2. Xavier
Chapter Two
XAVIER
When my friend, Tom, had said to bring the turkey, I thought he was fucking kidding. Do I look like I know how to cook a turkey? Sadly, he was dead serious.
I moved to the city a year ago. I knew no one, but I quickly made friends with my work colleagues who adopted me as an extra family member. Tom, who is our accounts manager, invited me to Thanksgiving last year and I guess it went well, because not only did I get a second invite, but I also got the turkey task. Apparently, his group of friends takes turns making the turkey because none of them like doing it. And I drew the short straw this year. I feel like this might be some cruel form of friend hazing, but Tom assures me it’s not.
I open the oven for the twentieth time and find the little plastic thing in the turkey has popped up, which according to my sister means it’s ready. She made me cook it in this bag that makes this entire thing idiot-proof.
I lift the turkey out. If I place it in this giant box I got, it should be cooled and ready to slice by the time I arrive in about forty minutes. I text Tom that I’m on my way and pick up the special box with the handles on it.
I feel awkward as hell walking down the hallway with a turkey in a box, but at least I’ll get a good arm workout before I arrive. I press the down button and the elevator doors open. I swallow as I get inside. I hate this thing. It’s the worst part of the building, but I love my apartment and its location, so I guess I’m going to suck it up for now.
The ancient wooden box shudders as it begins its descent. When it stops at the fourth floor and the doors open, I’m pleasantly surprised to see the woman I’ve been eyeing for months. I find her glancing my way all the time when our paths cross. I’ve said hello a few times, but she never seems to respond beyond a quiet hi or good morning. Most of the time, she has her earbuds in, and I try to give her some space. I don’t want to be that creepy neighbor. Especially, if she doesn’t seem interested.
But even if there’s nothing between us, I can’t deny how physically attracted I am to her. She’s beautiful, in a natural, no-frills sort of way. She has long dark hair. She sometimes wears it in a ponytail and sometimes it cascades down her back in soft waves. Either way, she is most definitely the prettiest woman I’ve seen since I moved here.
Today, she has in her earbuds as usual. She glances my way and gives me a tight smile before turning toward the doors. She has something in a baking dish that smells freaking amazing. I want to ask her for the recipe, but just as I start to speak, the elevator shudders again and comes to a stop. I look at the dial above the door. It’s between floors one and two.
“Shit,” she mutters, pulling her earbud out of her ear and reaching for the phone in the little box below the button panel as she tries pressing the buttons. Nothing seems to work.
“Hello?” she says loudly as she presses the buttons on the phone panel. “Great,” she mutters, pulling her cell phone out of her pocket.
I watch as she dials emergency services.
“Hello? Yes, I’m stuck in an elevator. Uh-huh. Nine oh two West Fifty-Sixth Street.” Her face scrunches up. “How long? No…I…yes. No. Fine.”
She ends the call and stares over at me, pulling the earbuds out of her ears. “There’s a three-alarm fire in our district and they don’t have anyone available to come to get us until they get it under control. She said to call back if we experience a medical emergency and try calling the super, as if that will help.”
I groan and pull my phone out, sending Tom a text that I’ll be late, very late. I watch as she slides down the wall and sits down, cross-legged, setting the covered dish on the floor in front of her.
Shrugging, I follow suit and sit down next to her, placing the turkey box in front of me.
“You going to a Thanksgiving dinner?” I ask, nodding at her dish.
She smiles a polite smile, not a real one. “My family. You?” She motions to my box.
“Yep. A friend’s house. I’m Xavier, by the way.” I hold my hand out and she shakes it. Her fingers are slender and warm against mine.
“Melanie.”
“Nice to officially meet you, Melanie.”
“Likewise.” This time she gives me a real smile, prompting one of my own.
We both look forward as if we aren’t sure what else to say. Melanie looks down at her phone and starts typing a text message.
“Sorry, it’s probably bad manners to sit next to someone you are stuck in an elevator with while sending texts on your phone, but if I don’t message my family, I’ll never, ever hear the end of it,” she explains. She finishes sending several messages and then sets her phone down.
“It’s alright. I understand. My family would be the same way if they were waiting on me.”
“I take it you aren’t from here,” she says as she turns toward me. I’ve never been able to study her up close before as she’s always facing away from me. She has a splattering of freckles across her nose and cheeks. Her irises have pops of green in them, although they are mostly brown. Her lashes are the type that my sisters would kill for and her lips are the perfect heart shape.
“Nope. Chicago, the suburbs. But I’ve been here for over a year now.”
“Do you like it here?”
I nod. “I do. I wasn’t sure at first, but I’m slowly starting to explore the city. There’s certainly no lack of activities here. And there’s something for everyone. I’ll admit, I do miss the wide-open spaces of a suburb, but when I get homesick for that, I head over to Central Park. Are you from here?”
She makes a “sort of” motion with the flip of her hand. “Just over the river in New Jersey.”
“Bummer that we’ll both be late,” I note as I motion to our food.
“Yeah,” she says with a sigh. She leans back and closes her eyes.