I closed the door behind me when I went, and it felt like there were bubbles in my chest and a champagne sweetness. My face was warm, and it had nothing to do with the drinks we had had or the heat that seeped into the apartment through the cracks, giving the whole building a kind of damp sogginess that made the walls swelter in the summer.
Oh I like him, I thought, a little giddy.
I passed by my aunt’s study on my way to my own bedroom. Her light was still on; she had taken on the restless habit of sleeping away the heat of the day. I poked my head in to say goodnight, but ever unsentimental, she only shook hers.
“I hope you know what you are doing,” she said mildly.
“Of course I do,” I said with confidence.
I slept a few hours in my own bed, dreaming of a train full of people whose faces had been rubbed away by an enormous gum eraser. I awoke just before eight to the sound of Aunt Justine finally going to bed. I thought about rolling over and going back to sleep, but then I remembered Nick all on his lonesome in the guest room.
Barefoot, I padded down the hall and opened the door to find him still asleep, and as silently as I knew how, I crept in to look at him. He slept on his belly, all pushed over to one side of the large bed with one arm hanging down so that his fingertips grazed the floor. There was something quaintly old-fashioned about him in my great-uncle’s striped cotton pajamas, and with a slight smile, I slipped between the sheets with him. I wanted to look at him more closely, perhaps to touch his face while it was so loose and relaxed, but his eyes opened before I could do so.
For a moment, there was a perfect blankness to him, like the first page in a school notebook. He had no idea who I was, where he was, or what I meant. Then his mouth smiled, and slowly the rest of him came along.
“Good morning,” Nick said quietly, reaching out to cover my hand with his where it lay on the pillow. “Am I so late that I might as well stay in bed?”
“I’m afraid not,” I said. “But you are early enough to run down the street for breakfast if you hurry.”
“And if I don’t hurry?”
In response, I propped myself up on one elbow and bent down to kiss him, my other hand tangled in his short hair. I kissed his eyelids, his cheeks, the edge of his jaw, and the corners of his mouth before swinging my legs over the edge of the bed.
“Well, Lara will probably do you up some toast and eggs when she does mine, but you do have to get dressed for that. My aunt does not tolerate slovenliness from men at her table.”
I started to stand up, but Nick had come up behind me, wrapping his arms around me from behind. I tensed for a moment, but he only wanted to nuzzle at the back of my neck.
“I think I made a good start in getting to know you yesterday. When can I continue the process?”
I was glad that I was facing away from him, because it wouldn’t do to let him see how very pleased I was over that.
“I’m playing a match in East Hills Friday afternoon,” I said. “You can come and cheer me on after work if you like.”
“I would. And would you like to come to my house after that? It wouldn’t be far from East Hills to West Egg.”
“I’ll be spending the night at the Tysons’ unfortunately. I rather promised Chrissy I would.”
“Ah. Can’t disappoint Chrissy. I’ll come and bring you a lemonade, how’s that?”
“Perfect. Now get a move on if you want that toast and eggs. You dawdled so long you’ll have to leave straightaway after.”
Aunt Justine once gave me some advice when I was newly come to New York. If I was going to be passing anything more than time in public with a man, I should always find out what happened when he heard no, whether it was from me, a taxi driver, a waiter, or his employer.