In the Wake of Wanting (39 page)

“Do you have chopsticks in your hair?” I ask her as soon as she gets online.

“We ordered in for dinner… they gave us one too many sets and my hair was in my face,” she explains. “Do you have a problem with it?”

“No, it’s cute,” I tell her. “They’re like tiny ossicones.”

“Excuse me?”

I roll my eyes at her. “We need to take a trip to the zoo, laureate. Ossicones. Giraffe
horns
.”

“That’s really what they’re called?”

“Are you accusing me of fabricating words?”

“Well, you have a
New York Times
byline now, so you can be as pretentious as you want to be,” she teases me.

“Are you upset you didn’t want to include your name in this?” I ask her. I’d been wondering all day.

“When I first saw it this morning, yes. I was a little jealous but when I remembered that Asher’s out of jail, I realized it was the best decision I’d made to leave my name off. In fact, I kind of wish your name hadn’t been attached to it now.”

“Why?”

“You’re not afraid?”

“Of Asher? No,” I admit. “He’s not allowed on campus. The whole city’s watching him right now. But I’m still glad we left your name off. I would be afraid for you. I’m sorry if that seems inconsistent or even sexist. I’m bigger than he is and can defend myself. You’re…”

“I’m tiny and I might have a more difficult time. But you haven’t seen me fight.”

“I’ve seen a pretty plucky side of you. I don’t doubt you could do some serious damage with those stabby hair-picks you’re wearing,” I suggest. She starts laughing, then takes out the chopsticks and lets her silky, blonde hair fall gracefully past her shoulders. She rakes her fingers through it once, moving the strands that momentarily obscured her eyes from me. “That is so distracting.”

“What is?”

“The image of you on my computer screen. The whole package. This can never work, Coley. If you were to be in my life every day, I would never get a damn thing done. No. We have to end this thing now.”

“No!” she squeals and giggles. “I can color my hair.” I shake my head. “Or cut it. I could get glasses, or I can cake on my makeup.”

“I don’t think any of those things would make a difference. It’s the
essence
of you. How do you banish an essence? No, the
quintessence
of… simply being alive? Because that’s what you are. You are alive. You are
life
.”

She closes her eyes and shakes her head. “You’re right. It’s over.” Her hand moves quickly toward the camera, and suddenly she’s gone.

I sit up straight, feeling lost. Staring at the blank screen, I wait for her to come back, feeling certain she was joking. I could do homework in the meantime, but her image is still burned in my retinas, and I’m not ready to let that go quite yet.

Five minutes later, I’m concerned and call her.

“That was an
eternity
, Trey.”

“Well, why’d you hang up on me?”

“Because sometimes you’re the most poetic non-poet I’ve ever met, and you make me feel inadequate.”

“Steal my words, Coley. Take their sentiment. Take everything I have, I don’t care.” I swallow hard. “Just don’t leave me like that. So abrupt and unforeseen.”

“I’m sorry,” she says. “I was just playing around.”

“I know. But I felt disoriented. It was jolting, nonetheless.”

“Why isn’t it Friday yet?” she asks. I grin, gripping my bottom lip loosely between my thumb and forefinger, drawing her eyes there. I watch as her tongue juts out briefly to moisten
her
lips. This is how many intimate video chat sessions with Zaina began. Maybe someday in the near future, Coley and I will share something similar.

What am I thinking? She’ll be here in person.
I unbutton my jeans, a task that had become an immediate necessity as I thought about making love to Coley. Before I let myself get carried away, I switch gears.

“Pull up your article, laureate. Let’s get some work done.”

chapter nineteen

Teri, Coley’s roommate, opens the door for me on Friday night. She scans me from head to toe–and then shuts the door in my face. I knock once more.

She opens the door just a crack. “Five more minutes. You can wait down the hall,” she tells me.

“Okay,” I say, curious, but not questioning her. The TV viewing area reminds me of the night I ran over here after my panic attack–the night Coley angrily told me I should have a good alibi after I defended Asher. I decide to wait by the windows instead. The street below is quiet, much different than I imagine frat row is right now. I thought I’d miss the camaraderie, but I don’t–especially after the way I was treated this week.

I’d relied on my old friends for support–Max and Callen–even though they were both in California. Distance wasn’t the only thing separating us. Zaina had decided to fly out to San Diego to stay with Max on Wednesday, so that created its own set of challenges. I know Max can be impartial, though. I’ve relied more on Callen the past two days, giving Max and my ex some time to bond in light of what transpired last weekend.

The soft clatter of high heels isn’t a sufficient warning that Coley’s behind me. I’ve never known her to wear heels before, but it’s her angelic face reflecting in the window, looking eager and excited, that notify me of her presence.

“Hi.” I turn around to get the full visual. She’s got on a light taupe trench coat that stops just above her knees. Beneath that peeks the jagged hemline of a white dress, hanging about two inches below. Her naturally-tanned legs stand tall in three-inch open-toe black heels. When my eyes travel up the length of her body to reach hers, I’m nodding to show my satisfaction. I like that she wore a dress.

“Hi.” She leans in to give me a hug. In addition to the piña colada, I smell a light floral scent, too.

“New perfume?”

“Just body spray,” she says. “It’s Teri’s.”

“It’s nice. You look pretty. That’s not the right word,” I say as I hold on to a strand of her hair.

“Thank you,” she says. “You look like that Polished Trey Holland guy.”

“Do I?”

“Where’s your tie?” she asks.

“Just the jacket tonight,” I confess. “I’ve always hated ties and will avoid them at all costs if I can.”

“Good to know,” she says.

“Why, uh… why’d Teri shut me out back there?” I ask her, taking her hand in mine and walking toward the elevators. Holding her hand is already my new favorite thing to do.

“I was waiting for you to get here before I got dressed.”

“Did you think I wasn’t going to show?”

“Oh!” She laughs. “No! You were just super unhelpful when I asked what I should wear.”

“I think ‘dress comfortably’ is suitable instruction. I did.”

“In your coat and slacks…” she teases.

“It’s very comfortable.” I have to defend my suit choice. It’s my favorite one.

“Had I listened to your
instruction
, I would have been wearing my Punjammies and a tank top. Now
that’s
comfortable.”

When the elevator doors open, I stop her from getting in. “I don’t know what that means, but go change.”

“No!” she says. “They’re my
pajamas
, and I wouldn’t be comfortable going out in public with them on. I assume we’re going out in public.”

I signal for her to step into the elevator and follow her inside. “Yes.”

“So you need to be more specific when you tell me to dress comfortably. Like, I’m comfortable in
this
knowing you’re wearing
that
.”

“You don’t need to dress for me or anyone else. One of the little perks of dating me? They’ll let you in no matter what you’re wearing.”

“Punjammies included?”

“I may have to inspect those sometime to see what they are first. But some places, probably.”

“You saw them when I stayed with you.” She pulls up her phone and quickly shows me the patterned pants on a website.

“Those are pajamas? I thought you were just wearing pants all the time because you were being modest.”

“You sound like my pawpaw,” she says with mock sweetness.

I glare at her. “Well, they’re fancy… lots of places would let you in. We’d just say you’re from the East Village.”

“Where are you taking me?”

“Well… it’s going to be a little bit of a disappointment, but it was the best I could do with my poor planning. We’re going to the private dining area at the Rainbow Room.” I hail a cab at the curb and let her in first.

“I think there’s a little disparity in my idea of disappointment and yours,” she explains, her smile wide. “The Rainbow Room?
The
Rainbow Room? Isn’t it closed to the public on Fridays?”

“Yes. We are not the public. Hence the word ‘private’ in private dining.” That earns me an elbow in the gut. “Sorry, that was a smart-ass thing to say. But… having the Holland name has its privileges. This is another. And there just happened to be a cancellation.”

“So, wait. What’s the disappointing part?”

“There’s a live jazz band playing at Bar SixtyFive next door, so we may hear some of their music… I mean. Sorry,” I say, my most insincere apology.

“Let’s dance,” she says, remembering the notebook I gave her and smiling up at me. I put my arm around her. “When did you make this reservation?”

I look away from her when I answer. “Last Saturday.”

“Before you broke up with her?” I nod. “But you made it for me?” Again, I answer in the affirmative.

“I know it was wrong, but I knew where I wanted to take you, and I knew I couldn’t wait any longer or else my chances of making it happen would be even less. It’s a miracle they had availability in the first place.” I look back down at her. “Please don’t think any less of me. I’m a planner. Shit just happened to overlap a little.”

“I understand.”

After paying the driver, we go inside Rockefeller Center and head up to the 65
^th
floor. A host is stationed at the front, waiting for us.

“Trey Holland,” he says. “Right this way.”

“Thank you.”

“Mr. Holland, or Trey?” he asks.

“Trey is fine,” I say with a light chuckle. The guy has to be at least ten years older than me. I can’t have him calling me
Mr. Holland
.

“And your guest?”

“Miss Fitz…” I trail off, looking at her to choose how she’d like to be addressed.

“Coley,” she says.

“Corey?”

“Coley. Rhymes with Holy.”

“
That’s
pretentious,” I whisper under my breath to her. She rolls her eyes and smiles.

After he shows us to the private room, and after thinking about him asking for her name, I hand him a folded 100-dollar bill. “Discretion would be great,” I tell him quietly to the side.

“Yes, sir.”

“Just Trey,” I remind him as I wait for my date to untie the belt on her coat. When she’s finished, I assist her with its removal and hand it to the host. “Wow.” The word slips out when I catch sight of her without the jacket. The lightweight white dress is loosely gathered at her waist with sleeves that just barely cover her shoulders. It has a conservative neckline with a V-shape that only dips about two inches below her collarbone.

“What?”

“When I saw your reflection in the window earlier, the word ‘angelic’ came to mind. I didn’t realize what an accurate description that would turn out to be tonight. And the word ‘holy’ doesn’t seem so pretentious anymore.”

“It’s not too sweet and… demure? I don’t have a whole lot of dresses.”

“I think it’s lovely. I think
you’re
lovely.” At the small table next to the towering windows, I pull out one of the chairs and offer her a seat. She looks out over the city in awe. Sitting across from her, I watch Coley in similar reverence. I’ve seen the New York City skyline hundreds of nights, but I’ve never seen her like this–her face illuminated by a small candle on the table and her eyes bright with the wonderment of the view in front of her.

“Where is our disappointing music?” she ponders aloud.

I look at my watch. “They start in fifteen minutes.”

Two waitresses tend to us and take our drink and appetizer orders. The second they leave, I start to stand up, not wanting to wait any longer to kiss her. Damn the aftermath.

“Back to what we were talking about in the cab,” she starts before I’m to my feet, “I know you had feelings for me when you were dating Zaina.” I adjust my chair, pretending like that’s all I was doing. “Is there a part of me that wishes you didn’t? Of course. Is there a part of me that still considers that cheating? Kind of,” she admits. My stomach ties itself in a knot. “But I respect how you handled it, and I know if she had lived here, you would have done things differently.”