Authors: Heather Leigh
“Yes, well, like I said, I’m … I’m sorry to intrude but I’ve, uh, I’ve been waiting for Sydney to get here to uh … show her this.”
Ha! Leah can barely speak! It’s not just me that becomes stupid around Drew.
I start to feel
the familiar racing panic well up as she pushes the magazine toward me and hope it isn’t obvious on my face. I don’t want Drew to think I’m crazy by showing him my neuroses in their full glory, but what the hell is she doing?
“Leah!” I whine.
Fuck, there’d better not be anything about my parents in that thing. Hold it together, Syd.
“I know, I know. But you have to see this, it’s why we’re so busy today, and I thought it was time you knew something.” Leah spins the magazine around to face me. “Trust me, please.” She sneaks another sideways peek at Drew, tilts her head and frowns, then focuses back on me.
I observe Drew, who seems as bewildered as me, a blank look on his handsome face. He pulls his hat down again and shrugs.
What the heck is with that ugly hat?
I take a deep breath and force myself to look at the cover. I look, blink, and look again. “What? I don’t … What the …? I’m not sure I …”
damn
, Now I’m the one who can’t seem to form a coherent sentence. “What the hell, Leah! Adam?”
Sure enough, the gorgeous man in a beautifully cut custom Armani suit on the cover of GQ magazine is Adam. Adam from the coffee shop Adam. Adam of the helpful creative sounding board Adam. Cute British Flirty Adam. Adam. On. GQ.
What the fuck?
This revelation seems to interest Drew so he leans over and stares at the magazine cover. I
notice that he’s so close that I can smell him, masculine and inviting, as I try to control my racing thoughts. I also realize that my mouth is gaping open and shut like a fish, so I clench my teeth together.
Drew sticks out a long finger and points at the photo of Adam, “You know him?”
Is it just me or does he kind of sound pissed?
“Yes. No. Kind of. I don’t know. I don’t understand.” How can I explain what I don’t understand myself? “He comes in here a lot. We sit together when we’re here at the same time, maybe a dozen times over the last few months. I only know him from the Coffee Bar; I’ve never seen him outside of here. And I guess I never asked enough personal questions for me to know that he would appear on the cover of freaking GQ magazine!”
I look to Leah for help, but she just sits there, alternating between staring at me and giving odd looks to Drew. She’s not helping me at all!
Bitch!
“You had no idea that the man you have been chatting with for several months was Adam Reynolds? Grammy winning lead singer of
Sphere of Irony
, Adam Reynolds? That’s crazy? Everyone knows who he is,” says Drew with a look that says he thinks I’m full of shit.
“Look, Sydney doesn’t own a TV. She doesn’t read gossip rags, or follow celebrity bullshit, okay?” Leah’s voice gets a little heated as she spits out the word ‘celebri
ty’ and gestures wildly at Drew. “She doesn’t care about that crap, so trust me, no, she had no clue who he was.”
“Leah!”
Thanks for making Drew think I’m a shut-in or a lonely cat lady or something!
My face flames red as I turn to Drew. “I just don’t care for that whole scene, you know? I’m not interested in famous people’s lives, and everything on TV sucks so I just don’t bother with it.” I wave my hand in a way that I hope conveys that this isn’t a big deal, even though it is a big deal.
Huge, actually
.
Drew stares into my eyes and studies me. It’s as though he’s trying to see
straight through me and figure out if I’m being honest. Then, his mouth quirks up into a smile again as if he thinks this is funny. “Ok, I believe you. I’ve just never met anyone who wasn’t at least familiar with most famous faces, let alone held multiple conversations with one on a first name basis and still didn’t recognize them.”
He nods and averts his ga
ze, continuing to speak quietly. “I think it’s great. People do spend too much time obsessing over celebrities and in front of the TV. It’s nice to know that not everyone is like that.” He leans back in his chair and resumes casually drinking his coffee from under that decrepit hat.
Leah stares at Drew openmouthed again
before turning back to me. “I wanted to show you his interview, Syd.” She takes the magazine and flips open to a page that she has folded over. “Right here, see what Adam says?” She stabs a line in what is clearly an interview, so I shove her hand away and read it out loud …
GQ
: So you’ve been in New York City for the last 3 months recording your new solo album, do you have any favorite haunts in the city?
AR
: Well, I’ve been right busy, and the studio hours are really early, but Galaxy, a nightclub in SoHo is brilliant. And there’s a neat little café, the Village Coffee Bar, in the West Village that makes the best specialty croissants you’ve ever had.
GQ
: Who knew you were a croissant lover?
AR
: I know, (laughing, he smacks his abs with his hand) I can’t eat too many, it’s too painful to sweat off later in the gym. I’m hoping to make it back to New York soon, because a friend of mine is redesigning Verve, the nightclub at the Warren Hotel, I’ve seen some of her work and she’s quite the talent. I’m keen on checking it out.
GQ
: I’m sure the Warren will send you an invite to the opening.
AR
: Hopefully. (Crosses fingers and laughs)
“Shit.” I know I look as though I’m falling to pieces as I glance up at Leah. I’m freaking the fuck out.
I feel like throwing up onto my beautiful stiletto booties
.
“I know,
Syd. I know.” Leah looks back in sympathy. “But think of all the publicity the Warren is getting. If they didn’t already love you, they really love you now. This is why it’s so crowded in here today. And I know Adam just thought he was helping you and me out. He doesn’t know about you, Syd.”
I close the magazine in disgust and throw it onto the table. Rubbing my temples, I shut my eyes in frustration. I’m
losing it and don’t want to do it here. “I can’t talk about this now. Call me later?” I stand up and hug Leah.
She picks up the GQ, gives Drew yet another funn
y look, “Nice to meet you, Drew,” and goes back behind the coffee bar.
Drew jumps to
his feet, suddenly awake again. “
A
re you leaving?” He sounds a little frantic.
“Yes, I need to get out of here.
” I grab my coat and throw it on.
“I’m going with you, you’re upset. I can walk you home if you like.”
“Drew, you’re being very nice considering I just acted like a total psycho. Just because you saved me once doesn’t mean you have an obligation to walk me home.” Inside, I’m feeling butterflies deep in my belly that travel down lower. As stressed as I am, I don’t want to say goodbye to Drew again.
He puts a
gentle hand on my arm and it tingles with electricity from his touch. “First of all, you’re not a psycho, well, maybe a little for sitting with a strange, pseudo-repellant man who gives really good first aid and rides home to bleeding women. Second, I know I’m not obligated to walk you home, but I don’t think you should be alone when you’re upset. Plus, I just like talking to you and was hoping we could talk more.”
He shocks me with his honesty. I study his face and he has
that same look as the other day, a sincere, sweet look that I can’t bring myself to say no to. And I
like
talking to him. I feel different with him, safe.
I nod and head for the door. Drew pulls down that ratty Red Sox hat again and places his hand on my lower back to guide me out. Heat flows through my body when
he touches me so possessively. Even through my coat, his warmth causes my heart to speed up a little and I feel moisture building between my legs again. Between the anxiety and the racing hormones, I’m so confused. I have absolutely no idea what to do next.
We walk out of the café and onto the packed New York sidewalk. I stand there
like an idiot, not sure what to say or where to go. Thank God Drew speaks first. “So which way is your place? I’ll walk you home and we can talk if you want.” Drew looks so hopeful that I manage a smile.
“Okay. That sounds great.” I tell him where I live. He nods and once again he puts his hand on my lower back, my nipples
tighten from his touch. I shiver in pleasure, glad it’s too cold for Drew to notice. He affects me way too much.
“So, how long have you lived in Manhattan, Sydney?”
Great, here go the personal questions that I hate so much
.
But, this is an easy one.
I’m sure I can answer a few general questions without going all nuclear crazy on him. “Twelve years, you?”
What the hell am I doing?
Asking him questions is a sure way to get him to expect me to answer more of his. I mentally slap myself in the forehead for my stupidity.
“I’ve been here for ten years. Funny how the island is only thirty-three square miles but we can both live here for a decade and never meet
and then run into each other twice in a week.” He glances over at me from under that God-awful hat and grins. His dimple makes that place between my thighs flutter again.
Jesus, I’m going to combust.
“That’s what I love about New York. You can be invisible if you want to.”
God! Again!
Me and my big fat mouth!
What is it about this guy that is making me spill my guts to him?
Drew
grasps my arm lightly and stops me to face him. His green eyes darken as he speaks. “Sydney, you could never be invisible.” He lets go of my arm and keeps walking, leaving me open-mouthed and running to catch up to him.
Okay, this is beyond just talking. I flat out want to jump on this guy the second we get to my loft. I haven’t felt this way in a long time, but it feels wrong to just use him for sex
and kick him out like I’m used to doing.
What the hell do normal people do?
I realize that I’m so fucked up I haven’t got a clue as to what normal people do after meeting.
I still haven’t figured out what to do when we walk up to my building. Richard greets us warmly
. “Miss Allen, welcome home.” I stand there not knowing anything except that I don’t want to part with Drew just yet. Especially since I regretted not getting to know him better the first time we met.
“
Ummm, do you want to come in and continue talking? I mean, well …”
Ugh
! I sound so stupid!
I must not have sounded as
dumb as I feel, because Drew flashes me that sexy dimple and accepts my invitation. We enter the building and take the elevator up to my floor.
“This place is great.” Drew enters my loft an
d checks it out.
“Thanks. Let me take your coat and,
uhhhh, hat.” I wrinkle my nose a little as I ask for it.
Please let him take off that revolting hat
. He doesn’t hesitate at all to hand me his coat, but he takes off the hat and tosses it onto my coffee table.
“That’s pretty old and sweaty.
I wouldn’t want you to have to touch it.”
Thank God!
His eyes sparkle with mischief as he runs his hands through his deep brown hair in an attempt to fix it. So he has his suspicions that I hate his hat.
But I mean, come on! Who in their right mind would like that thing?
I put his coat next to mine in the closet by the door and walk toward the kitchen. “Would you like a drink? I know it’s not even five o’clock, but I have no shame in indulging in a beer this early.”
“A beer w
ould be great, thanks, Sydney.”
My heart speeds up and I lick my lips. Hearing my name caressed by his deep voice does things to me.
Whew!
I need to calm down.
Eager to say goodbye to this anxiety
and my racing pulse, I pull out a shot glass and my trusty bottle of Patrón and throw one back, putting the glass in the dishwasher and the Patrón back in the cabinet. The welcome fire burns its way down my throat and settles in my belly. I head over to the fridge and remove two bottles of Sam Adams, pop the tops off, and gather my courage to head into the living room.
I enter the room to find Drew peering at some of the photos I have on the mantle above my fireplace. He turns to me as I h
and him his beer. “You’ve been to a lot of places.” He motions with his beer bottle at the pictures of me posing in front of various European landmarks.
Of course he picks out the few personal items in the entire loft to ask me about.
Thank God I learned a long time ago not to put any pictures of my mom on display where visitors could see them. They would recognize her right away and the super-fan
“I love celebrity can you introduce me to your mom”
attitude would kill any conversation I tried to have after that.