Rebound With Me Page 5

  After eating five of Michelle’s cookies and drinking a glass of water, I crash on the couch without washing up for the night. I want to be able to smell Nina on my fingers just a little while longer until I fall asleep.

  Chapter Six

  Nina

  “The nanny left that guy for Russell? Is she blind?”

  “Oh come on. Russell’s a handsome man.”

  “Yeah, in a very Brooks Brothers-bring-him-home-to-meet-Mom kind of way. This guy is so hot I would keep him as far away from my Mom as possible because she would immediately kick me to the curb and try to give him a blowjob.”

  “I thought your parents are still together.”

  “They are.”

  Marnie came over ten minutes ago in her Lululemon outfit and sneakers, claiming to be jogging around Brooklyn, but I know she just wanted to check up on me. She had texted me every ten minutes from five-thirty this morning on until I got back to her, just making sure I didn’t get murdered. Now she wants all the juicy details and I’m trying to stall by claiming that I need a cup of coffee first. As soon as my timer goes off, she presses down on my Bodum French press, pours me a cup and says: “Now. Tell me everything.”

  I woke up this morning feeling sore in places I’ve never been sore before, in a way that has never felt so damned good. I lay awake, remembering last night, still tasting him in my mouth, smelling him on my skin, but I almost couldn’t believe it wasn’t just a dream. I immediately checked my phone to see if he’d called or texted, but realized that we didn’t exchange numbers. We didn’t even exchange last names.

  I can’t believe I completely surrendered myself physically to a stranger so many times, was as vulnerable as I could be, and I might never see Vince again.

  The thought caused my stomach to turn—not the fact that it happened, the possibility that it won’t happen again—but now that I’ve had a shower and an hour to get used to the idea, I am almost complacent just focusing on how good he made me feel for a night and how he saved me from what would surely have been the lamest break-up drinking binge ever. He turned my closed-off anger into openness, turned that into lust, and turned that into sweet satisfaction. He’s an alchemist. I’m grateful.

  I can’t stop smiling.

  “Uh huh,” Marnie says.

  We both collapse onto my sofa.

  “Well I already know you brought him back here, because this place smells like sex and the coffee and incense did nothing to cover it up.”

  I put the coffee mug down and laugh, pulling my knees up to my chin.

  “So I take it he had a penis and a condom and he knew how to use them?”

  “Oh, Marnie.” I drop my head to my knees and cover my face with my hands. “Oh my God.” I lift my head up, but I can’t look at her when I say it. “He also had fingers and a mouth and a tongue and his eyes, oh God his eyes are what really killed me.”

  “Yeah. That and the big hard weapon between his legs, right?”

  I’m blushing. I didn’t divulge much information about my sex life with Russell to Marnie, because there wasn’t that much to talk about and also we all work together so it wasn’t appropriate. But she’s easy and fun to talk to, and I have to talk about this with someone. “Oh my God. It was so amazing.”

  “So the sex all happened before he told you that he had stalked you?”

  “After. Well. Mostly after.”

  “That’s hot. I don’t know why that’s hot, but it’s hot. Last night Dave and I binge-watched Arrested Development, made out for thirty-five seconds and then fell asleep on the couch. I woke up in the middle of the night and his hand was on my boob, his mouth was on my cheek. We literally fell asleep in the middle of making out. Your thing sounds a little more fun.”

  “I would love to stay in and make out while watching Arrested Development. That’s basically my dream date.”

  “Please. In case I haven’t made it clear yet—I’m proud of you. It takes guts to spread your legs for a total stranger. Guts and a blue drink.”

  “I don’t know why, but I just trusted him. I mean, I knew he wouldn’t hurt me. On purpose.”

  “Yeah. It’s the eyes.”

  “Yeah.” I cover my face again, but that just makes it worse, because those eyes of his are all I see. And his mouth. And his chest. And his hands. And his arms. “I kind of hope he doesn’t come back.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I’m afraid I’ll fall in love with him. I don’t think I could handle getting my heart broken by a guy like that.”

  “Awww.” She pats my knee. “Sweetie.”

  I sigh. I’ve been sighing all morning.

  “Well. What the hell right? What’s the worst that could happen? You’re what—thirty?”

  “I’m twenty-seven.”

  “You are?” She looks genuinely shocked by this news.

  “Yes.”

  “I thought we were around the same age.”

  “I’m five years younger than you.”

  “Wow.”

  “Do I look like I’m in my thirties?”

  “No. God no. You look nineteen. You’ve just always had a thirty-something vibe to you. Like, we always joke that you have a secret husband and five kids in Canada and you just work here during the school year.”

  “You do? Who’s we? Is that really what people think of me?”

  “Well, honey, it’s not an insult or anything. You’re just usually so proper. It’s about time you realized you don’t have to act like a first grade teacher every second of your life.”

  I grin. “I said ‘fuck’ a bunch of times last night.”

  “Oh I’ll bet you did. Which Outsiders character is he? Dallas, right? He’s straight-up Dallas Winston.”

  This is a game we play. Whenever we have a troubled boy in our classes we try to figure out which character from The Outsiders he is. I get a lot of Ponyboys and Johnnys in the first grade and by the time they get to her fourth grade class, they’re Steve Randles.

  I had such a crush on Matt Dillon and Dallas Winston when I was thirteen, but I told people that Ponyboy was my favorite.

  “He was probably a Dally when he was younger, but he’s got those Johnny Cade eyes.”

  “Right,” she says, nodding emphatically. “The eyes.” She pulls out her phone and brings up the picture I sent her last night.

  “Sodapop,” we both say at the same time.

  Dreamy.

  “Yeah.” She finally puts her phone back in her hidden pocket. “Sodapop.”

  “Yeah.” I stretch my arms up and yawn, reach for the coffee.

  “You gonna come for a run with me?”

  “Um. I mean, I don’t know if or when he’s going to show up, so…I should probably hang around here.”

  “Can’t you text him?”

  My face falls.

  “He didn’t give you his number?”

  “I don’t even know his last name.”

  “Wow. So you really might not see him again.”

  I pout.

  “Sorry. I’m sure he’ll come back. Of course he will.”

  “But if he doesn’t I’m totally fine with that.”

  “Of course you are.”

  “I am.”

  “Just, you know. If he does come back, and if you do get involved, be careful.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “You know. A guy like that. Just be careful.”

  “I don’t. Marnie. How am I supposed to be careful? Wear a chastity belt?”

  “Yeah. Wear a chastity belt around your heart. I think that’s a Sting song from the Nineties.”

  She hops up off the sofa and stretches her calf muscles, checks her Fitbit. “Okay. I’m gonna go. Call me if you need to talk more. Find an excuse to take more pictures of him if he does come back.”

  I laugh. “Um. No.” I get up to hug her. “Thanks for coming by.”

  “One of these days you’re coming jogging with me.”

  “Oh for sure.”

>   “Stay gold, Ponygirl.”

  While I finish my coffee and stare at the hole he punched in the drywall, I suddenly remember that Vince said: “I can’t believe she fucking left us.”

  Who is “us?” Does he have a kid? There is so much I don’t know about him, but I still feel like he knows me so well. How is that possible?

  I wonder if he’s actually going to come back. Part of me doesn’t even want that hole in the wall to be covered up. I want to take a picture of it and post it on Instagram and say: Last night I had a hot one-night stand with a bad boy stranger and all I got was this hole in the wall and about ninety orgasms.

  I’m going to listen to Joni Mitchell, drink tea and try to put together an outfit for today that says: “I have no regrets about last night, but I’m not that kind of girl. Thank you for honoring your commitment to filling up my hole.”

  Chapter Seven

  Vince

  I shouldn’t go back. I said I’d go back. I want to see her again. It’s a bad idea. We don’t have anything in common. But that was hot. I can’t be the guy who punched a hole in her wall, fucked her and then left without explanation. I’m not that guy. I just can’t stop thinking about her. It’s probably just because she’s new. I need to get back out there.

  “Hey. You hear what I said?” my Dad asks.

  “What? No.” I go back to buttering Charlie’s waffles. “Hey do you have any blueberries or something?”

  “That’s enough butter!” Charlie complains.

  “There’s never enough butter!” I wipe the butter off the knife, onto his waffle, and put the plate in front of him. “Don’t eat it until I find a berry or two.”

  “I think there’s a bag of frozen berries from like two years ago.”

  That reminds me of Nina, and I don’t hear a word he says again for another ten seconds. “What?”

  “What is wrong with you this morning?”

  “Nothing.” I pull a hard bag of blueberries out from the freezer. It’s like a brick. “You don’t have any other fruits?”

  “There’s bananas.”

  “I don’t want a banana on my waffles.”

  “Fine. You can eat it separately.” I toss out the rock-hard bag of blueberries and put a banana on the kitchen table in front of Charlie.

  “Did you get the break-even ratio to that guy for the Henry Street listing?”

  “I cc’d you yesterday. As always. I cc’d you and Karla and Eve and Gabe.”

  “I didn’t see it.”

  “Not my fault, is it?” My Dad’s the founding partner and CEO of the Devlin Commercial Realty Group where I’m a vice-president, so he is my boss, but it’s difficult to treat him with the respect he’s accorded when he’s standing in front of me in his boxers and bright yellow smiley-face slippers, with a chocolate protein shake mustache and a confused look on his face.

  “You hear back from the guy yet? Who’s it—Briggs?”

  “Connor Briggs.”

  “Asshole name.”

  “Total asshole. But he’s very encouraged. I feel good about it. I’ll talk to him and his business manager later today about his timeline. The Bushwick deal should close tomorrow.”

  “Good. Great! Charlie, you need to get dressed.”

  “But you’re not dressed.”

  “I’m not taking you today, Vince is.”

  “I am? I’ve got a client meeting in Williamsburg and I have to go home first.”

  “Shit. I’ve got a conference call in fifteen. We gotta get a new nanny.”

  “Ya think?”

  “I’ll have Karla get into it.” He looks over at Charlie, then gives me a look. “You need to tell him.”

  “Yeah.” I take a seat next to Charlie, who’s shoving half a waffle into his mouth. “Hey, buddy, there’s something I need to tell you.”

  “About Sadie?” He doesn’t look at me.

  “Yeah. How’d you know?”

  He shrugs.

  “Anyway, you know how Sadie and I were dating? Which is why she was still coming around even though she didn’t work as your nanny anymore—I mean, she also loved to hang out with you, she wanted to see you. Anyway. Sadie and I aren’t dating anymore, so you might not see her much anymore. If at all.”

  He stares at his plate and chews.

  “I mean, we might run into her, or see her around the neighborhood,” my Dad offers.

  “Yeah, for sure, but she’s just not my girlfriend anymore, you get what that means, right?”

  He swallows and looks at me sideways. “It means you aren’t boning her anymore?”

  My Dad groans.

  “He learned that from Gabe, not me.”

  “It’s just a matter of time before somebody calls social services.”

  “That’s not funny.” I turn to Charlie, who’s totally stoic in a way that breaks my heart. “Do you have any questions about the situation? It’s okay for you to be sad or mad or whatever. You can cry if you think you might miss her or whatever.”

  “Well. Not in public.”

  “He can cry in public if he needs to, Dad.”

  “Enh. It’s not like she’s dead, she’s just not your girlfriend anymore.”

  I try not to glare at him. My dad and brother think I’m overprotective of this kid’s feelings because I’m such a big pussy myself, and I don’t think they recognize what a sensitive little guy he is.

  “If you want to be mad at me, Charlie, you be mad at me. Right?”

  “Okay.” He sighs and pushes back his chair. “I have to get dressed. Who’s taking me to day camp?”

  My Dad and I look at each other. “Michelle?”

  “She goes to work at eight. I’ll call Gabe and see where he’s at.”

  We are not killing it as caregivers this morning.

  Fortunately, my brother was free to take Charlie to camp, so that somehow worked out in the way that things always somehow do. I can’t help but feel guilty, even though I know it’s not totally my responsibility. I guess everyone was right when they told me not to bang the hot nanny and I didn’t listen—even though her quitting to take the better-paying job had nothing to do with me. At least I don’t think it did. If anything, she stuck with Charlie longer than she would have because we were dating. I can’t believe she was the longest relationship I’ve ever had. The only girl I’ve ever dated exclusively for more than a couple of months. And how am I rewarded?...I can’t even feel angry about it right now.

  I was rewarded with Nina.

  Not that she’s mine.

  I was rewarded with last night.

  Last night was perfect.

  After my meeting in Williamsburg I have about three hours free if I cancel lunch and let my partner Eve dine with our twin chef clients on her own (she will love that), so I stop by my favorite hardware store to pick up supplies and find my way back to Nina’s street. I have to park two blocks away, but it’s nice out and I feel like I can use the walk to get my head straight before seeing her again.

  The restaurateur I met with this morning is a real player, a guy I hung out with a lot a couple years ago, and it’s been a while since I’d seen him. He immediately listed like nine women that I needed to meet. Women who’d asked him about me recently, women he’d been with that he thought I’d like, a woman who was passing by on the sidewalk outside the property I was showing him. I finally told him: “I’ve been in a relationship for a while, actually.” He was shocked to hear this and asked to see pictures of my girlfriend. Obviously I didn’t show him pictures of Sadie, I told him I didn’t have any of her on my business phone. I don’t know why I said that, but I was thinking about Nina and how I wish I had pictures of her, even though I’ve been seeing her face every time I close my eyes for hours and hours.

  Which is nuts.

  I need to just get in there, patch up the drywall, and get out. It was a one-time thing, we both got something out of our systems so we could move on from our own separate things. I need to be clear about that. Of course, I’m j
ust assuming that she’d even want to see me again. I’m sure I’m not her type. Unless “guy who makes me come hard and often” is her type, but I have a feeling that was a first for her.

  I wish that didn’t make me smile like an idiot.

  I like the tree-lined street she lives on. It’s not fancy, but it feels safe. I’m sure that’s why she picked it. She doesn’t answer after I’ve buzzed her from the front door twice. I walk down the stoop and look up at the top floor windows. The curtains are open. Guess she’s not home. Guess I shouldn’t have just assumed she’d wait around for me all day.

  “Hey,” she says, her voice behind me. I turn to see her coming in through the low metal gate, carrying a grocery bag, wearing jean shorts and a thin white blouse over a tank top, her hair up in a ponytail and nothing on her feet but a pair of flip-flops.

  I should have parked farther away so I had longer to prepare myself for seeing her again, in the light of day.

  I can see golden strands in her brown hair in the sunlight. No make-up, skin glowing in the way that surely only the truly happy and innocent can. Looking up at me through her eyelashes, blushing. She is so fucking hot and cute, I want to spend the rest of the day slowly kissing every inch of her and then make her scream my name all night.

  I shouldn’t have come back.

  I instantly feel jealous that anyone else got to see her like this, but I’ve got no right to feel this way.

  “Sorry, have you been waiting long? I just popped out to grab a few things.”

  “No, I just got here. Is now a good time for me to…deal with the drywall situation?”

  “Now is an excellent time. Thanks for coming back. I wasn’t sure if you would.”

  “I’m a man of my word.”

  “What a pleasant surprise.”

  I get a whiff of her shampoo or something when she walks by me to unlock the front door. I want to grab hold of that ponytail so bad and hear her make that gasping sound from her pillowy pink lips. I shift the bag of hardware stuff and my cordless screwdriver kit into one hand and take her grocery bag from her.