I've decided I'm going to keep with this one for a while and let Madison Avenue air out, because people seem to be responding to this one more positively.
This chapter will be fairly short and mostly for the sake of exposition. Chapter 3 will come quickly, though, and it will be a very important, interesting one.
OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO
Ross hummed along to the jazz music as he walked the few blocks back to his apartment. The smile still hadn't subsided from his face and his thoughts felt so lucid and serene, like all the tension he'd been feeling earlier had just shed itself from his body. There was an extra bounce in his step that he couldn't explain or control, but he had never felt so awake or grateful. He wasn't even sure what he felt so grateful FOR, but he wasn't questioning it.
He couldn't take his mind off of her.
Rachel. The name fit her, in some inextricable way, and it made his heart skip a beat each time he muttered it beneath his breath. Just saying it or thinking of her face made him slightly dizzy. No girl-- not even Carol-- had ever left him this giddy. As soon as he'd seen her, he'd known there was something special about her. She was so unlike any other girl he'd ever met-- so calm and unaware of herself. So adorable and sexy, but obviously so reluctant to accept it. This unexplainable feeling of protectiveness had shot through his entire body the first time their eyes had locked-- like he was already responsible for taking care of her, in some way. He didn't know what this was, but it was enveloping his whole being, and it was a higher high than any alcohol or drug he'd ever experienced had provided.
He unlocked the door to his flat and slipped inside without turning on the light. He proceeded up the few stairs to the living room landing and back to his room, dropping the bag of clean clothes by his bed before collapsing his weight down onto the springy mattress. He was literally drunk with whatever this emotion was. He could feel it absorbing itself into his skin-- his organs and blood-- and intoxicating him. His head spun as images of her flooded his mind. He was glad Carver wasn't home. He wouldn't have been able to take the unavoidable, incessant questioning that would have undoubtedly taken place. That would have made him accountable for having to describe exactly what it was about this girl that had him so wound up, and that would was impossible to do.
He stripped down to his boxers and turned on the shower, padding out to the living room while he waited for the water to get hot. Carefully, he opened the previously abandoned laptop sitting on the coffee table and clicked on the 'mail' icon. After reading over Carol's message again, he initially hesitated
...then pressed delete.
Taking a deep breath, he smiled to himself and nodded. It was time to move on. No more avoiding possible pitfalls. No more running and hiding from potential rejection or heartbreak. No more 'playing it safe' at the expensive of living his life. He was determined to turn over a new leaf, now. He was in his mid 20's-- the prime of life-- and he wasn't going to miss it. The rut was over.
He shut the laptop and retreated back through his room into his bathroom, removing his boxers and sliding into the shower. As the water fell around him and a palpable steam filled the air, he closed his eyes and imagined what it would be like to touch this girl. What were the most intimate things about her? What did her skin feel like? Did she like controlling men or subservient ones? Did she fidget when she was nervous? What did she smell like in the morning after sex? He found himself yearning to know all of these things, and he didn't even know what the "K" in her middle name stood for, yet.
He dried himself off, selected a clean pair of boxers and was asleep before his head hit the pillow. His last thoughts were of the way her hair had fallen in front of her eyes when she'd giggled.
OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO
Rachel was surprised when she flicked on the light to find Erica asleep on the sofa. She walked over and tapped her shoulder.
"Hey, what are you doing here?"
"Huh?" Erica asked, lifting her head in an obvious haze. Rachel rolled her eyes and walked over to the kitchen sink to get some water for her drunk roommate.
"Jesus, Erica, it's only like 9. Why are you home and why are you already drunk?" She handed her the glass and sat beside her on the couch.
"Well," she began, setting the water down on the table, "I think it's safe to say that I've dated all the worthwhile guys in Manhattan."
"What happened?"
"The asshole got me drunk and when I wouldn't have sex with him, he just dropped me back off here."
"Oh my God!" Rachel exclaimed, sounding appalled. "You wouldn't have sex with him?"
"Funny, funny," Erica stated sardonically, throwing a pillow at Rachel. "Anyway, here I am. What happened to you tonight?"
"What do you mean?" Rachel asked defensively, getting up to put the glass away and to pick up her laundry bag. "I did my laundry. No biggie."
"You totally met a guy," Erica predicted, smiling widely. "You met, like, the hottest, dreamiest guy ever and you're holding out on me. Bitch," she lovingly teased.
"Oh my God, HOW do you do that?" Rachel asked, joining her again on the couch. She folded her legs up underneath her in the classic "girl chat" position and smiled the widest, toothiest smile of her life. She'd been concealing it ever since shed' walked in, but she just couldn't do it anymore.
"Okay, so spill," Erica demanded. "Did you guys, like, do it against the back row of machines?" she asked, sticking her pierced tongue out and grinning.
"No!" Rachel insisted, blushing a bit. "It..." she searched for the right words, looking down at her lap. "It wasn't like that."
"Rachel, you're such a nerd!" Erica insisted, rolling her eyes. "I mean, I love you, but if you don't get rid of all these ideas about 'romance' and just fuck a guy every now and then, you're going to lose your mind."
"As much as I appreciate that beautiful advice," Rachel quipped, "I think I can handle this on my own."
"Fine," she surrendered. "Tell me about him, then."
"He's..." Rachel was already smiling. She shook her head, unable to believe how devastatingly handsome and intriguing this man was. "God, he's just like the most adorable, beautiful guy I've ever seen!" she screeched, giving up any sense of objectivity she might have had left to complete girlishness.
"Really? Does he have a brother?"
"I don't think he's your type," Rachel insisted, shaking her head.
"Why not?" Erica asked in mock offense, placing a hand on her chest. "Who says I even HAVE a type?"
"Well, let's see. I talked to him for over 2 minutes and he didn't stare at my breasts or try to pick me up..." she trailed off.
"Prude," Erica teased.
"But Erica, he just makes me so...ugh, I DON'T KNOW!" she admitted, restlessly bounding from the couch. "I couldn't take my eyes off of him! He's got this voice...and these hands...and his EYES! God, Erica, his eyes floored me!"
"Alright, Camper, take it easy!" Erica teasingly laughed.
"Those few minutes with him were more exciting than any relationship I've ever had," Rachel admitted, calming down a bit.
"Well, that's not saying much," Erica joked, slowly getting up from the couch.
"Erica," Rachel stated flatly, grabbing her roommate's hand and looking at her seriously. "What am I doing?"
"You're not 'doing' anything, Sweety," she assured her, understanding that her friend had problems in his area. "You met a guy-- from the sound of it, an amazing guy-- and you're into him. There's nothing wrong with that, babe," she eased. Rachel nodded and smiled, thanking her silently for her help.
"I know...God, you're right. I'm so messed up," Rachel whined, putting her face to her hands.
"Hey, you're not messed up. You just don't like taking chances. Considering that you almost married Barry, that's not surprising," Erica joked, earning a smile and a small nod from Rachel. "If you don't mind taking advice from a lunatic like me, though? Don't lose this one. He sounds like something special." Rachel nodded and hugged her friend.
"Thanks. I'm think I'm going to go to bed."
"Bed!? It's 9:30! God, I sure hope this guy can convince you to move your bedtime past that of an 8-year-old!"
"He was doing his laundry on a Friday night, too," Rachel reminded her, right before she headed up the flight of stairs to her bedroom.
"Lord, save us all," Erica mumbled under her breath.
OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO
Rachel closed the door to her room without turning on the light. She disrobed immediately and rummaged around her dresser in the dark for a t-shirt and pair of boxers. She didn't bother hopping into the shower before crawling into bed and pulling the blankets up around her. She laid on her side and stared out of the high-rise window. Rain trickled down the glass, collecting and magnifying light from the city below. She considered how big New York was and how small she and her life were, in comparing.
She turned over and closed her eyes, clearing her mind of everything but a single image: him. She still didn't even have any idea of what his name was. He looked familiar, but in an impossibly detached way, like she'd only briefly known him through the distorted haze of a dream of fairy tale. The connection she felt to him scared her, though. The fire he'd lit within her and the sirens that had seemingly gone off in her head at the sound of his voice were frighteningly intense. He made her feel so...alive. If she were being honest with herself, se hadn't felt that way in quite some time. Maybe a year. Maybe more.
This boy had serious potential to unravel her-- unthread her at the seams. Just the shifting of his muscles when he'd walked and the poise of his stature when he stood had staggered her. As badly as she wanted to dismiss it as a crush-- a desperate, contrived attempts at some distraction-- she knew it was more. He meant more. She fell asleep with a smile across her face.
OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO
End Chapter 2. Continued in Chapter 3.
This chapter will be fairly short and mostly for the sake of exposition. Chapter 3 will come quickly, though, and it will be a very important, interesting one.
OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO
Ross hummed along to the jazz music as he walked the few blocks back to his apartment. The smile still hadn't subsided from his face and his thoughts felt so lucid and serene, like all the tension he'd been feeling earlier had just shed itself from his body. There was an extra bounce in his step that he couldn't explain or control, but he had never felt so awake or grateful. He wasn't even sure what he felt so grateful FOR, but he wasn't questioning it.
He couldn't take his mind off of her.
Rachel. The name fit her, in some inextricable way, and it made his heart skip a beat each time he muttered it beneath his breath. Just saying it or thinking of her face made him slightly dizzy. No girl-- not even Carol-- had ever left him this giddy. As soon as he'd seen her, he'd known there was something special about her. She was so unlike any other girl he'd ever met-- so calm and unaware of herself. So adorable and sexy, but obviously so reluctant to accept it. This unexplainable feeling of protectiveness had shot through his entire body the first time their eyes had locked-- like he was already responsible for taking care of her, in some way. He didn't know what this was, but it was enveloping his whole being, and it was a higher high than any alcohol or drug he'd ever experienced had provided.
He unlocked the door to his flat and slipped inside without turning on the light. He proceeded up the few stairs to the living room landing and back to his room, dropping the bag of clean clothes by his bed before collapsing his weight down onto the springy mattress. He was literally drunk with whatever this emotion was. He could feel it absorbing itself into his skin-- his organs and blood-- and intoxicating him. His head spun as images of her flooded his mind. He was glad Carver wasn't home. He wouldn't have been able to take the unavoidable, incessant questioning that would have undoubtedly taken place. That would have made him accountable for having to describe exactly what it was about this girl that had him so wound up, and that would was impossible to do.
He stripped down to his boxers and turned on the shower, padding out to the living room while he waited for the water to get hot. Carefully, he opened the previously abandoned laptop sitting on the coffee table and clicked on the 'mail' icon. After reading over Carol's message again, he initially hesitated
...then pressed delete.
Taking a deep breath, he smiled to himself and nodded. It was time to move on. No more avoiding possible pitfalls. No more running and hiding from potential rejection or heartbreak. No more 'playing it safe' at the expensive of living his life. He was determined to turn over a new leaf, now. He was in his mid 20's-- the prime of life-- and he wasn't going to miss it. The rut was over.
He shut the laptop and retreated back through his room into his bathroom, removing his boxers and sliding into the shower. As the water fell around him and a palpable steam filled the air, he closed his eyes and imagined what it would be like to touch this girl. What were the most intimate things about her? What did her skin feel like? Did she like controlling men or subservient ones? Did she fidget when she was nervous? What did she smell like in the morning after sex? He found himself yearning to know all of these things, and he didn't even know what the "K" in her middle name stood for, yet.
He dried himself off, selected a clean pair of boxers and was asleep before his head hit the pillow. His last thoughts were of the way her hair had fallen in front of her eyes when she'd giggled.
OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO
Rachel was surprised when she flicked on the light to find Erica asleep on the sofa. She walked over and tapped her shoulder.
"Hey, what are you doing here?"
"Huh?" Erica asked, lifting her head in an obvious haze. Rachel rolled her eyes and walked over to the kitchen sink to get some water for her drunk roommate.
"Jesus, Erica, it's only like 9. Why are you home and why are you already drunk?" She handed her the glass and sat beside her on the couch.
"Well," she began, setting the water down on the table, "I think it's safe to say that I've dated all the worthwhile guys in Manhattan."
"What happened?"
"The asshole got me drunk and when I wouldn't have sex with him, he just dropped me back off here."
"Oh my God!" Rachel exclaimed, sounding appalled. "You wouldn't have sex with him?"
"Funny, funny," Erica stated sardonically, throwing a pillow at Rachel. "Anyway, here I am. What happened to you tonight?"
"What do you mean?" Rachel asked defensively, getting up to put the glass away and to pick up her laundry bag. "I did my laundry. No biggie."
"You totally met a guy," Erica predicted, smiling widely. "You met, like, the hottest, dreamiest guy ever and you're holding out on me. Bitch," she lovingly teased.
"Oh my God, HOW do you do that?" Rachel asked, joining her again on the couch. She folded her legs up underneath her in the classic "girl chat" position and smiled the widest, toothiest smile of her life. She'd been concealing it ever since shed' walked in, but she just couldn't do it anymore.
"Okay, so spill," Erica demanded. "Did you guys, like, do it against the back row of machines?" she asked, sticking her pierced tongue out and grinning.
"No!" Rachel insisted, blushing a bit. "It..." she searched for the right words, looking down at her lap. "It wasn't like that."
"Rachel, you're such a nerd!" Erica insisted, rolling her eyes. "I mean, I love you, but if you don't get rid of all these ideas about 'romance' and just fuck a guy every now and then, you're going to lose your mind."
"As much as I appreciate that beautiful advice," Rachel quipped, "I think I can handle this on my own."
"Fine," she surrendered. "Tell me about him, then."
"He's..." Rachel was already smiling. She shook her head, unable to believe how devastatingly handsome and intriguing this man was. "God, he's just like the most adorable, beautiful guy I've ever seen!" she screeched, giving up any sense of objectivity she might have had left to complete girlishness.
"Really? Does he have a brother?"
"I don't think he's your type," Rachel insisted, shaking her head.
"Why not?" Erica asked in mock offense, placing a hand on her chest. "Who says I even HAVE a type?"
"Well, let's see. I talked to him for over 2 minutes and he didn't stare at my breasts or try to pick me up..." she trailed off.
"Prude," Erica teased.
"But Erica, he just makes me so...ugh, I DON'T KNOW!" she admitted, restlessly bounding from the couch. "I couldn't take my eyes off of him! He's got this voice...and these hands...and his EYES! God, Erica, his eyes floored me!"
"Alright, Camper, take it easy!" Erica teasingly laughed.
"Those few minutes with him were more exciting than any relationship I've ever had," Rachel admitted, calming down a bit.
"Well, that's not saying much," Erica joked, slowly getting up from the couch.
"Erica," Rachel stated flatly, grabbing her roommate's hand and looking at her seriously. "What am I doing?"
"You're not 'doing' anything, Sweety," she assured her, understanding that her friend had problems in his area. "You met a guy-- from the sound of it, an amazing guy-- and you're into him. There's nothing wrong with that, babe," she eased. Rachel nodded and smiled, thanking her silently for her help.
"I know...God, you're right. I'm so messed up," Rachel whined, putting her face to her hands.
"Hey, you're not messed up. You just don't like taking chances. Considering that you almost married Barry, that's not surprising," Erica joked, earning a smile and a small nod from Rachel. "If you don't mind taking advice from a lunatic like me, though? Don't lose this one. He sounds like something special." Rachel nodded and hugged her friend.
"Thanks. I'm think I'm going to go to bed."
"Bed!? It's 9:30! God, I sure hope this guy can convince you to move your bedtime past that of an 8-year-old!"
"He was doing his laundry on a Friday night, too," Rachel reminded her, right before she headed up the flight of stairs to her bedroom.
"Lord, save us all," Erica mumbled under her breath.
OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO
Rachel closed the door to her room without turning on the light. She disrobed immediately and rummaged around her dresser in the dark for a t-shirt and pair of boxers. She didn't bother hopping into the shower before crawling into bed and pulling the blankets up around her. She laid on her side and stared out of the high-rise window. Rain trickled down the glass, collecting and magnifying light from the city below. She considered how big New York was and how small she and her life were, in comparing.
She turned over and closed her eyes, clearing her mind of everything but a single image: him. She still didn't even have any idea of what his name was. He looked familiar, but in an impossibly detached way, like she'd only briefly known him through the distorted haze of a dream of fairy tale. The connection she felt to him scared her, though. The fire he'd lit within her and the sirens that had seemingly gone off in her head at the sound of his voice were frighteningly intense. He made her feel so...alive. If she were being honest with herself, se hadn't felt that way in quite some time. Maybe a year. Maybe more.
This boy had serious potential to unravel her-- unthread her at the seams. Just the shifting of his muscles when he'd walked and the poise of his stature when he stood had staggered her. As badly as she wanted to dismiss it as a crush-- a desperate, contrived attempts at some distraction-- she knew it was more. He meant more. She fell asleep with a smile across her face.
OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO
End Chapter 2. Continued in Chapter 3.