Chapter 20
RUDY AND I are walking Lauren home. She’s drunk, and it turns out drunk Lauren doesn’t have a filter. I’m pretty sure I could get her to fork over her debit PIN right now. When Rudy steps out of earshot to take a call, Lauren lets out a deep sigh.
Classic Lauren, she mumbles, sounding defeated. First Joey . . . And now this guy . . . Odds are the next person I fall for will be a serial killer.
Cheer up, Lauren, I say, in a tone I might use to encourage a toddler to go potty for the first time. There are so many incredible fish in the sea . . .
She lets out a sarcastic chuckle. Name one.
I pause to give it some thought, then triumphantly thrust my hand into the air—the hand that’s not about to die off from the lack of blood supply caused by Lauren’s comically huge costume.
My coworker Marcel, I suggest.
Lauren looks up at me with a watery smile. Maybe you should set us up some time. I’m sick and tired of falling for the wrong men.
Eh . . . I respond, feeling a bit awkward. I’m pretty sure Lauren isn’t Marcel’s type. Her twin brother would be way more up his alley.
Unless you like this Marcel guy? she wonders, sounding curious. I could have sworn you had a crush on my brother.
On Rudy? I let out an overexaggerated laugh, then quickly look back over my shoulder.
He’s still strolling behind us, but he looks up in surprise. After ditching his hat and wig, he looks like the kind of pirate I’d be happy to share a cream cheese bagel with.
Yes, on Rudy, Lauren replies firmly. Sure, he’s a total womanizer, but if we’re being honest, I’ve only ever seen him look at one other girl the way he looks at you. And I like you a lot more than I liked her. She was such a witch—oops.
She stumbles over an uneven chunk of sidewalk and I’m barely able to keep her from crashing face-first to the ground. As I hoist her upright again, I need to stop myself from taking advantage of the situation. I’m so desperate to poke her for more information.
Lauren thinks Rudy likes me? Me? The walking verbal waterfall with a neurotic need to fill uncomfortable silences with the kind of rambling that drives everyone up the wall?
The person so obsessed with the one holiday Rudy hates the most that she’ll hang ornaments from anything that sticks out far enough and looks strong enough to hold one?
Lauren . . . I begin. My level of curiosity is finally out of my hands. What mak—?
Do you think I should call Joey . . .? Lauren’s mind is suddenly a million miles away. Or maybe it’s been there the whole time. To ask him why he’s such a dick? He tells me he’s in love with me, then I throw myself at him, and then he rejects me. Asshole.
I look at her, stunned. I did not see that one coming. I assumed she was secretly in love with Joey and that he didn’t feel the same way about her. At least that’s what I figured from Joey’s interactions with Princess Bubblegum and all the hateful glares Lauren’s been shooting their way.
But why? I ask.
She gives me a sad look. Her face is lit up by the curved lamp post towering over us. She looks tired.
I bet it has something to do with that other asshole over there, she mumbles, poking her thumb back over her shoulder.
Something bro-code-y, probably. ‘I can’t screw over my buddy like that.
’ But now it’s been over four months of me chasing some guy who wants me, but thinks he’s not allowed to go near me.
And I just have to keep pretending I don’t care that he’s been dry-humping that inbred unicorn. Thanksgiving is gonna be a blast.
I bite my lip. If Rudy’s rant at Wollman Rink was any indication, Joey might not have any fingers left to touch Lauren with, even if she does figure out how to seduce him.
Thanksgiving? I ask with curiosity.
Yeah. Joey always spends Thanksgiving in the Hamptons with us. He’s originally from Brighton. That’s in England. She wobbles again, clinging to me for balance. Hang on . . . You’re from the Netherlands.
I am, I chuckle, even though it’s a bit rude to laugh while Lauren’s feeling so shitty.
Why don’t you come with us for Thanksgiving? My parents will love you and my mom will stuff you with food. Her pumpkin pie is the best one you’ll ever taste. In fact, that might be the reason why Joey keeps joining us every year . . .
That was Joey, Rudy says, interrupting our conversation.
Now that he’s caught up with us, he quickly moves to Lauren’s other side. Stooping down a little, he flings her free arm over his shoulder so we can keep her upright together.
He was on a first date that— Rudy bursts out laughing. I promised him I wouldn’t say anything, but it’s pretty funny. He finally managed to escape through the kitchen at the bar.
Lauren looks up in surprise. Wasn’t Joey dating that chick with the rainbow hair?
Rudy cocks his head and chuckles. Nah, that was another bust. This guy has never met anyone he still liked after five dates. I have no idea why.
Maybe he just keeps picking the wrong girls. I wink at Lauren as her cheeks flush a deep red.
What were you two talking about? he asks, ignoring my comment. It clearly went over his head.
I invited Emma to join us for Thanksgiving, Lauren replies.
We go silent as Rudy’s eyes shift from Lauren to me, then back again. As his gaze slowly softens, a corner of his mouth tips up.
Nice.
We’re on our way home after dropping Lauren off safely at a building that seemed to be in a lot better shape than ours. Her place is in SoHo, about thirty blocks away.
Well, that was an interesting night, Rudy says, shaking his head.
It’s relatively quiet out at this time of night compared to the bustle of daytime traffic, but the streets are far from empty.
People are out walking their dogs, or standing around smoking on the sidewalk, and great music drifts out toward us from every bar we pass.
I’m not ready for bed yet. It’s Saturday night and I so rarely go out to parties.
I’m starting to notice how cold it can get in New York at the end of October. I wrap my coat a little tighter around my body. Do you think the Halloween party is still going? I ask.
Not sure, Rudy replies. We can go check it out if you want. I just need to grab something warmer to wear. I’m freezing. His nose has slowly been turning red and he gives it a rub.
One refreshing walk later, we head into our building.
Going by the muffled music and the sound of voices coming from some of the apartments we pass, it looks like some folks have decided to move the party to a slightly warmer indoor setting.
Almost in sync, we both hop over the crumbling step in the last flight of stairs, before each grabbing a warm sweater and coat from our apartments.
Not much later, we swing open the rooftop door to see that it’s been more or less abandoned.
A few pumpkins have been stomped on—most likely the aftermath of a rampage of zombies, witches, and nurses with compromised motor skills after drinking a little too much punch.
The big black spiders that used to be attached to the wall, are now lying on the ground.
One of them has been disembowelled, its stuffing scattered across the rooftop patio.
My money’s on Kidney Karl. The keg is long gone and the bar has been left unattended.
Too bad everyone left already, Rudy says, looking around.
Oh, check it out . . . There’s still some hot chocolate.
He hands me a glass bottle filled with brown liquid.
I guess it’s not hot anymore, but cold chocolate works, too.
He takes a swig, then immediately spits it out, tossing his bottle aside.
Scratch that. That must have been some of the brown tap water you were dealing with a while back.
His lips curl into a crooked grin. You know, that time you showed up half-naked at my door looking for help.
Rolling my eyes, I head over to the bar where I conjure up two bottles of beer before settling in on a little bench near the edge of the roof. There’s a cheeky look on my face when I gaze back at him. You coming? I ask, holding out his beer.
When Rudy joins me on the bench, he sits down so much closer than strictly necessary.
With the side of his body brushing against mine, he slips his right arm around my shoulders.
I stiffen for a beat, then let myself slowly melt into him.
His thumb gently strokes my shoulder as we gaze out over the city that never sleeps.
The buildings in our line of sight aren’t as lit up as they were earlier tonight, but there’s still no denying how many night owls have chosen to make New York City their home.
There’s not a single star in the sky. It’s like they’ve all tumbled down from above, sprinkling the city with their light.
Bright lights in every colour of the rainbow.
The hustle and bustle of the evening has settled down.
I feel the chilly October breeze teasing through my hair, but I don’t feel cold anymore.
Rudy and I are wrapped in our own little cocoon of warmth with the most stunning view we could ever wish for.
He moves his hand from my shoulder to a lock of curly blonde hair halfway down my arm.
It’s gorgeous up here, I whisper.
We fall into silence and—for once in my life—I don’t feel the need to fill it with pointless jibber jabber.
It really is, he agrees.
Do you spend a lot of time up here? I wonder.
If it had crossed my mind at any time to come scope out the roof situation, I’m sure I would have been up here all the time these past weeks.
Not really, no, he says quietly. I’ve never had the right company before.
I lean to the side a little so I can see his face.
He’s wearing a playful grin that slowly melts away as we gaze at each other, his pupils so wide that I can barely see the hazel colour in his eyes.
With his full lips slightly parted, I can feel his breath on my face.
Locking my eyes onto his, I notice my pulse begin to race.
I couldn’t look away if I tried. It’s like he’s hypnotizing me with his intense stare.
A stare that radiates: I want to strip every single piece of clothing from your body. I want you. Naked. Now.
My breath grows shallow as my body prepares to do something extremely stupid. Something I really shouldn’t be doing. Not with Rudy the womanizer. Not with my neighbour. Not with my new friend.
But when Rudy draws me close and presses his lips to mine, I reject all sense and rationality. Everything telling me that this isn’t smart. That I’m going to regret what’s about to happen.
He twists his fingers into my hair, his tongue gently sweeping along my lower lip.
Any trace of doubt evaporates from my mind as I grab onto his wool jacket, squeezing it into a tight grip.
He’s gentle when he lifts me up, guiding me into a straddle on his lap, all the while exploring every corner of my mouth with his tongue.
A deep groan escapes his throat when I start to move, desperate for friction.
His big hands sweep along my hips, over my breasts, and up to my face, where his thumbs caress my cheeks.
And we kiss. Truly kiss. In this moment, there is nothing but this kiss.
He tastes like a mixture of beer and sweet punch with a touch of mint.
The tip of his nose is cold and it tickles my cheek as he deepens our kiss, making my body tingle with want.
I want so much more. In a feverish frenzy, I start to unzip his coat when there’s a sudden crash of breaking glass nearby.
Startled, we look up. A few steps away is the last person I would ever want to see right now, staring at us with wide eyes.
Okay, maybe it’s the second to last person. Bottom of the list would be my Oma, who always flips the channel away from her favourite Dutch soap opera any time there’s what she considers an inappropriate scene.
Kate is staring at us, mouth agape and still dressed in her nurse costume. My eyes drift to the shards of glass scattered around her feet from the wine bottle she dropped a moment ago.
I, um . . . I . . . Sorry . . . she splutters. Her expression shifts to compassion as she looks at me. He’s not looking for anything serious, she finally says, before turning her focus to Rudy. I’m just warning her so she doesn’t end up in the same situation I was in. No one deserves that.
And then she turns and marches off. Once we hear the door close behind her, Rudy lowers his forehead to my collar bone in defeat.