What Love Looks Like (10 page)

11

 
After
Jay showered, it was my turn. I smiled as he dragged his hand across my naked
body as our paths crossed. I quickly soaped up my body and was careful not to
get my hair wet. Standing in the nude with only a wall separating Jay and me, I
prayed that he wouldn’t notice if the shoebox had shifted slightly. I wasn’t
entirely sure what to make of it, but I chalked it up to his probably just
being forgetful. Probably the box had been there for quite some time and Jay
had completely forgotten about it. I definitely wasn’t going to let one little
shoebox ruin our weekend together.

I ran a
straightening iron over my hair, using just a dollop of frizz serum and adding
a little bit of wave by tying it into a low ballerina bun for a few minutes,
something I’d done almost every single day for as long as I could remember.
While my hair was acquiring waves, I applied five minutes' worth of makeup and
got dressed. I wore a one-shoulder black minidress with ruching down both
sides. Modish costume jewels embellished the shoulder, which made the dress
glamorous even before adding accessories. I added a large cocktail ring and a
pair of crystal drop earrings. To finish my look, I threw on a white blazer
from Zara and plain black pumps. The ensemble was edgy; there was nothing soft
about it. It felt apropos for New York and even elicited a whistle from Jay
when I exited the bathroom; he was at his kitchen table drinking an Amstel
Light.

He’d only taken
about twenty minutes in total to get ready for the night, and of course I was
pleased with the outcome. He wore a slender roughed-up pair of jeans with a
soft, fitted, long-sleeved black Henley and vintage-looking distressed black
leather loafers. As I walked by him, he pulled me in close from behind, making
sure our private parts touched constantly when we embraced. He kissed my neck,
softly for a change, as I took a deep breath of his cologne.

“I’m going to
get hard again if we keep doing this,” he said.

“Well you
started it,” I whispered in his ear. “And is that such a bad thing?”

“Definitely not
a bad thing—except with you, I don’t want a quickie. There are still
things I want to do to you, and a five-minute fuck session just won’t do them
justice. So it’ll have to wait until after dinner.” His hand crept down my ass
and between my legs. Suddenly it was up my dress.

“Stop,” I said,
fighting the urge to tug at his hair.

“Why?”

“You’re turning
me on.”

“That’s the
point. I want you to think about fucking me all night long. It’ll be that much
sweeter when we get back.”

“Where are we
going, anyway?” My empty stomach writhed in anticipation of dinner. I realized
I had no idea what awaited me for the remainder of the trip. Of course, I knew
sex would be big on the agenda, but I also hoped to see some of the city.

“A place called
Beauty and Essex. It’s on the Lower East Side.” He turned off the lights in the
apartment and led me out the door, though not by the hand as I’d hoped he
would.

        
“Interesting
name,” I said.

        
“Interesting
place, you’ll see.”

        
The
cab ride was twenty-five minutes of pure terror, and I wondered if he driver
might have been suicidal. He drove in such a way that if I’d had eaten lunch
that day I certainly would have lost it.

        
“Do
they always drive like this?” I asked Jay softly.

        
“Like
what?” He seemed oblivious to my panic. I took it as a yes. “Are you having fun
so far?”

“Absolutely.” It
was a better response than what was really in my head:
Jay Conrad, I’m having the time of my life, and sex with you has been
the most validating experience I've ever had. If our relationship doesn’t work
out, I’ll be lost again. Simply being in your presence makes me feel sexy,
powerful, and popular—all the things that I’ve never felt before. Can I
move to New York and live with you? We can share your tiny apartment, have sex
until we’re blue in the face, and I can walk around with you on my arm, thus
substantiating my very existence.

“Good.” He
continued to glance out onto the street from the taxi and look at his phone
sometimes. Lost in thought or in a text message? I couldn’t really tell.
Perhaps he was just checking sports scores like my brother did all the time.

        
The
city sights overwhelmed me, as did the day I'd had with Jay; his presence alone
was all I needed. With the connection we shared, conversation was practically
unnecessary. He’d mentioned that we'd be meeting a few of his friends for
dinner, and while I was happy he was sharing his life with me, part of me had
hoped it would be just the two of us. Winning him over was a task in and of
itself, but garnering the approval of his undoubtedly cool friends was more
than I was ready for. But I was in Jay’s company, so I couldn’t complain.

The driver
finally slowed his vehicle, and I kissed the cross that discretely hung around
my neck, grateful to have survived the treacherous ride. Jay led me through the
entrance of Beauty and Essex. Though the door to get in wasn’t noteworthy, the
interior was impressive. The lobby was crowded with people our age, give or
take a few years, all dressed to the nines. Behind a mahogany desk, hipster
girls waited to greet people. The desk was positioned in front of the largest,
most glamorous chandelier I’d ever seen. It was pure crystal and nearly touched
the floor. It must have weighed half a ton.

Jay leaned in
and whispered to one of the girls, and she flirtatiously signaled with her
index finger, leading us into the massive restaurant. We passed one bar on the
right, which was adorned with mirrors and more impressive light fixtures. We
were led into an enormous space with ceilings that felt a thousand feet high.
The center of the ceiling was glass with lush greenery bordering it, perfectly
framing the moonlit sky.

I was used to
fine dining establishments because of my career, but Beauty and Essex was
mind-boggling. The dining room was lined with banquettes, and round tables
dotted the center. The music was loud—very loud—but the tracks were
some of my favorites. Music from both retro and contemporary artists bellowed
through the speakers. I’d entered a realm of cool that moments earlier I hadn’t
known existed.

We landed at a
banquette on the left-hand side, where three guys and one girl were already
seated and sipping drinks. Two of the guys stood when we arrived, shook Jay’s
hand, and then hugged me as if we were longtime friends.

        
“You're
right, she is pretty,” said a small but attractive guy wearing a tight
button-down flannel shirt with rolled-up sleeves, expensive looking jeans, and
a lot of product in his longish hair. “Elle, I’m Johnny.” He shook my hand. “So
nice to finally meet you.”

        
“Great
to meet you too. How do you know Jay?”

        
“We
went to college together in Pennsylvania and both ended up here. Now we live in
the same neighborhood.” Johnny was friendly; he had a midwestern sensibility
about him, yet he blended in with the New York scene with no trouble at all.

        
“I
see you’ve met Johnny already,” Jay said. First, he’d greeted the guy and girl
who were seated. “Now meet my boy Alex.”

        
I
shook hands with Alex, who was still standing. He was also good-looking, though
in a less traditional way. His tattooed arms showed beneath a white T-shirt,
creating the edgy look that I was so fond of in my early twenties. He was
quieter than Johnny but not impolite. Last, I met Mark and Shawn, the two
people who were still seated. They were a married couple, and Shawn was Jay’s
cousin on his mother’s side. All four of the guys had gone to school together,
and had each ended up in New York following graduation. Johnny worked with Jay
at EZware, which appeared to employ a plethora of twenty-something’s. Following
my discovery of the shoebox, this wasn’t the greatest news. I instantly
imagined twenty-two-year-old girls, fresh of out of college and throwing
themselves at Jay.

        
I
found a seat second from the end, next to Shawn, with Jay on my other side. He
draped his arm lazily around my shoulder as he sipped the Jack Daniels and Coke
that his friends had preordered for him. When the waiter came around, I asked
for equal parts Tanqueray and St. Germain elderflower liqueur with a splash of
soda. It was a concoction from the cocktail menu at East Coast Prime and was
something I indulged in only on special occasions.

        
“That
looks fun!” Shawn said once my drink arrived.

        
We
were seated extremely close to one another, considering we’d only just met, but
she seemed nice and smelled good, so I was fine with the proximity. She had
blonde hair with side-swept bangs and huge boobs. She was adorable—very
all-American looking, and definitely someone I’d imagine as part of the Conrad
family. Incidentally, Shawn was also exactly the type of girl I would have
guessed Jay usually dated.

“Do you want to
try it?” I offered her my glass. She took a small sip, and her face lit up.

        
“Yum!”
she said. “You have good taste. I like your jacket too.”

        
“Thanks,
it’s from Zara.”

“They have Zara
in Ohio?” She looked at me, amused.

        
“I
got it online. I do most of my shopping online now.” Sure, it was small talk,
but I was just glad there was another woman there to entertain me while Jay
caught up with his friends.

        
“You
would love living here if you’re a shopping junkie,”

        
“Tell
me about it—I love it already. A far cry from Columbus.”

        
“I
feel for you. I’m from an even smaller town than that in Pennsylvania. The same
place Jay’s from,” she said.

        
“That’s
really sweet that you both have each other here.” It was odd that he hadn’t
mentioned her before. “Do you see him often?”

        
“Once
a month or so. He goes out—a lot. And I'm more of a homebody.”

        
“I’m
the same way.”

        
“Ha!”
she said, laughing, “then you’re with the wrong guy.”

        
Ouch—that
stung. It didn’t seem like she meant any harm by it, but it hurt anyway. The
music was blaring, and I prayed that it was drowning out what Shawn and I were
chatting about so Jay couldn't hear.

“Oh, I’m so
sorry—was that harsh? It just came out. I really didn’t mean it that
way,” Shawn said apologetically. She must have seen the devastation on my face.

        
“That’s
okay,” I said, feeling defeated.

        
“Truth
be told, I wish he’d find someone like you. And his parents do too. You seem
nice, you’re pretty, and you’re wearing more than one square foot of fabric as
clothing.”
 

        
“What
does that mean?”

        
“Ugh.
There goes my big mouth again.” She looked amused. “Well, speaking girl to
girl, Jay has a tendency to date—abundantly. And his preference tends to
be really slutty girls, and lots of them. Sometimes multiple girls at once,
even.” I felt sick to my stomach. “I feel you should know that now. He’s broken
a lot of hearts.”