cape is somehow ridiculous.
“I’ve been here a total of three times my entire life, including right now.
My college roommate threw a couple parties at her parents' place when they were out of town, but those ended when a senior blew chunks on the pool table.
Ruined it for everyone." She giggles at the memory and the waiter discretely brings our food and disappears.
“How about you?” she asks as she daintily picks up a piece of bacon to keep her fingers from getting oily. It’s something my mom would do, though I push further comparisons between her and my mom out of my head as quickly as possible.
“Nah, not really. This is only my second time and the last time was for another friend’s wedding.”
We eat in silence for a while, enjoying the beach views and sounds.
I clumsily drop my spoon on the ground and when I reach down to pick it up, I see that the ocean breeze Maya loves so much has pushed her skirt up higher on her thighs.
Nope, looking at that is not going to help me right now.
I shift in my seat, trying to discretely hide my arousal.
“So you live in the city, right?” She nods and closes her eyes briefly to savor her pastry. God, to be a pastry! “Where?”
“I live in Fort Greene, not far from BAM,” she says.
“Oh cool.” 'Cool?' Really? “I live in Bushwick. I'm from Clinton Hill; my parents still have a place there. But I got my own place once I finished school.”
“And where'd you go?”
“Stanford.” Pause for applause.
“Wow. That’s impressive.” She sips her tea and I notice the silences between us are becoming less awkward.
“What about you?” I ask so I don’t seem like I’m bragging.
“Where am I from or where did I go to school?”
“Both,” I say, surprised that I actually want to know the answer. Conversation was rarely a part of my past relationships, if you can even call them "relationships" when I didn't always know their last name.
“I’m from Washington, DC. I went to Pratt and fell in love with Brooklyn, so I stayed.
” She shrugs before licking her pinky and using the moistened fingertip to clean the crumbs from her plate.
She doesn't seem to be trying to turn me on, but still she is, just by being herself. I’m kinda digging how easy her whole demeanor is.
I look down and realize we’ve finished our meal. Shit. That went by faster than I wanted. The waiter comes by with the check before I can try to stall by ordering more food. Maya takes her purse out and starts digging for her phone. Time for a Hail Mary.
“Is there any way I can bum a ride from you back to the city?” She looks at me doubtfully and I don’t blame her. Four hours with a total stranger is not really the norm.
“Um…” I can practically hear her coming to the same conclusion.
“Look, I swear I’m not a psycho,” Yikes! “I carpooled here with one of the bridesmaids and I’m not sure I can take another long car ride with her.” I can see Maya softening, so I continue my pitch.
“I have a ton of work emails to answer," I beg, even clasping my fingers together. "You won’t even know I’m there and I will pay for gas.” I give her the smile I normally reserve for my hookups and I can see she’s a goner. It’s almost unfair, but it had to be done.
“Well, if you’ll pay for gas and snacks, I guess it’s OK.” She smiles tentatively and then suddenly remembers something.
“Wait a minute! I still have to drop my promo kits around. If you want a ride, you’ll have to wait until like noon. Is that still cool?”
“Deal,” I say, and hide my intense relief by checking the time on my watch. “Should we meet up back at the Chatham Bars Inn?”
“Sure,” she says, hiking up her purse on her arm. She looks back over her shoulder and gives me a wide smile. “Text, if anything.”