Elements of Retrofit (5 page)

“No jokes about the elderly?” I asked as we got to the elevator. “Yesterday you were full of cheek about my age.”

“Can you remember yesterday?” he asked, wide-eyed. “Your Alzheimer medication must really work.”

I pressed the button for the lobby. “You’re such a little shit.”

I thought I might offend him by calling him that. But by the way he grinned proudly, I doubted I could offend him if I tried.

The streets of New York on a Sunday were still busy, only people had dressed a little more casually than they did during the week. We started to walk and ended up near the park at a vendor. Cooper stared at me. “I might be a lowly intern, but I can afford more than a pretzel for lunch.”

I laughed at him. “I happen to like these.” So two pretzels later, we found a bench seat and started to eat our lunch.

Cooper was thoughtful as he ate, looking around. “I love this city,” he said.

“Me too,” I said, and smiled when I looked at him. “It has a hum, an energy, doesn’t it?”

He nodded. “Yeah, it does. But”—he shrugged—“you’ll probably think I’m crazy, but you wanna know what I love about New York?” He shook his head like he couldn’t believe he was about to admit something. “I love the skyscrapers. I love the glass and steel, I love the purpose this city has. I love how the new buildings integrate with the old ones. I love the history and the modern, I mean some of these buildings are works of art…”

I stared at him, and he stopped talking and blushed, ducking his head. “See? Told you you’d think I was crazy.”

I shook my head slowly. “I love that too,” I said quietly. “Everything you said, that’s what I love about it too.” I shook my head, a little perplexed that this man, this man half my age, understood me.

Cooper smiled and looked down at the half-eaten pretzel in his hand. “I’ve never told anyone that.”

I laughed nervously. “I’ve told people, but they’ve never really understood me.”

He looked at me then and neither one of us spoke. I just stared at him—wondering what on earth it was about him that intrigued me so much—and right there, in a city of millions with the noise of people and cars and buzzing past us, we sat in silence and had ourselves a moment.

He looked back down at his hands, with tinted cheeks, and exhaled as though looking at me had rendered him unable to breathe.

I liked that more than I should. “Come on,” I said, standing up. “I want to show you something.”

He stood up, threw the rest of his lunch in the bin and looked at me with keen eyes. “What is it?”

“This way,” I said, walking in a different direction than the way we’d come. Two blocks over, I pointed up. “See that?” It was a nondescript commercial building, dwarfed by the taller buildings beside it. Usually overlooked by passers-by, it wasn’t the biggest or the grandest, but it was a classic building that any decent architect would appreciate for its subtlety.

“The Crawson building?”

I nodded. “I did that.”

Cooper’s eyes widened. “Really? I mean, I’m not doubting you…it’s just…wow.”

I laughed. “Yes, really. Complete retrofit. Exterior façade to replicate the existing, even enhance the history of the building, but its interior is something else. You should see it. It’s classic art-deco design but completely sustainable.” I showed him the cubic forms, the strong sense of lines, the sleek curving forms and illusion of pillars.

When I finally stopped talking, I looked at Cooper to find he wasn’t even looking at the building. He was staring at me. “Can you show me?”

“Inside the building?”

He shook his head. “No, show me how you draw. I want to be able to do that.”

“Oh.”

“Will you show me? I want to learn, I want to see things how you see them.”

I looked at him again, and he stared straight back at me. His eyes never faltered, never strayed from mine. All I could do was nod. “Yes.”

He smiled magnificently. “No time like the present.”

We started to walk back to my apartment. “Are you sure you don’t have anywhere else you’d rather be?” I asked. “Working with me on a Sunday is hardly anyone’s idea of fun.”

“Well, I’m not anyone,” he said brightly. “I happen to enjoy it.”

“I’m glad you do,” I replied.

The rest of the walk back to my place was quiet, but as soon as we were inside, he pulled his chair next to mine at the table. “So where do we start?”

He had the basic, graphic art and technical drawing skills all architecture kids had. He admitted to that—he could draw a building easily enough. But he couldn’t draw it to life, he said. Not like me.

So for the next few hours, we sat side by side at my table with my grid pad and pencils. Sometimes our knees bumped, sometimes our thighs were completely touching, sometimes he’d rest his arm on the back of my chair, sometimes our hands would be so close they’d almost be touching.

And we talked, and we laughed, and we told stories and he smelt so good. But he listened, and he studied, and he copied and it was pretty obvious this kid had talent.

It was also pretty obvious there was something between us. I wasn’t imagining it. I’d catch him staring at me, or sometimes his breath would catch, and every now and then when our hands touched, it’d make my heart rate take off and my mouth would go dry.

Sometimes I’d catch myself staring at him. I was lost in his brown hair and hazel eyes and kissable, pink lips. When he was concentrating, or lost in thought at the drawing in front him, I’d have to
make
myself look away.

When he turned to ask me about something, our faces were so close, within leaning distance. His question was long forgotten, and his eyes darkened as he stared at me. He licked his lips and leaned in just a fraction.

He was going to kiss me. And I wanted to. I wanted to feel his lips, I wanted to taste him, touch him, and it was that want that made me panic.

I shot out of my seat and went into the kitchen, shaking my head of the Cooper-daze it was apparently in, and tried to calm my hammering heart.

I turned to find Cooper stand up slowly. “I should probably go,” he said quietly.

“Okay,” I said, out of breath.

His brow furrowed and he collected his laptop and stuffed it into his satchel. He exhaled through puffed-out cheeks and mumbled something about seeing himself out. Unable to do much else, I nodded, compliantly.

He walked out of my apartment and not three seconds later there was a knock on the door. Knowing who it would be, I looked through the peephole and nervously ran my hands through my hair before opening the door.

Cooper looked rattled, confused even, so I asked, “Everything okay?”

He stared at me for a long second then blurted out, “I think we should kiss.”

Chapter Six

“You what?”

“I think we should kiss,” he repeated, clearly flustered. “We should just do it, and get it out of the way. Then we can forget about it and get over it, move on, clear the air, whatever. But it’s just always there,” he said, almost pacing in my doorway. “It’s right there between us and it’s driving me mad. I can’t concentrate, all I can think about is what the fuck kissing you would feel like, or taste like.”

My heart was hammering and my stomach was in knots. He was standing right in front of me, telling me he wanted to kiss me.

“I’m not concerned about work,” he went on to say. “Because I’m sure, I’m
absolutely certain
that if I just kiss you once and get it out of my system, I’ll be fine. I’ll be back to normal and we can just act like nothing happened. I know you want to kiss me too,” he said, still ranting. “I can see it when you look at me. You stare at my mouth and you lick your lips, and it’s like you’re trying to not want to kiss me and I don’t blame you, because it’s weird, I get that. But I think if we just did it and got it out of the way, we could work together without all this wondering about what you might taste like…” His words died off quietly. The look on my face must have scared him. “Or not,” he mumbled, taking a step back from me. “I’ve obviously misread the signs and you’re not saying anything and I’ve just ruined everything.” He turned and almost ran for the elevator.

“Cooper, stop,” I said, following him and grabbing his arm. “You haven’t misread anything.”

He exhaled in a rush, pure relief, and ran his hand through his hair.

“But I’m not sure,” I said, taking a step closer to him, so we were almost touching.

“We don’t have to,” he said quickly. “I shouldn’t have suggested—”

His words died when I slid my hand along his jaw, I leaned in and could feel his warm breath on my lips. “I’m not sure if once would be enough.”

His eyes were wide and he licked his lips. “Probably not.”

Our lips met, open and soft. It was tender and wary, scared of what was happening, of where this was going. Neither of us moved for a long second, but I gently pulled his bottom lip between my lips and he gasped.

It seemed to kick him into gear because he let his satchel fall to the floor so he could use two hands to hold me. His mouth opened as he deepened the kiss, his hands slid around my waist as his tongue slid into my mouth.

I think I groaned. Or maybe it was him.

I held his face as we kissed, taking in everything about him—the warmth of his body, his soft lips, his taste, his smell. He made my head spin and my knees weak, my heart was thumping and I wanted more.

But then the elevator arrived at our floor and before the door could open, I pulled Cooper’s hand, leading him back into my apartment. He grabbed his satchel off the floor and made it inside, just as old Mrs Giordano walked out of the elevator. I gave her a polite wave and smile as I closed the door and Cooper burst out laughing.

I leaned against the closed door and grinned at him. “Mrs Giordano doesn’t need to see that.”

Cooper put his satchel down against the wall near the door, and with smiling lips, he said, “Mrs what’s-her-name might like to see it.”

“Mrs Giordano is ninety-two years old,” I told him. I was still leaning against the door and he was right in front of me. He wasn’t pressed up against me, but he wasn’t letting me move either. His eyes were flickering from my eyes to my mouth, as though he was about to kiss me again. My voice was just a whisper. “I thought you said just one kiss?”

“I thought you said it wouldn’t be enough,” he whispered back as he touched his lips to mine again. He held my face this time, as he opened my lips with his own. Our tongues met and he pressed his body against me.

I wrapped my hands around his back and pulled him tighter against me. I couldn’t help it. I didn’t want to want him. I didn’t want to like it. I didn’t want to need it.

But I did.

He slowed the kiss, dragging his lips from mine, looking down until his forehead rested on my cheek, then my chin, and eventually he took a small step back. He was breathing hard, but he was smiling. My hands were still on his hips, so he took another small step back, stepping away from me. “I think I should go now,” he said.

I worried that he might panic at the realisation of what just happened. We had just kissed. Twice. Me, his friend’s father, a man twice his age. His boss.

“There’s no need to panic,” I said, realising how stupid it sounded as soon as I’d said it.

“Oh, I’m not panicking,” he said gruffly, then he very obviously readjusted the bulge in his jeans.

“Oh.”

Cooper laughed, embarrassed. Then he took a deep breath and exhaled slowly and looked me in the eye. His eyes were bright and playful. “I will see you in the morning at the office.”

“Okay,” I answered, trying to gauge his mood.

He picked up his satchel, put his hand on the door handle and said, “I’m going to need you to move from the door.”

“Oh,” I said, stepping around him. “Sure.”

Then he stepped right up close and pecked my lips again, kissing me for the third time.

“That’s three,” I told him.

He opened the door. “I’m not counting,” he said as he walked towards the elevator. He looked around and smiled at me before he stepped in. I closed the door to my apartment, wondering what the fuck I’d just done.

I’d just crossed every professional and personal line I’d ever had. He worked for me, and he was my son’s friend. Meaning, he wasn’t just someone Ryan knew, he was someone Ryan went to school with. As in the same age. As in exactly
half
my age. I tried not to think about that. Or what that meant.

Cooper was an adult. A very willing, consenting adult. A very well-endowed adult by what I’d felt pressed against my hip.

And with that thought, I stripped off and got in the shower, seeking relief. Again. To images of Cooper.
Again.
What he would look like underneath me with his head thrown back, or on his knees with his lips around me.

The lips I’d just tasted.

Fuck.

I came so hard the room spun. I leaned against the tiles in the shower to catch my breath and until I was pretty sure I could stand without falling.

Fuck, this guy was doing my head in.

I thought about him all night, what he’d say in the morning at the office, how he’d react when he saw me. I went to bed thinking about him, I dreamt of him. I needed to jerk off again in the morning.

It was getting ridiculous.

It was with a dreaded anticipation I went to work the next day. An errant thought occurred to me when I was stepping out of the elevator to my office that he could report me for sexual harassment and in that split second, a thousand thoughts ran through my head.

I half expected Jennifer to tell me I had a team of lawyers sitting in my office, but she just smiled and handed me messages. “Coffee is on your desk.”

I ran my hand through my hair and huffed out a breath in relief. Jesus, what had I got myself into?

I was at my desk about half an hour later when Jennifer walked in with Cooper behind her. He was dressed in his usual tailor-fitted suit, looking even better today than he ever had, but he said nothing more than a polite and quiet, “Good morning, Mr Elkin.” I had a lunch meeting, and a consult meeting, and I saw him briefly throughout the day. But not once did he make eye contact. He didn’t look at me and smile, or laugh, like I was used to seeing.