Crossing in front of the car, I forced myself not to look inside at him. Whatever this had been, it was over, and I needed to get over it. I felt his stare on my back as I stepped onto the sidewalk, but I told myself to not turn around.
Then from behind me I heard the car window lower and he said my name. Turning around, I was struck by how lonely he looked in that car all by himself. I waved and smiled, and he said quietly, "Nina, be careful getting in cars with strange men. You could get hurt, and I wouldn't want anything bad to happen to you."
He drove off, leaving me more confused than before. Frustrated and baffled by my time with Tristan Stone, I hurried into my building.
Chapter Two
Sundays were always the best day of the week, as far as I was concerned. My father had never been a very religious man after my mother died, so my sister and I had never done the Sunday church thing. For us, the last day of the weekend meant sleeping in and then a late breakfast of pancakes and waffles smothered in butter and maple syrup and lovingly made by my father.
I'd continued this tradition as often as possible, even while I was in college, and now that I was out on my own, I loved Sundays even more. Granted, there were no pancakes or waffles usually, but there was sleeping in.
Beautiful, luxurious sleeping in.
Jordan thankfully shared my love of Sunday mornings, so our apartment was like a tomb often until early afternoon. The former best friend of my college roommate, she had been the opposite of Alyssa, who acted like weekends were her own personal version of boot camp. Jordan had joined with me to refuse to rise and shine at the crack of dawn one snowy February Sunday in freshman year, and we'd been friends ever since. We liked to say that it had been in our rebellion against the dawn and Alyssa that we'd become friends.
She hadn't been home when I returned from my bizarre time with Tristan, so I was eager to tell her about it all and get her opinion. But even crazy guy stories didn't warrant waking up before noon on a Sunday.
I rolled over and saw on my alarm clock that it was just about that time, so it was fair game to head down the hall and hope she was awake. Dressed in my usual shorts and a t-shirt I liked to sleep in, I padded barefoot toward her room only to find it empty. She had been getting more serious with Justin lately, so I assumed she'd spent the night at his place. Disappointed, I shuffled back to my room and flopped down on my bed once again.
The discussion of Tristan Stone and his sexiness would have to wait.
That didn't mean he was leaving my mind anytime soon. Even if we hadn't spent any time together, he'd still be rambling around the corners of my brain. I was infatuated, so the memory of his gorgeous face would stick with me for a while.
Clicking on the television, I stared at the show on the screen while I daydreamed about the events of the previous night. Why had he come to find me if all he wanted was someone to drive upstate with? He had many friends, I imagined, so why seek out a stranger who was so unlike him?
Just admitting to myself that I wasn't of his social level made me wince. I hadn't grown up around money, but my father had always made sure my sister and I were taken care of, so money was never a real issue. We weren't wealthy, but we weren't poor. The idea that someone's income would make them better than someone else was foreign to me, but in my time living in New York, it had become very clear that my feelings on money weren't everyone's.
Tristan Stone was very wealthy and far above my place in the world, even if I still counted myself as the middle class person I'd always been before living on my own. This made his actions the night before even less understandable.
I scrubbed my hands over my face in frustration. I wanted him to like me as much as I liked him. I wanted him to be lying in bed thinking of me. Even better would be him lying in bed alone thinking of me. But just thinking of me would be nice.
Who was I kidding? He was likely in bed with the brunette or the group of women he'd attended the show with. A stab of jealousy pinched at me as I imagined what he looked like out of that grey suit and naked in bed...with other women.
Get over it, Nina. It was some kind of game he was playing and it's over.
I silently repeated that a few times trying to convince myself to forget him and the time we'd spent together. I knew I should.
I just couldn't.
He filled my mind, and I loved it. Inhaling deeply, I still could smell his cologne, either as a wonderful memory or because of some fragment remaining inside my olfactory system. Masculine and powerful, it would forever remind me of him. I closed my eyes to imagine his face. The deep brown eyes that spoke volumes even when he didn't. The perfectly shaped mouth and the lips that had lightly brushed my cheek for just a moment, sending my body into overdrive. The masculine jaw of a man who looked like a man, not a boy.
What did he look like when he was just lying around on an early Sunday afternoon? Did he wear boxers or boxer briefs? Or did he sleep naked? I wanted to know what he looked like under his clothes. He had stood at least half a foot taller than I, probably more if I wasn't in those ridiculous three-inch heels Sheila made me wear to shows. He had appeared imposing, but I couldn't say if he was a big man or lean.
All I knew is that I wanted to know.
I let my mind drift back to the house he'd shown me. I fantasized about how he'd look standing in the doorway of one of its enormous rooms dressed in a suit much like the one he'd worn on our ride. In my mind's eye, he looked perfect. He wore a midnight blue shirt and matching tie that he fussed with. I saw myself there with him, straightening that tie as I stood in front of him admiring how truly stunning he was.
The sound of the front door slamming yanked me out of my daydream, and I heard Jordan yell, "Nina! Even I don't think you should be sleeping this late on this gorgeous day!"
Before I could get out of bed, she was standing in my doorway, all smiles. "Good morning, sleepyhead. What are you still doing in bed?"
Her happiness was catching, and I smiled. "Just hanging out. Where were you? Justin's?"
Her smile grew even bigger. "Yes. He and I have moved to me staying over, so you get to have the apartment all to yourself on nights like last night. Tell me you took advantage of that and didn't just come home after slaving away for Shitty Sheila and her crappy art show."
I didn't say anything, but my cheeks grew hot and my blush signaled that I had something to tell her. "Well, there was something. It's probably nothing, but..."
Jordan squealed. "Ooooh! I'm going to get a drink and you need to meet me in the living room to tell me everything. Get up and start talking!"
I loved that she was willing to listen to my silly ramblings about what would likely amount to nothing. Some friends only wanted someone to listen to them but weren't there for you when you had some juicy details, or in this case, wishful juicy details. But that wasn't Jordan.