Chat Love (14 page)

I sigh and lift myself up from the padded floor. When I look around I see Ian and Stephanie kissing, Corey and his date whispering to one another, Autumn and Wayne talking, and Danni talking to Chris. Of course, Chris decided to bring Jackson along, and he’s staring at me with a devilish grin on his face. I’m not surprised that he just so happened to arrive while I was the one making a fool of myself on the bull.

I walk over to my friends, my eyes still focused on Jackson. Out of the corner of my eye I see Sam standing near the entrance, applauding my performance. Torn between Jackson and Sam, I choose to walk over to Sam, since I did invite him.

As I make my way to Sam I see confusion spread across Jackson’s face. He looks over in the direction that I am walking and frowns, glaring at Sam.

Sam embraces me, giving me a polite kiss on the cheek. “Hey, that was great!” He pulls away and looks at me, “You look beautiful tonight, by the way.”

I blush. “Thank you.” I look back over at my friends and see them staring at the two of us. I sigh. “OK, let’s go introduce you to everybody. Also, would you mind not mentioning Chat Love tonight?”

He cocks his head to the side. “OK, Lucia. No problem.” He smiles, and we walk over to the group hand-in-hand.

My friends all seem to really like Sam. Autumn is already convinced that he will be my husband, Danni thinks he’s drop-dead gorgeous and is now considering joining Chat Love herself, and the boys all consider him to be a pretty decent guy. With the exception of Jackson, who’s been characteristically rude, everybody seems to think that Sam is quite a catch. It’s important to me that my friends like him, and I’m thrilled that things are working out so well. Plus, he’s exactly the type of person my parents will like, and I have a sneaking suspicion that he might even make my sister a bit jealous, which would be a perk.

A few hours later, Sam needs to leave to go meet his friends. I walk him to his car, and we linger outside the restaurant, his arms wrapped around my middle.

“Are you sure you can’t leave and come with me?” he asks, smiling hopefully.

I bite my lip. “I want to, but I can’t. It’s my friend’s birthday, and I promised I’d stay.”

“I understand. I do want to see you again, though. When can I see you next? I have to go to Chicago next week on business, but I’d love to see you before then.”

Normally, I’d suggest tomorrow night, but I have another date with a different guy from Chat Love. Even though my interest in Sam is growing, I don’t want to tell him about my date and hurt his feelings.

“What about Sunday?” I suggest.

He smiles and nods. “You have a deal,” he says, leaning in close to me. He nuzzles my jaw, whispering, “You smell wonderful.” He moves to my lips and kisses me softly. I sigh and kiss him back, feeling tingles spread throughout my body. I pull him close and smile as we kiss, ignoring someone yelling at us to get a room; this moment feels too good.

After Sam has left, I take my seat at our table, a big smile on my face. Danni raises her eyebrow at me, already aware. She’s always been able to sense when I’ve been up to something. Chris is next to her, kissing her neck, and Jackson is sitting next to him, glaring at me in a way that makes me uncomfortable. I excuse myself and walk to the bathroom.

As I emerge from the bathroom I see Alan step out into the corridor, shaking with anger.

Fed up with his behavior, I shout, “Why are you following me?”

Alan takes a few steps closer to me. “I think it’s amusing how you are all over that jerk when you should be like that with me.”

I walk over to him and stick my finger in his face. “You tell me right now how you keep following me. Stop stalking me, or I’ll call the police,” I threaten

He laughs loudly and grabs my hand, squeezing it so hard that I wince in pain. “The police will only laugh at you. It’s not my fault that you’re too stupid to realize that your Facebook profile is available to everybody on the Internet.”

Suddenly, a deep voice interjects. “What’s going on here?”

Alan and I turn and see Jackson standing in the hallway, his eyes focused on our hands. Alan immediately drops my hands, tensing up.

Jackson steps closer, fire in his eyes. “Were you just touching her?”

Alan shakes his head. “No, I wasn’t.” He’s visibly nervous, which is confusing, considering how he had been acting tough just a few moments before.

Jackson takes a step closer to Alan, towering over him. “You had better stay away from the lady. Do you understand what I’m saying?”

Alan nods his head frantically. “I’m sorry; I just got a bit carried away.” He gives me a final glance and then turns and walks away, heading straight for the exit.

I turn to Jackson and see his eyes watching me carefully. His facial expression makes me want to take a step back. He looks like a tiger waiting to pounce on its prey.

I quickly mutter, “Thank you, Jackson.”

“Who was that guy?” he asks, his eyes still revealing anger.

“He was nobody. It’s not important.”

“Are you OK? Did he hurt your hand?” Jackson asks with genuine concern.

I lift my hand, inspecting it for signs of serious damage. It’s sore, and there will probably be a few bruises by morning, but it’s nothing to be concerned about. Jackson gently takes my hand in his, examining it carefully. Satisfied that it isn’t broken, he brings it to his mouth, kissing it softly.

“You need to make sure that he doesn’t bother you again, or I’ll have to make sure myself, OK?”

“I will. I already know what I’m going to do about it,” I assure him. I’m already planning on making my Facebook fully private, as well as planning on reporting Alan to the Chat Love staff.

Jackson looks deep into my eyes. “What about the other guy that came to visit you tonight? Do you really see yourself with him?”

“Lu?” I hear a woman’s voice call out.

Jackson and I turn to see Autumn staring at us with her hands on her hips. “Are you ready to go?” she asks, tapping her toe on the floor.

I nod my head, thankful for the interruption. I turn to Jackson and pull my hand out of his grasp. “Thank you again, Jackson. I’ll see you at work on Monday.”

The next day Corey comes to our apartment, flustered after an unexpected turn of events from the previous evening. Apparently, he had taken his date back to his apartment only to discover that she was a virgin. When he’d asked her age and demanded to see her license, he had discovered that she was sixteen years old and still in high school. After forcing her to call her parents and let them know that she was safe, Corey had reluctantly allowed her to stay the night, immediately sending her home in a cab the following morning. As he tells the story, Corey is nervously pacing the floor in front of Autumn and I. We are seated on our couch, trying our best to calm him down and ease his fears. Although he hadn’t broken any laws, Corey is still nervous that rumors could damage his career if anyone were to find out.

“Corey, it was an honest mistake. She did look young, but she was hanging out at a bar. It was logical for you to assume that she was older,” I say, trying to remind him that he didn’t actually do anything illegal. After plenty of reassuring, Corey finally leaves, freeing me up to get dressed for my date.

Tonight I am going on a date with an older gentleman named Drew. Drew isin his early forties and is attractive, smart, and successful. He is also ready to get married and have children—and not afraid to say so. Drew has dark hair with just the slightest amount of grey showing, causing him to appear handsome and mature.

I initially thought that dating someone so ready to settle down would be a good idea, but I’m beginning to have second thoughts. Drew wants to get married as soon as I’m ready to walk down the aisle, and it makes me uncomfortable that he is almost
too
eager to marry.

Drew selected Danielle’s, one of the most expensive restaurants in the city, for our date. We’ve just finished eating dinner, and are currently engaged in a conversation about our lives. Although the conversation isn’t anything spectacular, it is thought provoking—it partially reminds me of having a conversation with my father.

We are enjoying our dessert wine when Drew gives me a wide smile. “So, do you really want to get married and have children?” he asks, still grinning. I take a sip of my wine and nod my head. He continues, “When do you want to get married?”

I chuckle. “Well, my parents would probably prefer that I get married as soon as possible and have a honeymoon baby.”

His smile grows wider. “So does that mean you wouldn’t be opposed to getting married in a couple of months?”

“Wait, what?” I ask, completely thrown off guard. “Are you serious?”

“Completely,” he replies, a businesslike smile on his face. “I want to get married as soon as I can, and I want a baby right away. I want a wife who will stay home and take care of our children, cook, and clean. I want a woman who will be dedicated to my family. I am not getting any younger, so I can’t wait.” He gives me a stern look. “Have you had a test to determine your fertility?”

From then on, my only concern was finding a way to end the date and leave the restaurant, sooner rather than later.

On Sunday Sam and I meet up at Union Square Park. We go to a movie, but I haven’t a clue what it was about because Sam’s lips were on mine the entire time. After the movie we walk around Union Square for a while, holding hands and talking, then eat dinner at a Mexican restaurant I had never been to. Overall, the date was perfect.

Sam is leaving for Chicago on Monday and won’t be back until next Sunday, leaving me with a full week’s worth of time without him. Even though he promised to text and e-mail me throughout his trip, I’m still going to miss him a lot. While thinking about what I can do this week to help distract me from missing him, I can’t help but think to myself,
Maybe I’ve finally found my Mr. Right.

Several days have gone by since Sam left for Chicago, and I still haven’t heard a word from him. On Thursday morning I texted and e-mailed him, but I never got a response. Skyler keeps assuring me that he is probably just busy, and I want to believe that but am having difficulty doing so.

Although the week has been stressful enough with thoughts of Sam’s silence crowding my head, Jackson has only added to my troubles by finding every excuse to touch me at work. For several days now, he’s been brushing against me constantly, behaving as though he’s a klutz, only so that he can find another chance to “accidentally” bump into me. It’s true that I’m attracted to him, but his recent behavior is annoying the crap out of me. I’m getting tired of his games, and I absolutely cannot wait for the weekend to arrive.

By Friday I am looking forward to a date with a new man after work. His name is Stan, and he is an Asian man with dark hair, brown eyes, and an adorable smile. I have spoken to him only once on the phone, but he seems very polite and was raised to be a gentleman, growing up with four sisters and a single mother.

I leave straight from the office and take a cab to Candle 79, a restaurant known for their signature vegan dishes, cocktails, and desserts. I see Stan waiting near the hostess stand, and I wave to get his attention. He gives me a big smile, and walks over to where I’m standing, taking my arm and leading me to our table.

Dinner is delicious, and I am impressed that Stan chose a vegan restaurant to fit my vegetarian lifestyle. We’re still enjoying each other’s company, so we decide to go to another bar for more drinks. We arrive and take a seat on two stools, each ordering our drink of choice. It isn’t long before we’re engaged in a fast-paced game of twenty questions, each asking the other random things in an attempt to get to know one another better. It’s Stan’s turn, and he places his hand on my thigh, rubbing my leg as he tries to come up with a question.

“What’s one of your biggest pet peeves, regarding men?” he asks with a smile.

I take a sip of my wine and think. “I don’t like guys who play games. I think men should be straightforward with their feelings.”

“I respect that. And don’t worry, I don’t play games.” He winks at me and takes a sip of his drink.

“What’s yours?” I ask.

He rubs my leg harder. “Hair,” he answers. I cock my head sideways in question. He continues, “I hate it when women have hairy legs. I like smooth legs. How often do you shave?”

I raise my eyebrows, surprised by the bluntness of his question. “It depends.”

He moves closer to me. “Do you shave anywhere else?”

“What?” I ask, beginning to feel uncomfortable.

He gives me a devious grin and begins sliding his hand higher on my thigh. “Do you shave anywhere else besides your legs?” His hand comes to rest on my crotch. “Do you shave here?” he asks, casting a quick glance downward and then back at me, as if I don’t already understand what he’s asking.

I am in too much shock to answer him. I quickly push his hand away and lean back on my barstool. I have never been asked about my shaving preference by anyone, much less a man I was meeting for the first time.

Undeterred, he continues, “Lucia, will you let me shave you?” In a low voice he adds, “I’ll let you shave me.”

Disgusted, I stand up quickly, snatching up my coat and purse. “I have to leave, now. It was nice meeting you, Stan. Please do not contact me again.”

I dash out of the bar and into the rain, not caring about getting wet and only wishing to get as far away from Stan as possible.

The next night I find myself sharing a table with Andrew, a man in his early thirties who was born into wealth and has therefore never had to work a day in his life. He is spoiled, rude, crude, and more of an annoyance than anything else. We have only been on the date for thirty minutes and I’m already looking for an excuse to leave. Andrew has been prattling on about himself, only pausing occasionally to snap at the wait staff as if they are his personal attendants. Although some of his stories are interesting, he is so condescending and full of himself that I don’t even want to hear his voice anymore.

Ignoring whatever he’s saying, I look down at my Chanel purse, fiddling with the strap. Ironically, I used to view this purse as lucky, taking it along on every first date. As of late, however, I’ve just been meeting one idiot after another. I look back up at Andrew and notice that he is still talking while checking out a young girl in a tight dress sitting at the table to our left. Andrew is attractive, and is clad in a suit that probably cost more than several months of my rent, and the girl is flirting back, fluttering her eyelashes playfully. I’m amused by the fact that there is no break in his conversation; he appears to be a free-flowing fountain of arrogance.