We stopped in front of a video of a bright white flower opening up at nighttime, staring at it. “Things aren’t always as they seem.”
“Why do I have a feeling there’s something you want to say to me, yet you never really say it?” She turned to cock her head.
Because there is.
Because I am.
Because if I’m the one who got away, how come you cannot even recognize me when I stand less than a foot away from you?
But I just smiled, handing her the second note. I’d written them in advance, which, it had to be said, was out of character for me. My main form of seduction thus far, in the rare times I went to any minimal lengths to pursue someone, was to buy them dinner. She smoothed it over in her palm, shooting me a frown.
Step 2: Introduce me to your favorite street food.
Her eyes met mine, full of sudden benevolence I doubted she was truly capable of. The princess with the Chanel purse and $500 haircut, who’d never known hunger and desperation in her life.
“Whatever happened to you and me not being able to date one another? This feels just a few kisses shy of spooning slash coadopting a French bulldog called Argus.”
“First of all, I would never adopt a dog. Quote me on that. If I wanted someone to ruin my apartment, I’d get your interior designer. No offense.”
“None taken. I could give a crap and a half about what you think about my apartment.”
Actually, it was more like half a crap, but obviously, I didn’t want to offend.
“Second, I am, above all, a gentleman. Third, the only thing remotely romantic about tonight is the fact we’re both going to get laid at the end of it.”
Arya shook her head, but at least she had the integrity not to contradict me. We both knew where this was headed. How tangled we were in this web of desire.
And then we were on the stairs of the New York Public Library, eating waffles filled with chocolate fudge, Nutella, and cookie spread.
We probably looked perfect. The image of a textbook urban date. Two dashing thirtysomethings sharing dessert at the feet of one of the finest establishments in America. A sugarcoated lie.
“How did you not die of a heart attack by now?” I asked after three bites. I hadn’t consumed anything remotely as artery clogging since I’d hit thirty and realized that in order to keep my current shape, I had to start watching what I ate.
Arya tapped her plastic fork over her lower lip, pretending to consider this. “Wishful thinking, Mr. Miller?”
“We can stop pretending we hate each other. All evidence points to the contrary.”
“Never really bought into the whole diet fads. When I want to eat something—I do.” She shrugged. “Maybe I’m reckless.”
I snorted a chuckle. “A reckless woman would’ve called me a minute after she found out her book was missing. When did you realize, by the way?”
“About half a second after I opened my eyes.” She licked her lips. “Give or take.”
“Why Atonement?” I asked again. “Out of all the books in the world, you chose this. Why not Austen? Or Hemingway? Woolf, or Fitzgerald, or even Steinbeck?”
“Guilt.” She pressed her lips together, squinting at the darkness in front of her. “Atonement is about guilt. A small act of thoughtlessness made by a child, and how it threw so many lives off the rails. I guess . . . I mean, I suppose . . .” She frowned again, two sharp lines forming between her eyebrows. “I don’t know. I guess the more I grew up, the more that book grew with me. Each time I read it, I’d find another layer I could relate to.”
“Does this have something to do with the one who got away?” I asked tentatively. I was treading too close to the truth. I no longer recognized myself around her.
Arya straightened her spine, jerked from a thought that shook her. “Why am I here, Christian?” She dropped her fork into her half-eaten waffle, turning to me. “You wanted to sleep with me, and you did. You left without a note, without a text, without a call—but with the one thing you expected would make me crawl back to you. What kind of game are you playing? You’re hot one moment, cold another. Tender, then moody. I don’t know if you are my enemy or my friend. You keep skating in and out between the territories. I cannot figure you out, and if I’m being completely honest, I’m reaching the point where the mystery outweighs the allure.”
I took her waffle and carried both our take-out dishes to a nearby trash can, where I disposed of them to buy time. When I returned, I sat next to her. Her fingers were wrapped around a take-out tea.