Imaginary Lines (15 page)

He leaned his forehead forward against mine, breathing deeply. His hands cradled my neck. “Oh, God, Tamar.”

I had melted. I was a puddle of want, and incapable of forming actual words. Instead, I just leaned my forehead against his and made a soft noise of agreement.

“Come—” He visibly strained himself, pausing until he had caught his breath. “I have to go to Miami.”

Words. Maybe I could manage one or two words. “I know.”

“I wish you were coming with me.”

“Me too.”

He closed his eyes like the very claws of temptation were raking down his spine. Then he set me back a foot. “You should go home.”

I should? I should. “Okay.”

My brain didn’t start functioning until after I’d reemerged from the subway in Astoria. I lifted my head. The moon, a fine yellow sickle, glowed bright in the blackish sky. My legs were cold in their tights but my chest stayed warm beneath my sweater and coat. The chill didn’t bother me; it felt bracingly fresh, invigorating and empowering. I’d never felt so alive as I felt in this movement, with the wind sliding over but not touching me, protected by the spell of the moonlight. I felt special. I felt amazing. I felt like, for the first time in my life, I’d swum through an iridescent sea of magic and I shimmered with it still.

Chapter Twelve

They lost to Miami.

In Waxy’s, we groaned and buried our heads in our arms. Old Ray shook his head unhappily as he wiped down the counter. The one Halloween ghoul looked appropriately glum.

“What are they thinking?” Carlos howled.

Oh, God. What was I thinking? Why had I kissed Abe? I was crazy. What had happened to getting over Abraham Krasner?

But then I remembered the first thing on my list.
Find magic.

And the last, before Abe:
Be happy.

But they weren’t supposed to come with Abraham.

I’ve heard some people say that in football season, every Sunday is like Christmas. I wouldn’t know about that. I like Christmas and all—a day devoted to Chinese food and movies!—but I was well aware I didn’t get the emotion most of the country got out of it.

But I was pretty sure I was very close to that anticipation now.

At least it was a good week to be distracted. The whole city was alive with mischief as Halloween approached. On Saturday, I’d gone out with my roommates, dressed as a haphazard Raggedy Ann to Jaz’s haphazard Raggedy Andy. We were both extremely proud of how little effort our costumes took.

Lucy had announced she would be going as a mermaid, because of course she happened to have mermaid accessories from last year’s Coney Island parade, which of course she’d been part of. I personally though her shell-bra looked like a very cold idea, but she assured me it would be warm in the club, and she could wear her jacket until we arrived. Her aquamarine skirt fishtailed in flowing waves of silk, and she added conch-shell earrings and a tiara, because of course she was a mermaid princesses.

Sabeen had regarded us with a degree of distrust. “I don’t get it.”

“Just pick something.” Lucy had gestured at her wardrobe, which was stocked with dresses, wigs, and jewelry. “I have cat-ears for the easiest, or I’m pretty sure we could put together a pirate costume.”

Sabeen had appeared unconvinced, but finally settled for being a blonde. This had confused the rest of us, but Sabeen had then been confused that we were confused after telling her she could be anything, so we decided it was really a non-worthwhile rabbit hole.

So we were the Raggedies, a mermaid and a blonde.

On actual Halloween, almost the whole office headed to one of the bars on the block for after-work drinks. In a close-knit office where everyone was around the same age and everyone liked each other and worked long hours, it was kind of like instant-friends. Especially when many of us had moved here for this job, and didn’t already have a huge network. So we wrapped up work early on Tuesday and then went to one of the bars downstairs.

It wasn’t an official Today Media event, but it definitely wasn’t just people from
Sports
who went. A bunch of the girls from the women’s mag dressed in stupid sexy costumes—like sexy slice of pizza and sexy crayon and sexy tree. The regular news reporters just wore a bunch of cheap headbands with elephant and cat ears, while the comic division wore mostly superhero T-shirts over their jeans and Chucks.

I felt vaguely embarrassed that we were all such stereotypes. Even as I pulled on one of Abe’s old jerseys, which his mom had gifted to me one Hanukkah.

You know, you’d think she’d be less blatant about giving me her son’s personal effects, but that never seemed to slow her down.

My roommates came out to join us, and we all drank wine and cocktails until the room spun and no one could stop giggling. I met Jin’s fiancée, and watched Mduduzi dance super-awkwardly with a girl dressed as Mr. Potato Head, and a good time was had by all. The next morning, we all came in armed with breakfast sandwiches, plugged in our headphones, and drank coffee from eight to eight, while Tanya snorted and shook her head.

By Saturday, my nervous energy rendered me useless at anything besides watching the clock and hoping the next twenty-four hours passed with accelerated speed. To distract myself, I began streaming
Buffy
at ten in the morning. She’d been exchanging witty repartee with Spike for barely twenty minutes when my phone buzzed.

To my utter shock and delight, the screen said
Abraham.

My heart leaped high in my throat, and I had to swallow it down before I picked up. Somehow I had willed him into calling me. I was magical. “Hey.”

Even though I couldn’t see his face, I could hear the smile in his voice. “Hey, you. You live in Astoria, right?”

I glanced outside, in case my apartment building had whisked me away to Oz. A pigeon lifted from the sill and left behind a pasty white blotch. “Yup.”

“Cool. You home? I’m on Broadway and Thirty-fifth.”

“I am,” I said in a slight daze, and gave him my address.

“Be there in five.”

I set down my phone and stared at my mirror, which reflected shock and confusion. Then I went into freak-out mode and started running around my apartment like a headless chicken. Oh, God. Abe was coming
here.
Were things clean? Did I look like a human?

I slid to a stop in front of the bathroom mirror. Oh hey, I did look like a human. Cool. Wait, I wasn’t wearing a bra. I dashed into my room and snapped on my polka-dot favorite, and then stared into my shirt drawer in a dazed panic. A shirt. I needed to pick a shirt.

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.

Then it sprang to the ground in an arched leap and began pacing back and forth. The sinuous wind of its leanly muscled body reminded everyone with senses that it was a predator, no matter how often it pretended to laze about. “I’ll admit, you wouldn’t make a bad leopard.”