Imaginary Lines

Page 28

  I yanked three on and off before settling on a gray thing that made the most of my bust and the least of my hips. Then I was back to the kitchen, which looked decently tidy, and to the bathroom, which would pass a guy’s inspection, though not my mother’s.

  The door buzzed, and I swallowed a squeal and buzzed him up.

  I should probably have put on some concealer on that spot on my temple, but too late now.

  Breathless, I opened the door and found Abe grinning down at me. His dark eyes sparkled good-naturedly and my heart flopped over. He hefted two plastic bags stuffed with green leaves. “I come bearing kale. ”

  I took one bag out of reflex and my hands brushed against his. Warmth shot through my body and a smile tugged at my lips. “Thanks. ”

  Were we doing this? Was he really bringing food to my apartment after we had made out in the street a week ago, like this was normal and ordinary and this was something we could do? Was it something we could do?

  Would I ever get over how beautiful he was? How beloved I found each line of his face and body?

  His smile broadened, not without a touch of satisfaction. “Are we going to stand here staring at each other all afternoon?”

  I shot him a bright smile. “It’s not my fault if you’re stunned into submission by my beauty. ” The words floated out of me daringly, flirtatiously, leaving me slightly astonished, but more pleased.

  Abe’s eyes crinkled at the corners. “Oh, is that what was going on?”

  “I can hardly think of another reason,” I said archly.

  For another moment, his gaze remained of me, laughing, happy, and then he looked past into the narrowed apartment. “You got an oven? I figured we could make some chips. ”

  I licked my lips, though not from hunger. Abe and I grew up on kale chips. I’d heard people say it was an acquired taste, but given that our mothers served them up while we were young, I considered it acquired. “Kitchen’s right up the hall. ” I stepped back and let him inside. His broad shoulders filled up the hallway. “Sorry, it’s not really a linebacker-sized apartment. ”

  He trailed his fingers along my ceiling as though to agree. “You should see my apartment. It is. ”

  Even my shoulder blades were tingling now, and I didn’t even know shoulder blades could tingle. I kept my giggles suppressed and followed him into the square kitchen and filled glasses of water for both of us. “Should I?”

  He just raised his brows.

  I pre-heated the oven and dug out olive oil and salt, handing Abe the greens to wash and dry. “I watched your game. ”

  “You should have watched it from the Sun Life Stadium. ”

  My lips twitched. God, he was confident. “Don’t you think you should be glad I watched it at all? What would you do if I just stopped watching altogether?”

  He looked smug. “You can’t. It’s your job. ”

  I just shook my head at him. “So what brought you out of Manhattan?”

  “Standing breakfast date with one of my grandma’s friends. Her husband passed away four years ago, so she gets a little lonely. She’s the one who gave me all of this. ”

  I handed Abe a colander that he placed in the sink as he sprinkled salt and oil over the leaves, and then searched the cabinets for a suitable tray. “She lives here, in Astoria?”

  “Uh-huh. ”

  “For how long?”

  “Think she grew up here. ”

  I placed a wide, only slightly burnt tin on the counter and watched as Abe spread out the kale evenly. “My grandparents lived here in the forties. That’s when they moved here. ”

  He turned away from the dish and studied me. “Have you ever seen where they lived?”

  The oven wasn’t quite hot enough, but I stuck the tray in anyway. It was too hot in here; I’d rather be moving. “No, though I’d like to. Let’s go into the living room while it bakes. ”

  But once we reached the living room I realized we weren’t alone. Sometime in the last fifteen minutes all three of my roommates had trickled out of their rooms and now sat quietly on the couch and chairs, playing at the laptops and reading, a hereunto unheard of occurrence. They all looked up as Abe and I walked in.

  “Uh, hey, guys. ” There went hanging out in the living room. “This is my friend Abe. ”

  Abe did that chin nod guys do. “Hey. ”

  My trio of roommates chorused a greeting back at him as I shot a look at my door. Well. It wasn’t like we’d never been in each other’s rooms before.

  “This is my room,” I said, and we both stepped in. I felt incredible gratitude that I hadn’t left a heap of clothing on the floor and that no drying bras hung from the lamp. I wasn’t sure I’d go so far as calling the room clean, what with the haphazard stacks of books and papers on my desk and the edge of the room, and the number of scarves jockeying for space on the door hooks, but at least it was tidy-ish.

  Abe’s face brightened when it landed on the stuffed elephant sitting atop my wardrobe. “You still have Ellie?”

  I mock-scowled at him. Abe had teased me relentlessly about Ellie when he found out that at age thirteen I still slept with a stuffed animal. While it had been good-natured rather than malicious, it’d still embarrassed me. Now, I swept up the soft gray plush toy and squished her to my chest. “Of course I do. ”

  He reached out a hand, and with narrowed eyes I handed Ellie over. He stroked her tiny face and pulled gently on her trunk. “She’s kind of cute. ”

  “She’s kind of adorable,” I corrected.

  He laughed and flew her through the air and back to her home. Then he turned and dropped onto my bed, lounging as though prepared to spend the rest of the afternoon there.

  I licked my lips, heart thudding nervously. Should I bring up the kiss? Had it been a onetime thing? “Abe. . . ”

  He looked up inquisitively, but I couldn’t finish the sentence. He seemed to understand, and picked up a framed photo of my parents and me. “Tell me about what it’s like working at Sports Today. ”

  I took a cross-legged seat on the edge of my cheap IKEA foam chair and faced him. “What about it?”

  He smiled slightly at the photo. “Do you talk about me?”

  I shot him a glance. “You wish. ”

  He grinned and put the photo down. “You do. ”

  I wrinkled my nose in amusement. “Look at you, you vainglorious peacock. We talk about the team. Which, may I remind you, you’re only one-fifty-third of. ”

  “The most important fifty-third. And I don’t think my spirit animal’s a peacock, thank you. ”

  I smiled slightly. I’d gone to the Tampa Zoo last time I visited my grandparents in Florida, and while there I’d seen a snow leopard. It lay on a wooden platform in its leafy habitat, head lolling to the side. I couldn’t look away. Its fuzzy tail, much longer and rounder than I’d expected, hung down perfectly still through the air.

  Eventually, it had raised its head in one quick, alert movement. Its small triangle head had rested against its soft-looking, deadly paws, and its dark eyes started through the bars at me, ears twitching.

  There was something mesmerizing about big cats. They looked so familiar—especially snow leopards, with faces like anyone’s beloved pet. It was easy to imagine that they were your friend, a giant kitty that would understand you if you wanted it hard enough.