In the Air (8 page)

He held out his hand to me and I noticed the tattoos across his fingers spelling out love.
He's sexy and romantic? What have I done to deserve this?

"My name is Wren. Can I get yours, pretty thing?" He laughed lightly, mocking the asshole that had just hit on me.

"Beauty and wit. This must be my lucky day." I shook his hand and the attraction flared. "My name is Kingsley." Without letting go, he lightly stroked the inside of my wrist with his thumb. "I noticed your accent, Wren. Where are you from?"

He dropped my hand and picked up his drink to take a sip. I was already feverish from this man, but the way he licked his lips after taking a sip was going to give me heatstroke.

"I'm from South Africa but have lived in the States for five years. I'm a student at NYU. What about you, Kingsley?" He slid the barstool closer to mine. His hand found my wrist again and began lightly stroking the inside of it. "What's your story?"

His knees hit against mine and I had to stop myself from caressing his thigh. This man was so gorgeous it would take zero effort for him to get into any girl's pants. If he asked me to get naked right in the middle of the bar, I would have happily obliged.

"How about a drink first?" I motioned for Brad and ordered two shots of Jameson. When they arrived, Wren's hand left my skin, leaving it aching. I downed my shot, watching Wren swallow his at the same time. I noticed the black and white rose tattoo that peeked out from under his collar. "How many tattoos do you have?" I wondered just how much of his skin was covered in sexy ink.

"Quite a few. All over my body." His tongue left his mouth and licked the outside of his full lips. I imagined his lips wrapped around my earlobe.

This may have been the longest conversation I'd ever had with a potential sex partner. I felt my entire body needing a release. I could tell Wren wanted me just as much as I wanted him, so I went on to make the first move.

"I'd like to see," I stood up from my barstool, smoothing out my mini-skirt, "all of them."

He was silent for a moment before he smiled. "I think I'd be okay with showing you all of them." Wren stood up and I noticed how much taller he was than me, even with my heels. Finally, a man whose ego wouldn't be bruised by my height.

I led the way to the bathroom in the back. I knew it wasn't the most sanitary thing, but I couldn't wait much longer.

As Wren and I entered the bathroom together, I locked the door behind us and prepared myself for the screaming I would be doing in a matter of minutes.

Three days had passed since the kiss I'd shared with Samson. I wasn't even sure if I should consider it a kiss. Yes, his lips were on mine, technically, but then he pulled away seconds later. I liked it, but not how it made me feel afterwards. Every rehearsal since had been awkward and our only conversations were about dance techniques. From the moment I'd first laid eyes on him, he was like a virus I couldn't seem to kick.

I'd been cooped up in my dorm room the past three hours, contemplating my days here. Before my father died, he told me it was his last wish that I send my audition tape to Juilliard. At first, I laughed.

"I can see the administration watching my audition and laughing at me." I told him.

"Nat, you need to do it. I believe in you."

"You really think I'd make it?" I asked hesitantly.

"You're the best dancer I've ever seen. Don't tell your mom that." He laughed, pulling me into his chest and giving me his crushing bear hug. His encouragement was the one thing that convinced me to follow my dreams. I was here for one reason. Somehow, thoughts of Samson kept deterring me from focusing on those dreams.

Deciding to get some air, I grabbed my purse and headed out. Just as I turned the knob to leave, Kingsley burst in. I jumped back to avoid getting hit in the face by the door.

"I can't believe it. You're actually leaving this dreadful room?" She sashayed past me, dropping her bag on the floor. "Don't tell me you're meeting Samson."

I was already so used to Kingsley's assumptions, that by the second day I was here, it had stopped bothering me.

"No, I thought I would go get some coffee and work on homework. Like you said, this place is dreadful." I wanted to be alone, though I knew I should probably be a good roommate and invite her. "Would you like to join?" I asked half-heartedly.

She laughed and then immediately became serious. "Go to a coffee shop and do homework? Do I really look like the type?"

"No, actually. You look like the type that would have an afternoon filled with random hook-ups."

"I've only known you for a few days, but I think I like you already. We should make best friend bracelets."

I loved Kingsley's sarcasm. Her personality was refreshing and kept me on my toes. Before walking out, I faced her with my own sarcastic smile. "I'll add that to my calendar."

New York City was so different than what I was used to. Mount Prospect wasn't a small town by any means, but the city life had me feeling like a brand new person. I stepped outside and inhaled the air. As I exhaled, I felt weightless. Before coming to New York, I researched places I would have to visit while living here. The typical landmarks, of course, but I also wanted to visit places referenced in my favorite movies and TV shows. I reached for my phone to find a nearby coffee shop and saw that Cafe Lalo was only a mile away. It was featured in You've Got Mail, and since that was one of my favorite movies, I had to visit.

I felt my purse vibrate. Digging out my phone, I saw that I had missed a call from home. My heart grew heavy remembering the times my dad would call to check up on me. It wasn't long ago that I was sitting in the uncomfortable pleather chairs, reading three-year-old magazines, waiting for my dad to finish his chemotherapy treatment. The day he lost his battle to cancer, I lost a piece of myself. Not having my father around for the past year had been extremely hard. Now, with it just being my mother and me, I had to stand up to her by myself. I hadn't figured out how to do that yet.

"Hello, Natalia. I've only talked to you once this week. Your dance teachers must be keeping you very busy."

Immediately, I became irritated. She couldn't even ask how I was doing. "I have been busy. As a matter of fact, I'm on my way to a cafe now to do some homework."

"You mean you're not in the studio practicing? Honey, it's Saturday morning. You should have been practicing for at least two hours already."

I was tempted to hang up, but knew if I did that, the tension would become thicker than it already was. "Mom, I have other classes outside of dance." I stated. My mother didn't understand the rigorous schedule I was faced with my first year. I was completing a four-year degree and at the end, I'd receive my Bachelor of Fine Arts. Since I was getting a degree, it was a requirement for me to take courses outside of dance, ones that focused on writing skills and verbal expression. Even though it was just two Liberal Arts courses I took for the year, my mother believed it would completely take away from the nine classes all centered around dance.

"I don't understand why you didn't just audition for the Milwaukee Ballet School. If you had, you would have been accepted and able to focus on
only
dance." The sternness in her voice grated in my ears.

"You'll never be happy with what I achieve in my life, will you? Even if I would have gone to Milwaukee, you still would have found something wrong."

"I always told you that dancers don't need degrees. If you're good, you'll get into a company."

Her comment fueled my anger. "Mom, I have to go. I'm at the cafe and it's loud in here. I'll talk to you later. Bye." 

As usual, my mother found a way to make me feel as if I was stupid for wanting more. I missed having at least one supportive parent.

I climbed the steps into Cafe Lalo. The inside was just as immaculate as the outside. My eyes immediately went to the expansive glass display, filled with every pastry you could ever want. The brick walls were adorned with colorful paintings throughout the cafe. All but one table was taken, and I grabbed the leather nailhead chair, just as another couple was coming across it. "Sorry, table's taken." They each gave me dirty looks and stormed off. I was already becoming a good New Yorker.

"Good morning. Welcome to Cafe Lalo. My name is Max. Can I take your order?" The man smiled at me, squinting behind his wire-framed glasses.

Being a dancer, you constantly had to be mindful of everything you put into your body. My mother always reminded me not to eat sugar or carbs. Now that I was at Juilliard, I had to be even more conscious of what I ate. Other than the incredible looking pastries that filled the displays, Cafe Lalo had a variety of yummy dishes on their menu, so I chose the organic oatmeal with raisins and hazelnuts. I also ordered a coffee and instructed Max to keep it coming. Caffeine: an addiction I refused to kick.

I sat at my cozy table, drinking my third cup of coffee. I hadn't felt this stress-free since before my dad passed away. I looked up from my paper I was writing, and noticed Samson walking into the shop. My first thought was that he followed me here, but then I snapped back to reality. I dipped down in my seat a moment too late–he spotted me.
Crap, there goes my stress-free afternoon.

"Natalia, what are doing here?" He sat down in the empty chair across from me.

What if I was on a date? What an asshole to assume someone hadn't already claimed that seat.

"They weren't checking names at the door. What are you doing here?" I replied, hoping the bitterness in my voice was evident.

He smiled at me, waving Max over.
Where is this dickhead from that he thinks it's okay to wave people over like they are his personal servants?

"Welcome to Cafe Lalo. My name is Max. Can I take your order?" Max didn't seem at all irritated by Samson's rudeness.

"I'll take a coffee, black, and a blueberry scone." Samson handed the menu to Max without a glance in his direction. As Max walked off, Samson's gaze pierced into me.

"I'm sorry about the other night." He seemed sincere.

"Two apologies in one week? I thought you were bad at those?"

"I am, but I feel like we need to clear the air. Every time we've had a conversation, it's ended with you stomping out of the room." Samson eyed me the same way he did before kissing me.

"I believe it was you and your large ego that stomped out of the room the other night." I gave him my best fake smile.

"Listen, Natalia," he started.

I was surprised Samson didn't called me 'doll', but I had to admit, I liked the way my name rolled off his tongue.

"We obviously got off on the wrong foot. I didn't mean to offend you. I think I'm very different from what you perceive me to be."

"I don't recall inviting you to sit down with me, so if you feel like I'm being too harsh, you can get up and find your own table." I looked around the busy cafe, seeing there weren't any tables available. "Looks like everything is filled up though, so you'll have to get your order to go."

It pissed me off that Samson was bringing out my ugly side. I wasn't the type to speak down to anyone, but he was like a tick that was impossible to remove from the surface.

"Geez, Natalia!" Samson raised his voice and I could tell he was getting angry ... so was I. "You act like I ran over your dog! You really don't know anything about me and it doesn't seem as if you care to learn." Samson stood up, reaching for his wallet.

When I saw him digging through his cash, I knew if I didn't stop him from leaving, we would never last the entire year as dance partners. He had a point, I didn't know him. I lumped him into the same category as the types I'd known in Illinois. The love 'em and leave 'em types. The Cole type. Maybe Samson
was
different.

"Samson, wait," I exhaled, trying to reel in my anger. "You're right. I don't know you that well, and making assumptions is wrong. It's happened to me my whole life and it's awful that I'm being a hypocrite. I'm sorry." I took a deep breath. "It's just ... you have this annoying way about you."

Samson glared down at me. "You're sorry, yet you're still cutting me down?"

"Hear me out. What I'm trying to say is that you portray yourself as someone who's better than everyone else. It just reminds me of someone I used to know." I explained.