Chapter 8
8
Andrew
Rascal sees me first.
And yaps, of course, causing Juni to look in my direction. Her hand plants on her hip, and a tilt of her head makes it hard to decipher if she’s happy or mad that I’m here. I walk toward them, hoping it’s the former for Juni. Rascal tugs on his leash, making me realize at least one of them is excited to see me.
I approach with caution since her expression is as unreadable as her body language, and ask, “A bit late for a dog walk, don’t you think?”
“When you got to go, you gotta go.”
“Truer words have never been spoken.”
For some reason, that makes her smile. Her defenses lower along with her hand. “Have you been drinking, Andrew?”
I lick my lips, admiring her as she comes into view under the lights sneaking out through the windows from the lobby. “Why are you asking that?”
“The way you’re walking, the slow drawl in your words,” she says, ticking each one off the top of a different fingertip, “or maybe it’s the first time I’ve seen you without a coat hanger holding up your shoulders.”
“Very funny.”
“I thought so.”
“You think I can’t have fun? I do all the time,” I insist.
“One doth protest too much.”
“Only stating facts, babe.”
Babe?
“Babe?” she repeats as if she can read my mind.
Shaking my head, I mumble, “Yeah, I got nothing.”
There’s a melody to her laugh, a sweet song that sometimes slips out for others who are lucky enough to hear. I’m one of them.
I look her over again, realizing I kind of missed her. “It’s been a few days since we ran into each other.” Not a question. Just a comment.
“You mean literally, right?” Humor punctuates her words. “Hopefully, your shirt is safe tonight.”
I chuckle. When the laughter dies down, I count the feet that divide us. Three. But I’m close enough for Rascal to jump up on my leg. He’s a great distraction. Squatting down, I pet his head and scrub down his back. When I glance up at Juni, I ask, “What’s with the name?”
“You don’t think he looks like a Rascal?”
Chuckling, I stand back up. “Your name.”
She smirks, and it’s quite appealing on her. “You don’t think I look like a Juni?”
Angling my head to the left, I twist my mouth to the side as if that will help me figure out the answer. “Oddly enough, you do look like a Juni. Both of you.”
“You see two of me?” An alarm rings through her tone.
I burst out laughing again. “No. I’m just messing with you. As for the name, I’ve just never heard it before.”
“Most people know it from Spy Kids . Juni Cortez.” She moves closer to the building when a group of people walks by.
Spy Kids ? That’s a flashback. “I haven’t seen that movie in ages. Decades, in fact. Juni was the brother, right?”
“Yes. He was sort of annoying.”
I close some distance and rub my jaw. “I had the biggest crush on Carmen.”
“She was awesome. The actress does Hallmark movies now.”
“The Christmas ones?”
“They’re not all Christmas,” she says, shrugging, “but that channel, yes.”
“I haven’t seen any. My mom does, though.”
“Right,” she says between tight lips. “Your mom.”
“I didn’t mean to insinuate?—”
One of her hands comes up in front of her, and her expression softens again. “I know what you meant. It’s okay.”
Shit. I’m blowing this . . . whatever this is. “I like Juni on you much better.”
Restoring the joy that fits her features so well, she looks down shyly. “Thank you, Andrew.”
With my hands in my pockets, I rock back and then sidestep but play it off like I intended to stumble to the right. Distract. “Did he do his business?”
With pinched brows, she jerks back. “Who?”
“Rascal. He’s on concrete. Wouldn’t he like grass better?”
She looks at him sitting contently by her side and then at me again. “Who wouldn’t?” she says, thumbing over her shoulder. “That’s why I took him to the park.”
Looking past her, I don’t see any grass. “Is that safe at night?”
“It has been so far, but I guess you never know.” She lifts her wrist to show something dangling from it. “I also carry pepper spray.”
The alcohol catches up with me, and I lean against one of the stone columns dividing the windows. “Smart.” Looking down one side of the street and then the other, I ask, “What are you doing here?”
“You’re nosy when you’re drunk. You know that, Andrew?” Despite her words, she doesn’t sound offended.
“Is that a compliment?”
I can admit that I earned that eye roll she gives me. “I’m trying to decide if it’s good or bad to see you in this state.”
“I’m better in California, if you know what I mean, but . . .” I raise my arms out. “I’m stuck here in New York for the next two years.”
That gets her laughing. “I don’t know what you mean, but I meant your condition.” Her hand gestures down and then up again. “Your body’s physical state, not the geographical location.”
I narrow my eyes, but then I widen them again, preferring the view of all of her better. “Ah, so you were checking me out.”
“Oh my God,” she says, sighing, but I hear the lightness in her tone. “You’re a handful?—”
“More than, but it would be rude to brag.”
“Too late.” Coming closer, she lowers her voice. “I’m thinking I should take you home.”
“Great minds think alike.”
She doesn’t even try to restrain her laughter. “Do you remember when you accused me of flirting with you?”
“I thought it was the other way around?” Gil sits behind the counter and occasionally looks in our direction.
“Oh right.” She looks up at the stars, letting her gaze linger, and then to me again. “Anyway, your flirting doesn’t bother me. I actually like it, but I’m wondering what’s happening here.”
When my gaze slides back to Juni, I can practically see the questions filling her eyes. Questions lead to commitments, and that’s not something I can do. “I don’t know what to say. I don’t want to hurt your feelings.”
A soft hum is exhaled as if I just fed her the best thing she’s ever fucking tasted. I think . . . Yeah , I definitely need to readjust when she makes that sound twice.
Her reaction is unexpected and sexy as fuck. The tips of her fingers land on my stomach, and she drags them leisurely down two buttons as if we’re old friends. I shift, trying not to be so obvious, because fuck, it’s been a long time since I’ve slept with a woman. And she’s hot and funny in a quirky way and standing right here looking at me like she feels the same about me. Not the funny part, but the hot part I mentioned.
“I’m so relieved to hear you say that, Andrew. I was thinking we could hang out more often?—”
“Four times this week is fairly often.”
“I was thinking we could hang out on purpose.”
Running my hand through my hair, I say, “I’m open to the idea. Continue.”
“Although the universe is doing a pretty darn good job, maybe we can make a plan.”
“Plan a date?”
“No, more like going out together without it being a date. Go out as friends.”
“Friends. Yes. I like this dating plan.”
“It’s not a dating plan. It’s just friends going on a . . . ugh. I mean going out. Hanging out. Platonically. Now I’m getting confused. Platonically.” She says that last word again, and then asks, “Is that even a word? Why does it sound strange and taste so weird? Platonically .”
“Platonically. It sounds weird to my ears now too.” When I yawn, and my eyes dip closed longer than is acceptable for standing on a street having a definition-defining conversation about a word, she tugs me by the sleeve of my jacket. “As fun as this is, as your friend, I think you should go home.”
Tapping the tip of her cute nose, I admit, “I don’t disagree.”
“All right. Since you’re drunk and wearing a Rolex and a designer suit on the street, Rascal and I will just make sure you get home safely.”
“This is a first.”
“Guess there’s always room for another.” Now that we’re standing in the middle of the sidewalk again, she looks around. Unsettled, she asks, “Where do you live?”
My head bobs to the right. “Right here.”
Her smile is honest and unassuming, unlike her eyes that seem to protect her secrets.
What am I doing? “I used to hold my liquor better.” When she looks at the building, I study her profile, tracing the slightest of slopes down her nose to the peaks of the bow at the top of her lips. She really is quite attractive.
Puffing a breath, she sends strands of hair flying into the air in front of her, only for them to return and fall back in her face. Out of the corners of her eyes, she looks at me. “Let’s get you home. It’s past Rascal’s bedtime, and I have a feeling it’s past yours as well.”
Before we reach the door, I stop her. My fingers slide up the back of her arm while my gaze remains glued to her face—the sharp lines that lead from the apples of her cheeks to her cute little chin. “I think that’s a good idea, but I also think I should make sure you get home safely.”
“I’ll be fine. Don’t worry. I live really close, and I have Rascal to protect me.”
Gil swings the door open, smiling as usual. “Good evening.”
Just inside the door, she says, “Good evening.” Turning back, I look at her, realizing she’s not wearing any makeup. She’s fresh-faced, and her hair is messy but beautiful as always. Words don’t come easy as I take her in.
But with a clearing of Gil’s throat, I step farther into the lobby as she stands just outside the door, an invisible barrier keeping us apart. Gil scratches his head as confusion rattles his expression. “Is everything all right?”
Juni scoops Rascal into her arms and then catches up to me. “Hey, I know you’ve been drinking, but I don’t want you to forget about our plans.”
I punch the button and then stop with my back to the elevator. “To hang out?”
Her smile is sunshine, though it’s late at night. “Yes, to hang out. Drink lots of water, okay?”
“I will.” Smiling, I say, “Thanks, friend.”
“Wait.” Grabbing her phone from her pocket, she asks, “What do you think about exchanging numbers? Then if we want to hang out or you need someone to protect you on your next drunken night out, you can text me.”
I pull mine from my pocket and tell her my number. A text pops onto the screen, cementing the smile on my face. She releases a breath, and then says, “We’ll talk soon.”
“Yeah,” I say, nodding as I back into the elevator. “Definitely. Good night, Juni.”
“Good night, Andrew.” The door closes, and I fall back on the wall, staring down at the screen. I decide to send her a text. How do you feel about tomorrow?
The door opens, and as I walk to my apartment, my phone buzzes in my hand. I stop to read her quick reply. I love Saturdays.
My fingers fly across the screen to respond: Me too. I don’t have plans. I was thinking if you don’t have plans, maybe we could not have plans together.
What is wrong with me? Why am I acting like a high school kid again? I really shouldn’t feel this good, considering what I’ve drunk tonight, but there’s just something about her I can’t put my finger on. Another text comes in, making me grin like I’m guilty as sin.
I am. Thoughts fill my head, and I let my imagination run free with the images of how dirty Juni and I could be. The heat from when we touched still pulses through my veins. Instead of going to bed, I grab a bottle of water and then detour to the bathroom. I’m definitely going to need a cold shower.
With the water running, I slip my jacket off and toss it onto the bed. Leaning against the marble counter with a ridiculous smile on my face, I think about the last text she sent. Sounds like a plan.