Harvard Hottie (10 page)

“I find that hard to believe,” I say.

“I guarantee it,” he says. “You go up to Maine, you won’t find anything better.”

“All right,” I agree reluctantly. I’m hungry, I suppose. A casual dinner won’t be so bad. “But only on one condition: you have to let me treat.”

“That seems fair,” Luke says, grinning at me. “I mean, I bought you a five-thousand-dollar dress yesterday, so… I guess this will even things up.”

Like I said, I really hate Luke sometimes.

Luke leads me through the Yard and into Harvard Square. One thing that always shocked me about the Square was the amount of homeless people begging in the streets. I grew up in suburban New Jersey, so beggars were not something I was used to. In the beginning, I used to feel obligated to hand out change to everyone who asked me for it, but then I realized I was going through like ten dollars every time I went through the Square. I’ve learned to look straight ahead and ignore the pleas for spare change.

The good weather has brought out all the beggars today. There’s a band playing in the middle of the Square with a guitar case open for contributions, then a guy with a violin across the street with a baseball cap filled with coins and dollar bills, and about twenty feet from him, a girl with a banjo and a harmonica taking loose change in a shoe box. I don’t mind the street performers as much, although they make walking through the square a kind of cacophonous experience.

Then there’s the homeless people. They are much more persistent and will hold out a hand and ask for change as you go by. It’s very hard for someone like me, with my upper-middle-class guilt, to ignore. I could give them each a dollar. It wouldn’t break me. After all, I just wore a five-thousand-dollar dress last night.

Luke’s presence seems to somehow amplify the begging, though. It’s not really clear why. I guess he looks wealthy in his Armani suit, and there’s just something about him that cries out, “I have money!”

He pretty much ignores them until a homeless guy in a wheelchair approaches us. It’s not clear why the homeless man is in a wheelchair. He’s got both his legs and they seem to be moving. In fact, the wheelchair doesn’t even have footrests like Luke’s does, and he’s using his legs as well as his arms to propel himself forward. “Hey, man,” the guy says to Luke. “How about a few dollars, from one
crip to another?”

Luke looks the guy up and down, taking in his perfectly functional-looking legs, and the wheelchair that looks like it was swiped from the steps of a hospital. “Why don’t you get a job?” he retorts.

“You know what it’s like, man,” the homeless guy says.

“No, I don’t,” Luke says. He looks pointedly at the guy’s legs. “Why do you need a wheelchair?”

“Because I’m crippled!” the guy says.

Luke shakes his head in disgust. “What you’re doing,” he says, “is despicable. Get the fuck away from me.”

The guy sneers at us as we head down the street. “Yeah, fuck you, you bitter crippled fucker!” he yells after us.

“Unbelievable,” Luke mutters under his breath. “When I think about all the time I spent trying to get out of this chair, then I see some guy who can obviously walk pulling that crap… it’s just… insulting.”

Luke seems troubled for a moment, but then his shoulders relax when we reach the bar and grill. It’s a small, smoky restaurant called Charlie’s, and I find it hard to believe this place serves anything besides greasy burgers. There’s one step to enter, and Luke does a little wheelie to get inside. I’m sort of beginning to think he looks a bit cool when he does that.

“This place has the best lobster rolls in New England?” I ask skeptically. “Do they even have lobster in a place like this?”

“Of course,” Luke says. “This is Boston. They have lobster at McDonald’s.”

Luke’s undone his tie completely and it’s hanging loose around his neck. I would have thought he’d look really out of place in a bar like this, but actually, he seems very comfortable. I guess this is a place he comes to a lot.

“Luke!” A pretty waitress hurries over to us from behind the bar. To my surprise, she bends over and gives him a hug. I feel a twinge of something in my stomach as I watch the embrace. “Oh my God, it’s been ages since we’ve seen you!” she says in a thick Boston accent that I hardly ever hear in the office or in fancy art gallery parties out in Newton. I suspect she’d say it “Hahvahd Yahd.” Luke, who’s a native of Massachusetts, has no accent to speak of.

“Sorry, Tina,” Luke says, smiling up at her. “I’ve been pretty busy with work.”

“Taking over the world, huh?” Tina says, slugging him in the shoulder. She then turns and smiles brightly at me. “And who’s this?”

“This is my friend Ellie,” he says. And somehow I feel irked that he introduced me as a “friend” in front of this pretty waitress. Even though it’s completely accurate.

“Just a friend, eh?” Tina asks playfully.

“Absolutely,” Luke says.

“You’re a lucky girl,” Tina says to me. “Luke is wicked cute.”

The bar is narrow and Luke propels himself forward by grabbing onto barstools. The front is all booths, so we have to go to the back before we get to an appropriate seat. After Tina leads us to our table, I give Luke a quizzical look, “How do you know the waitress so well?”

Luke blushes a bit. “Well, we went on a couple of dates a while back,” he admits.

“Seriously?” I look back at Tina again. She’s attractive. Not drop-dead gorgeous or anything, but definitely really pretty.

He shrugs as he slips his entire hand between the pages of the menu to open it up. “I was eating here a lot because I was doing some work in the area at the time. Honestly, I think she just went out with me because she felt bad for me that I was eating all alone every day. We had two fairly awkward dates.” He leans forward and says in a low voice, “We didn’t even kiss.”

“Oh,” I say. Why do I feel relieved to hear that?

“Anyway,” he says, “we agreed it wasn’t a match and that was it. She’s married now, just doesn’t wear her ring because she gets better tips this way. But she was having some legal issues about a year ago and I helped her out.”

“Well, aren’t you the altruist?” I laugh.

“What?” he says. “You think I’m a terrible, coldhearted businessman?”

“Sort of,” I admit. “I mean, you don’t get rich by being nice.”

“You don’t think I’m nice?” he asks in a hurt voice.

Actually, the truth is, I think he’s very nice. It’s hard to believe that such an arrogant prick evolved into the man sitting across from me right now. “You’re sort of nice,” I say grudgingly and Luke seems pleased.

We both order double lobster rolls. I’m shocked when a hot dog bun arrives stuffed with juicy lobster. I’m blown away. I take a bite and it’s incredible. I stare up at Luke in amazement. “How did I never know about this place in college?” I ask.

“If we had gone out,” Luke says, “I would have taken you here. Your whole college experience would have been different.”

“I don’t doubt that,” I say. I add with a bit of sarcasm, “I’m sure we would have been a great couple.”

Luke shakes his head. “Boy, you really hated me. I wish you realized… how I felt about you. I guess it’s my fault for being such an arrogant asshole, though.”

Luke is looking at me now and his dark eyes seem very intense. There’s a small part of me that does wonder what life would have been like if I had given him a chance. What would eighteen-year-old Luke Thayer have been like as a boyfriend?  Would he have doted on me?  Would we have had thrilling debates within the confines of his tiny dorm room bed?

But somehow, I’m wondering more what thirty-four-year-old Luke Thayer would be like as a boyfriend.

***

We devour our lobster rolls, then head back to Luke’s car. It’s getting late and he looks kind of exhausted. It occurs to me that he woke up at God knows what time and has been working pretty much nonstop ever since. And it’s Sunday, for God’s sake.

“Don’t you ever take a break?” I ask him as he turns over the engine.

“Never,” he replies. “I like to be active.”

“When is the last time you took a vacation?”

“I don’t know. Maybe 2009?”

“What’s the point of having so much money if you can’t enjoy it?”

He glances at me for a second. He’s pushing his way through the traffic in Harvard Square, being his usual aggressive self. I don’t know how he can drive like this. I’m having palpitations just watching. “I enjoy working,” he says simply.

How could that be?  Even if he likes his job, everyone needs a vacation every once in a while. He must miss going to Greece. But maybe it isn’t as much fun if you don’t have someone to go with.

Somehow the drive back to my apartment is quiet, other than the honks of horns as Luke barrels through traffic. Every minute or two, I steal a glance over at Luke, although I’m careful not to stare. He’s really incredibly good-looking, more so than any other guy I’ve ever known. Certainly more so than any man I’ve dated. I notice that his temples are starting to gray a bit, which only gives him more character. Men are lucky in that respect. My gray hairs just make me look old, which is why I yank them out.

He parks behind my building on a quiet street, under a large tree. “Thanks for dinner,” he says to me. “I had a great time.”

I laugh. “My pleasure.” I felt a little ridiculous forking over $20 when Luke had paid so much for my outfit yesterday. “Thanks for the dress. It’s really beautiful.”

“You look just as good in this one,” he says earnestly. “Or… in anything, really.”

I can see the way he’s looking at me and I swallow a thick lump in my throat. “Luke…”

“I’m sorry, Ellie,” he says in a low voice. “You do something to me. I can’t…” His eyes meet mine and suddenly he leans forward and presses his lips against mine. I remember the lustful, drunken kiss (my first) that he and I shared sixteen years ago, but this is so much better. I wouldn’t say Luke is out of practice or anything, but I can tell it’s been a long time for him by the way his hands shake a bit as he touches me and how his tongue explores my mouth eagerly, like a man who’s been in a desert for months and finally got a sweet taste of water.

On my part, I don’t push him away. I know I should, because of all the men I’ve ever met, Luke is the most wrong for me. He’s too rich, too high-class, and just… I don’t know,
wrong
. But for reasons I can’t entirely understand, I’m ridiculously attracted to him. I always have been. And now that he’s disabled and not perfect anymore, I’m somehow even more attracted to him.

He pulls away from me for breath. “Ellie,” he whispers in my ear. “Are you okay?”

I hesitate for a moment, then nod.

He smiles and shrugs off his jacket. In his plain white shirt, I can tell he still has fantastic shoulders. I reach out and touch his deltoids as he leans forward to kiss me again.  “Ellie,” he whispers again. “Your apartment?”

I shake my head. “Second floor, no elevator.”

“Shit,” he mutters. I see the frustration on his face. “Okay, so… here, I guess?”

No, I can’t. I can’t…

Except somehow the only thing I can’t do is say no to this man. And I don’t need to worry about my three-month rule because it’s becoming fairly obvious that no matter what else he’s going to do, he’s not physically capable of having sex with me in this car. So I nod and I kiss him, and I allow his lips to slide down the side of my neck as his hand slides under the hemline of my skirt. As his fingers caress my thigh, it occurs to me that while he hasn’t been out on a date in two years, I haven’t had sex in just as long. I haven’t had fingers exploring up my skirt in quite a long time and it leaves me breathless.

He pushes me down so that my head is stuck in an uncomfortable spot between the seat and the door. I’ve never fooled around in a car before, maybe because I didn’t date back in high school. Once you get out of high school, there’s usually a bed available. And honestly, I’m not sure I’ve ever been with a man who wanted me so urgently that he had to have me in a car. But Luke wants me that bad right now. He’s pushing my skirt up, kissing my belly just above my panties. His breath is hot and every time he kisses me, I feel a tingling in my clitoris. Thank God I wore somewhat sexy red bikini panties today, not some granny panties with holes in them. I must have had an inkling we’d end up like this.

He’s taunting me a bit, going lower and lower with his mouth, but really taking his time. I lace my fingers into his hair and squeeze my hands into fists as I moan with a combination of anticipation and pleasure. I know I must be hurting him, but he is completely focused on his task. He’s pulling my panties down with his teeth, lowering his head, and then….

There’s a tap on the window.

Oh shit.

I can hardly catch my breath, but when I look up, I see who just knocked on our window. It’s a cop.

Luke straightens up, also breathing hard. His face is very flushed and he’s grinning, despite the gravity of the situation. He fumbles for the button to open the window and then addresses the officer with a sheepish look on his face. “Uh, hi,” he says.

The officer frowns. He looks really pissed off. Oh God, am I going to get arrested for having sex in public? I’ll never live that down. I’ll have to move. “I saw what you were doing in there,” he says. “You know, this is a residential neighborhood.”