Chapter 6
“Of course your hotel is in Times Square. How very touristy of you,” I say in mocking tones.
“Well, I am a tourist, so ...” he trails off as we enter the elevator inside Jay’s hotel and he hits the button for the forty-eighth floor.
Floor forty-eight. I will not freak out. I will not freak out.
“You’re totally freaking out right now, aren’t you?” Jays says, moving across the empty elevator to stand next to me. Empty, except for us. It’s a glass elevator, so I stand against the wall and close my eyes and try not to think of all the ways I might die on this elevator.
“Not freaking out,” I say pitifully.
“What do you call cheese that’s not yours?”
“Seriously?”
“Nacho cheese,” he says with a smile, hip checking me as he does.
“Terrible,” I say, and if my eyes were open, I would totally roll them.
“Why do crabs never give to charity?” he asks, and I moan dramatically. “Because they’re so shellfish.”
“Please make it stop,” I say.
“The elevator or the jokes?” he asks.
“Both.”
The elevator makes a pinging noise, and I look up to see that we’ve made it to our intended destination. His cheesy dad jokes, as terrible as they are, have definitely served a purpose.
“Shall we?” he asks, offering me an arm.
“Sure,” I say, wrapping a hand around his arm as he guides me out of the elevator.
He leads me into a lounge-type area and asks for a table by the window. I hold back a “Hell no” at his window seat request. I’m going to try wearing some big-girl pants and just deal. Because I’m an adult and I can totally do this. Maybe.
We’re seated by the window, with a beautiful view of the city. Only it takes me a minute to realize that my view is, well, changing.
“What the—”
“I hope you don’t get motion sickness,” Jay interjects. “It’s a revolving floor. We’ll get to see the whole city from right here.” He pokes the table with his finger.
“No motion sickness,” I say, grateful that I have at least one thing going for me. I take a long look out the window. I should be totally freaked out by the height and the view, but we’re moving! “Wow,” is all I can say.
“Glad you like it,” Jay says, sounding quite pleased with himself.
The server comes over, and we order appetizers and drinks.
The platform we’re on moves slowly, and I find myself staring out the window, not wanting to miss a thing.
I know we’re forty-eight floors above the ground, and I know I’m basically looking over an edge, but for some reason I’m okay with it. Huh. Weird.
“It’s amazing,” I say, taking in the view with the setting sun splaying beautiful tones of pink and gold across the sky. It’s breathtaking—but in a good way. Not in a get-me-off-this-crazy-horse kind of way.
Our drinks arrive and we sip as we look out the window at this view of the city.
It’s the perfect setting to the end of the day—a day I don’t really want to end.
But I know it will. This is Jay’s hotel, and when we’re done here, I’ll leave him and either train it back home or call my aunt and see if I can crash on her couch.
I feel suddenly sad that it’s nearly over, this day of taking chances.
Sure, they weren’t specifically on Elena’s list, but everything I did today was way more than I’d ever dared do before.
It makes me think that I could maybe try other things.
Not bungee jumping—let’s not get crazy. But maybe instead of looking for a job in Glens Falls, I could move to the city.
I could get a job here, find an apartment—nothing above the second floor, of course (baby steps).
But I feel like the whole world has suddenly opened up to me, and I kind of want to jump in and take advantage of it all.
“What are you thinking about?” Jay asks. I turn to find his chocolate eyes on me, and I wonder how long he’s been watching me.
I sigh. “I was thinking that maybe I could live here.” I turn and look out the window again, spying my archnemesis in the backdrop.
The Empire State Building. Although, if it weren’t for that ridiculously tall building, and my crazy neuroses, I wouldn’t be sitting here, looking at this view, with this person that I feel like I’ve known for a long time.
“You could totally live here,” Jay says confidently. “You should do it.”
Our appetizers arrive just as we’re looking down over Times Square.
The bright lights make it seem like the ground is glowing from up here.
Lights dance and flash all around us. I think I can appreciate Times Square more from up here; down below it’s full of people and taxis with constantly honking horns.
I like being encapsulated up here much better.
Even with the slow movement of the floor, the time seems to fly.
Before I know it, the waiter brings our bill just as we’ve made a full three sixty view of the city.
Jay drops a card on the check, clearly saying without words that he’s paying.
I go to protest but then figure, What’s the point? He’s won every time today.
I look a little closer at Jay’s credit card and see that there’s a C in front of his name.
C. Jay Sanders. Jay has a first name that I don’t even know about.
It actually makes me smile. For all I know about him, there’s still so much I don’t know.
I can only hope that this isn’t the end for Jay and me.
I want to keep him in my life, even if it’s from across the country.
“So,” Jay says, looking at me as if he was just thinking the same thing—that he doesn’t want this to be the end. Of course, I could be reading him totally wrong, but my hormones are really pushing that narrative.
“So,” I echo him.
“What do you think of my—well, Google’s—therapy?” he asks, a small smile on his lips. They really are nice lips. Makes me wish we hadn’t been interrupted on that rooftop garden.
“I think it might have worked,” I say with a little shrug of my shoulders.
“Why do you think it worked?” Jay asks, his face not looking convinced.
“Jay,” I say, putting my hands on the table we’re sitting at, “I’m forty-eight floors above the ground, sitting at a table by the window, and I haven’t felt one ounce of panic.” I give him one of my biggest smiles.
“Except for the elevator ride up here,” he says.
“Except for that,” I agree.
“Well, then I think we have only one more stop,” he says.
“No, Jay.” I shake my head. “You’ve been great. This whole day”—I gesture around the room with my hands—“has been great.”
“Just one more stop,” he says.
“Aren’t you tired? Don’t you need to get some rest before you travel tomorrow?” I ask. I’m not sure why I’m protesting. Wasn’t I just wishing this day wouldn’t end? And here he’s offering me more time.
“I’m not tired, and who needs rest? I can sleep on the plane,” he says. “Come on, Liza. One more stop.”
I look to the side as if contemplating, but who am I kidding? “Okay.”
He stands up from the table, offering me a hand. “Then let’s go.”