Confessions of an Ex-Girlfriend (35 page)

Clearly something had happened to Sebastian. Or some
one.
After he had set the tea in front of me and took a seat across the table, bowing his head briefly to pray, I asked the question I'd been wondering about since I'd first arrived today and witnessed his glowing presence. “So, are you dating anyone?”

He shook his head and sipped his tea, heaving a great sigh of pleasure.

I sipped
my
tea, and when I discovered the thin, dank taste, I
wondered if I were drinking a different brew. “I'm not dating anyone, either,” I offered, though he hadn't asked. “And it's starting to get on my nerves.”

He smiled and waved a hand at me. “Oh, Emma. You just need to get laid.”

My eyes widened. I certainly didn't see that one coming, not with Sebastian sitting there in his oriental robe, looking so serene and content. I was expecting something more along the lines of say, a quick chant to calm the mind.

“What?” he said, looking mildly offended at what I imagined was the surprised expression on my face. “Did you think I had become a monk, Emma?” He rolled his eyes. “Please!”

Then he raked his fingers through his curly blond locks, a look of mischief coming over his cherub face. “I have learned the key to all relationships is no relationship.” He shrugged. “I am just better when I am by myself. More at peace. Probably because I don't have to deal with another person's
mishegoss.
” He rolled his eyes again. “After John, I've had enough to last me two lifetimes.” Then he shrugged. “I don't really need anything from anyone else. Except sex. And that can be had easily enough.”

Ah, to be a gay man in New York City, I thought to myself. Was it that effortless to get laid without getting…screwed? “So is that your secret?” I asked.

“Secret?”

“To happiness,” I explained. “You just seem so calm. So happy.”

He smiled beatifically. “I have learned happiness from my guru, Emma. No man can teach you that,” he said, gesturing to the framed photo on his bookshelf of that wise Indian woman he'd shown me the last time we'd gotten together. As I studied her smooth, clean features, her carefully placed bindi, I wasn't convinced. Though she had that same beatific smile on her face, her eyes seemed somewhat…sad.

“Do you think some people were meant to be alone?” I asked now, fearing the answer.

“Only if they want to be,” he said. “It is a choice. Everything in life is a choice, though most people don't see it that way.”

With that, the timer went off and Sebastian jumped into action, checking a few foils, then beginning the careful process of unwrapping my hair. Once the foils were out, he guided me to the sink and gently washed out the color formula I hoped would change my life for the better. As was his practice, he kept me away from all mirrors until he had completed the blow-dry—he liked the drama of watching my expression once I witnessed the complete transformation.

I didn't disappoint him. Once my hair had been blown into smooth, shiny waves about my face and I stepped before the mirror and saw all that glossy gold color lighting up my features, I couldn't help but smile with pure joy. “I'm beautiful!” I exclaimed, then turned to hug him.

“Oh, Emma,” he said, pulling me into his embrace. “You were
always
beautiful.” Then he leaned away from me, studying his handiwork. “Now you're simply…
more
beautiful!”

And as I turned to see my reflection once more, I realized, with a flow of happy warmth through my veins, that he was right.

 

Confession: I am blond. Hear me roar!

 

That evening I headed home with my tummy pleasantly full from the soba noodles and vegetables Sebastian had fed me once he finished my hair, and the number for my local yoga institute tucked away in my wallet. Though I wouldn't accept the guru, Sebastian had managed to convince me of the value of meditation. I didn't know that I would try it, but I took the card anyway. As I came to my corner, I stopped then turned toward Heavenly Dee-lites, thinking I might indulge in a little Double Mocha Chip. Not because I was feeling blue and hoping to drown my sorrows, just because it had been a good day and now I wanted to finish it off with a sweet, low-calorie treat. Besides, I hadn't been there in a while and I didn't want the sweet old couple who ran the place to think something had happened to such a loyal customer.

The moment I stepped through the front door and saw
him
inside, I panicked. I thought he had quit, or been seduced by some other desperate customer and promptly fired. But there he stood, broad-
shouldered and beautiful in a T-shirt that stretched across that amazing chest, and a pair of perfectly faded jeans hugging those slender hips. I was immediately tongue-tied.

“Hey,” he said with a smile that zipped through me, “if it isn't Ms. Double Mocha Chip. Where've you been?”

I immediately became defensive, which caused my tongue to untie and unleash the kind of comment a woman should never make to a man she fantasizes about sleeping with. “Yeah, well, sorry to disappoint you, but I do have a life. And the name is Emma Carter—”

“Whoa, whoa,” he said, “slow down, Emma. It was just that I…I was kinda wondering what happened to you.”

All the anger drained out of me. He was?

“And my name's Griffin Rivers. But you can call me Griffin. If we're going to continue to see each other, I think we should at least be on a first-name basis.” He smiled. “Now, what'll it be? The usual?”

I sighed, embarrassed. “Yes, the…usual.”

I shivered as I watched him sift through the freezer between us, pull out that familiar container, then pause before he dropped it into a bag. “I'm sorry, did you want the gallon-size or this pint-size?”

“The pint, of course,” I answered quickly.

“None for the roommates?”

I frowned. “Roommates? I don't have any—” I stopped, suddenly remembering the fib I had told to cover my gluttony. I smiled. “Turns out they've all…moved out.”

“Ah…” he said, a smile lingering on that beautiful mouth as he bagged the pint, then proceeded to the register to ring me up.

When he handed me back my change, his hand brushing mine, I felt it. That zing. That powerful connection I'd only read about a zillion times—and experienced only twice, both times with him. Griffin. The Skinny Scoop man. Suddenly Sebastian's earlier suggestion that I needed to get laid rang through me. No woman in her right mind would leave this store without securing a date with such a promising bed partner, minimum-wage worker or not. He was just too…hot. But how? How did I go about getting this man
in my bed? I was way out of my league. He was a god. Jade's kind of god. Not the kind of bespectacled geek I usually warmed up to.

Drawing on all my courage—somewhat heightened when I remembered how absolutely fabulous I had looked upon leaving Sebastian's this afternoon—I started in. “Thanks.” I smiled.
Now what?
In a last grab at straws, I held up my purchase. “So now that I'm without roommates, looks like I won't be coming by so…often.”

“I don't know,” he said. “That stuff's pretty addictive.”

No kidding. “Well, just in case I don't make it here next Saturday night, maybe we should meet up anyway. You know, go for drinks or something. Maybe somewhere—” I looked around the small store, lined with organic fruits and vegetables “—somewhere less healthy. Like a bar.”

“Or a restaurant,” he offered. “Why don't I come pick you up at your place after closing? Say nine or so. You must live nearby….”

“You know what, why don't I meet you here?” I replied, a sudden image of us pleasantly entwined in the nondairy section filling my mind. Besides, I didn't him want him to catch a glimpse of my hovel too soon. Or, worse, run into Beatrice and get the lowdown on her digestive problems. I liked to save that stuff for later, once I had hooked a man with my charm.

“See you here at nine on Saturday then,” he said.

“Sure. See you then,” I said coolly, as I turned and walked out the door, my insides trembling so hard I thought I would shatter into a million pieces.

Oh God. I had a date. With the most beautiful man I had ever seen. The most beautiful man I had ever hoped to seduce.

Catching a glimpse of my gorgeous new reflection in a storefront on my way home, I realized I was a changed woman. A woman who knew what she wanted and wasn't afraid to go for it. Maybe it was the hair.

Or maybe it was just…about time.

 

Confession: I discover something even more satisfying than sex.

 

I spent the next week preparing for my big seduction scene.

“Are you sure you want to just
sleep
with him?”

This from Jade, who, oddly enough, immediately shot down my proposed plan when I called her to apprise her of my cute boy coup. “What else am I going to do with him? The guy peddles ice-cream substitute, for crissakes.”

“You are
such
a snob,” she countered.

“To quote you, before you began spending your Saturday nights baking pies for Ted—”

“I baked one pie! As an experiment,” she protested. “Ted likes pie and…and I wanted to see if my oven still worked—”

“As I was saying, I'm simply using the justification you used when you turned poor Enrico into a sex toy. Griffin is
not
my type. Yes, he's hot. Yes, he has a day job—of sorts. But what could we possibly have in common?”

“He could be an artist of some sort and he's just doing this to pay the bills,” Jade argued.

“Even Derrick wouldn't sink so low as to be a counter boy in a veggie store. It just doesn't pay enough to support any sort of dream, artistic or otherwise. Griffin is probably one of those granola types who does it just because he feels he's serving some kind of purpose for Mother Earth.”

“What's wrong with a guy like that?”

“Jade—”

“Okay, okay,” she said. “Just be careful, all right? Remember how you felt after you slept with Max and didn't hear from him.”

Though the reminder caused a plunging feeling in my stomach, I persevered. “This is different. When I went out with Max, I was looking for a relationship. Now all I want is sex. And I intend to get it.”

“My, my, Emma, I never thought I'd hear
you
say those words,” Jade said, a smile in her voice.

“Yeah, well, it's the new me.”

“That's fine,” Jade said. “Just remind the ‘new you' to bring some condoms.”

“Yeah, yeah,” I replied, as if I were an old hand at this.

But in truth, as I purchased condoms from the smirking salesclerk at Duane Reade—a traumatic situation in itself—and later slid
them into my purse as I readied myself to leave the house on Saturday night, I'd never felt so nervous. Exhilarated, too, but that only seemed to make my quivering stomach more prone to pole-vaulting.

I glanced into the mirror for courage. I had to admit, I looked pretty damn good. I had opted for a black skirt and deep khaki green camisole ensemble, as a concession to the August heat but also because I wasn't taking any chances. I wanted Griffin to want me. And with my soft, sun-streaked hair and Midnight Plunder-tinted lips, I felt ready to do battle. The silky red bra and panties I wore beneath my outfit bolstered me further as I slid on my mules, picked up my bag and headed to Heavenly Dee-lites for something I hoped would be even more gratifying than a whole freezer case full of Double Mocha Chip.

He was waiting outside for me, freshly showered and dressed in a dark brushed cotton T-shirt and what looked like a pair of those high-tech fabric trousers Jade claimed were all the rage and I knew to be very expensive. And if this didn't make me wonder, the magazine he read, as he sat comfortably on the little bench out front of the store, did.
Advertising Age
wasn't usually the preferred reading of the vegan set, or the type of thing a man who spent his Saturday nights fetching and selling Skinny Scoop might enjoy.

I didn't have time to ponder these contradictions, though, because the moment Griffen looked up and saw me there, a pleased expression settling over his incredible features, all thoughts flew out of my head.

“Hey, Emma,” he greeted me, and next thing I knew he was before me, holding my two hands in his and looking at me as if he would eat me alive. Only he didn't. Not even a kiss, though I could see he wanted to—as if it were the most natural thing in the world for two complete strangers to do. But suddenly we didn't feel like strangers. And for a brief moment I looked into his thickly lashed eyes and saw something—someone—I felt I knew down to my very soul. I swallowed. Hard. Then a completely unexpected thought blew through my mind: Our child would have those eyes.

Oh God. I needed to get a grip. I glanced away and carefully disengaged my hands from Griffin's, laughing shakily. When I
looked up again, he was already picking up his magazine from the bench. As if nothing at all had just passed between us. Clearly I was out of my mind.

“Let me just put this inside and lock up,” he said, unchaining the bench from the storefront and effortlessly carrying it into the darkened store, along with the magazine I still wondered about.

When he came out front once more and locked the door behind him, I became curious about him again. How had he spiffed himself up so well, especially after a day of churning and serving Skinny Scoop?

“So I guess the store is, uh, equipped with a shower?” I inquired with a short laugh. “I mean, you seem to have no evidence of a hard day's work on your, uh, clothes,” I continued, eyeing his effortlessly casual yet clearly expensive outfit once more.

“My parents have an apartment not far from the store. I showered at their place,” he said matter-of-factly, then took my hand and started leading me down the street.