In Pursuit (15 page)

For the next hour, Amanda supplies the feedback and I take diligent notes. Peter’s supposed infidelity doesn’t come up again, and I’m glad. The first thing that came to mind when I saw the panties was Peter’s flirtatious overtures with Claire.

What a mess.

Once the door shuts behind me, Amanda promising to get in touch when she returns from her mother’s house in Houston, I yank my phone out of my bag to re-read Harris’ text. He even sent a follow up message thirty minutes after the original. As I walk back to the train, I message him back.

Harris: Did I scare you away?

Eddie:  Of course not. I was working. ;)

Harris: The prospect of a date with you distracted me. I forgot you went to Amanda’s. How did that go?

Does he know that Peter’s cheating on Amanda? Either way, if he knows or doesn’t know, I decide it’s better not get involved in the drama.

Eddie: Great, she liked what I brought, so the train keeps moving.

Harris: I expect nothing less from you.

I’m climbing up the staircase to the platform when that message comes in, causing me to smile stupidly.

Harris: Don’t leave me hanging here. Am I taking you out tomorrow?

Eddie: I think that could be fun.

There’s no response for several minutes, and nervousness creeps in. Did he change his mind? When I am exiting the train to walk home, my phone starts jangling in my hand. He’s calling me.

“Hi.”

“Edith – ” There’s muffled noise in the background, and I wonder what he is doing. “Sorry, I just stepped out of a meeting.”
He left a meeting to talk to me. Wow.
“I couldn’t get out of there any faster, or I would have called you ten minutes ago.”

“Why?”

“Apparently I’ve fucked this up pretty badly if you think a date between us would only be fun.” He says the word with disdain. “It’s been a while since I’ve conveyed my romantic interest in a woman.” His voice is low, like he doesn’t want anyone to overhear the conversation. “Look, I’m a self-admitted idiot. I promise way more than just
fun
when you go out with me tomorrow. Which, by the way, you are going because... You can’t say no, Edith. I’m a persistent, self-admitted idiot who won’t take no for an answer.”

I smile at that, imagining him scrubbing a hand through his buzzed hair as he speaks.

I’m silent, replaying his words in my head. Though I’m in the middle of Chicago Avenue with commuters and urbanites rushing around me, I pause and close my eyes to savor his words.

“I would love to go out with you tomorrow.”

He hums a noise of approval. “I knew you’d make the right choice. I’ll be in touch later, excellent Edith.”

“Bye, hilarious Harris.” I say softly, enjoying our nickname game. The phone clicks off, reminding me I’m road blocking the sidewalk. A rough shoulder knocks into me, urging me forward and I find my way back home. When I’m riding the elevator back upstairs, I check my phone.

Harris: Just in case you’re keeping score – this is our second date

Eddie: When was our first?

Harris: You cooked me a delightful meal yesterday. My stomach is very angry because it hasn’t had more of your cooking.

Eddie: I didn’t plan that dinner! There was no formal request for a date.

Harris: Still counts

Eddie: I was practically in my pajamas.

Harris: Unfortunately for me, you weren’t.

I gasp, nearly dropping the phone. Now, what am I going to wear?

Sean and I are spread out on my bed, the television providing background effects. Claire’s at some client dinner. Harris hasn’t texted me, other than to tell me that he would pick me up at seven thirty tomorrow night. For the time being, I so
do not want my roommate knowing that I’m going out with her brother, but he might be telling her right at this very moment. Ugh.

“Do you think Amanda’s husband is cheating on her?” Sean asks as he scrolls through the channels on the flat screen. He loves the gossip.

“That thong was pretty damning, but who knows? Stranger things have happened.”

“Oh, stop! He’s fucking so many bitches that he carries their panties with him.”

I grab one of the decorative pillows from the bed and whack him playfully on the shoulder. “Quit that!”

“The truth hurts.” He pulls the pillow from my grasp and gives me the same treatment.

“We can speculate all night about that, but let’s get to the good stuff. Get your lazy butt out of this bed and start trying on outfits for your date!” He gives me a gentle shove, almost rolling me onto the floor.

“Okay, okay,” I mock groan as I push myself off the bed.

Inside my closet, I hover between the hanging dresses and tops. I have no clue where to start. Thankfully, Sean is ready and willing to shed some light on the situation. With a sigh, I pull out a tight black dress, peek my head out of the closet, and hold it up.

Sean wrinkles his nose. “Too
Cell Block Tango
for a first date.”

“
Chicago
?” I guess, naming the musical from the song he mentioned.

“You got it.”

“Did I mention he’s calling this our second date? Says that the night I cooked us dinner – he came, uninvited, mind you – was the first date.” I peer out again, this time holding a belted pink dress.

“Um, there was no first date, and that dress is too
Popular
. What message are we trying to send here? You need an outfit that says ‘I’m delicious enough for that nickname edible Edith, but you can’t have me. Tonight.’”

“Sean! You are nuts! And was that a reference to
Wicked?
”

“You like musicals, too?” He’s amped by that notion.

“No, but Sarah makes me listen with her.”

A groan of disapproval comes from the bedroom, then a few seconds later, he bursts into the closet and begins rummaging through my hangers. “Let me find something.”

“Hello, lovelies! What are you doing in there?” Claire’s voice calls from my bedroom.

I give Sean a wild, pleading look, begging him not to say anything. He nods in understanding.

“I’m sure there’s a joke here about hiding in the closet,” she says with a raised eyebrow once she finds us.

Sean laughs good-naturedly, and I attempt the same.

“If you couldn’t tell by my duds,” he runs a hand down his designer t-shirt, “I’m a clotheshorse, and I want to pick through my girl’s wardrobe.”

“Sounds like a total blast,” Claire responds, rolling her eyes dramatically. “I am going to catch some shut eye. Too much fun last night.” She elbows me in the ribs and gives her trademark cheeky grin. I smile back weakly, still wondering who she’s spending time with. She air kisses both of us then leaves, shutting the bedroom door behind her.

“Phew,” I say, wiping imaginary sweat off my brow. “It’s probably a bad thing that I can’t tell her Harris is taking me out, right?”

Sean doesn’t look at me while he responds, picking through my dresses. “I won’t say it’s a good thing, but you haven’t even been on the date yet. Wait and see what happens, you might not even like the guy.”

“Maybe I won’t like him, but I’ll still want to sleep with him. His arms, Sean, have you seen them? Those are not the arms you find on every guy. It's like they were cut from marble, and if they were around me while we were in the middle of sex?” I sigh.

“Found it!” Apparently, he’s not listening, which is a good thing, because I am practically panting at the thought of those arms anchoring me to him, our eyes locked as he moves in me slowly at first...

“Wait, found what?”

Sean reveals a feminine black dress Sarah gave me for my last birthday. The silk crepe falls around my body like a dream, while pin-tucks create a playful texture on the tank dress.

“Wake up and stop thinking about his dick, hmm?” Sean says, waving the garment in front of me. “This is perfect to dress up or dress down. My work here is done.” He grabs my hand and drags me back to the bed, where we flop back against the pillows.

“I can trust you to pick out your own shoes, right?” he asks as he begins flicking through the channels again.

“Yes, sir,” I snap.

Whack!
A pillow smacks me in the face.

“That’s probably what you’ll be saying to him tomorrow night when he is doing you on his terrace, overlooking the city.” 

I glare at him in mock outrage, then we both burst into uncontrollable laughter til we grasp at each other to cease the chuckles.

L
ess than two weeks into my Chicago life, and I’m on my first date. Luckily Claire has a date with a hedge fund wunderkind (her description, not mine) and will be home depending on “how fuckable he is.”

So while I am carefully curling my hair into beachy waves and applying makeup for my own date with her brother, the apartment remains blissfully quiet. If my date goes well – I really, really want it to go well – then I will broach the topic with my roommate. With my mouth hanging open I apply my mascara. I can’t break this habit of gaping lips, but I read on the internet that it’s commonplace, so it must be true. Right? 

My cell phone chirps with a text from Sean, wishing me good luck. After I respond to my friend, I review an exchange Harris and I had earlier.

Harris: Good morning elusive Eddie

Eddie: Good morning hungry Harris

Harris: I am hungry for something, but not food.

That pretty much stumped me, so I didn’t respond for twenty minutes.

Eddie:
 
Dress code for tonight?

Harris: Mm – you don’t want me to answer that. Wear what makes you happy.  

Now that it’s nearly time to see him, I’m a bundle of nervous energy, trying to get myself ready with shaky hands and bees of excitement buzzing in my belly.

Just as I’m dabbing perfume on my neck, there’s a knock at the front door. I glance at my watch. It’s seven twenty five, and I’m not wearing shoes or lip gloss. I jog to the entrance, anxiety nearly bubbling over. Whoever this is needs to go away fast. Without looking through the peephole, I pull the door open.

It’s him.

Masculinity flows off him in tantalizing waves. In a pair of faded jeans that mold to his thighs (probably his amazing ass, too) and a crisp white button down shirt, sleeves rolled to his elbows revealing muscular forearms, he looks, in a word that he used to describe me once, edible. I drink in the sight of him, enthralled by the beat of his pulse at his neck and the way his Adam’s apple bobs when he swallows. Boat shoes and a well worn brown leather belt finish his ensemble and I realize, looking down at my own attire, I’m overdressed.

Before I can utter a word, he steps forward and sweeps me off my feet into a fierce hug. My cheek presses into his muscular chest and I reach up around his back to hold him close to me. His arms completely encircle me, making me feel protected and safe. I revel in the affection, cherishing the moment.

He splays his hands across my lower back, touching the top of my ass. I nearly shiver at the contact, but manage to hold it together when his very apparent arousal begins to grow against my abdomen.
He feels this, too.

His lips are next to my ear when he whispers, “I think hugs are appropriate for second dates, don’t you?”

I nod against him, this contact rendering me unable to speak. We stay like that for another few beats, clinging to one another like the sun is exploding outside and this is our last chance to be together on this earth.

Almost reluctantly, he lowers me to the ground, but I can’t let go of this feeling, so I grip on to his biceps.

“Hi.” I’m completely breathless.

Harris smirks confidently. “Hello. Are you ready?” He eyes my shoeless feet.

 “You robbed me of my grand entrance,” I say accusingly, but soften it with a smile. Then I release my grip on him and walk back toward my bedroom.