Cat leans against the kitchen counter. “I’m not sure. Usually she’s pretty open when she’s dating someone. But for some reason she has been quiet about this one.” She shrugs, then wanders into the bathroom and runs the shower.
I recline on my bed, my phone vibrating with a text. When I see it’s from Michael, pleasure sings through my bloodstream.
Michael: Hey! What are you up to tomorrow afternoon? I thought of another classic New York place you need to see.
Well, that sounds interesting. And what a great opportunity for me to test my we-can-just-be-friends theory.
Alex: I’m free, what were you thinking?
Michael: It’s a surprise. Pick you up at 3 p.m.
A surprise? My stupid heart skitters about with excitement, and I make myself inhale deeply. We’re just friends, for God’s sake. My body isn’t listening, but it’s fine.
Alex: Sounds good :)
I set my phone down and reach for my laptop, determined to get started on an article for Justin. But as I stare at the flashing cursor, my mind keeps straying to Michael, to what this little surprise of his could be.
No, I tell myself firmly. I’m not going to keep daydreaming about him, about the things he said, about how vulnerable he looked when he told me he liked me…
Shit, this is harder than I thought.
The blinking cursor is mocking me from the screen, so I force myself to get some words down. Any words.
How to be just friends with someone when you have a huge crush on them and want nothing more than to rip their clothes off…
There. That’s a start.
I stare at the words, willing my fingers to write more, but they’re frozen. I still can’t believe Michael likes me. And now he’s taking me somewhere as a surprise, and that’s really sweet. Because he’s sweet, isn’t he? And now I might get to spend New Year’s Eve with him, and if I do…
Cat comes back into the living room and I jump, slamming my laptop shut. Jesus, I’ve been sitting here in a Michael-induced daze for forty minutes. How the hell did that happen?
“I shouldn’t have eaten that burger,” Cat says as she wanders to the kitchen. “Now I feel bloated.”
I take in her sexy fitted black dress, her perfectly styled hair, her flawless makeup. She looks fantastic, but I notice again that she doesn’t look like her normal self.
“You look great! Besides, at least you won’t be hungry now.”
“I guess,” she mutters, grabbing her purse. Then she stops, forcing the air from her lungs. “Wouldn’t it be great if we could just be ourselves around men without having to play all these stupid games?”
“Yeah,” I answer automatically. Then I pause, thinking of the way I behave when I’m around Michael. For the most part, I think, I’ve just been myself. Okay, sure—I haven’t told him I’ve been picturing him naked, or that I’m writing a romance novel based on what I want him to do to me, but I’m not putting on an act or trying to impress him. Am I?
Cat pulls on her coat and gives me a weary smile. “I’ll catch you later. Hopefully I’ll have a wonderful story to tell you about how I’ve met a rich and sexy guy. Wish me luck!”
I give her a big grin, holding up crossed fingers as she leaves. I wish she would see how fun she is when she’s simply being herself, and not try to impress men so much.
As the door closes behind her, I turn back to my laptop, feeling an idea blossom in my mind. I open a new document and start an article for Justin. This time, I’m inspired by Cat—by what she said about playing games and putting on an act and feeling like you can’t be yourself. Because when you’re single, you’re free of all that.
The words flow quickly, and it’s not long before I have a rough draft. I’m smiling as I set my laptop aside, imagining my words on Bliss Edition. Then I lie back on the bed, wondering where on earth Michael could be taking me tomorrow.
24
I look at the corner building across the street, wide-eyed. There’s a red canopy running around the ground level displaying the words “Strand Bookstore,” and several matching banners above.
“What is this place?” I ask Michael. I have a feeling I’m going to like the answer.
He grins as the crosswalk signal goes and we step out onto the street. “It’s the biggest bookstore in the city. Eighteen miles of books.”
I stop in the middle of the road, turning to him in disbelief. “Eighteen miles?” I might not have quite mastered the conversion of kilometers to miles, but I do know that’s an awful lot of books.
Michael grabs my arm and drags me across to the curb with a chuckle. Then, we enter through the doors into what I can only describe as my idea of heaven. There are books everywhere I turn, and the space is huge. It’s not just some cute nook in the Village, like Between the Lines; it’s the whole ground floor of this building. It’s not just books, either; there are bags and bookmarks and mugs and socks and buttons and every conceivable item a book lover could want.
Sweet Jesus. How did I not know this place existed? I should have come straight here from the airport! Why have I been wasting my time on the rest of the city?
“This is amazing,” I breathe.
“I thought you’d like it. There are three more floors too.”
“More floors?!” I spy a stack of shopping baskets by the door and lunge on one, giddy with excitement.
Michael laughs. “Maybe you should get a cart.”
“Oh, yes!” I glance around and his eyes crinkle in amusement.
“I was kidding.”
“Oh.” Heat warms my cheeks and I shrink. Who gets this excited about books?
You know what? I do.
I straighten my shoulders, thinking back to the conversation with Cat yesterday. I don’t need to impress Michael—in fact, if I’m going to
