Livvy (33 page)

The chef nods quickly, and leaves the table. “What can I get you to drink?” the waitress asks. We all settle for the water that they’d already brought us.

“I just don’t understand the fascination,” I say to my friends. “I’m just like everyone else.”

“I beg to differ,” Jon says, finally loosening up. “If I wasn’t dating you, I might be peeking through the windows at you, too.”

“You would not. You have a million other things to do, things that interest you. I think all of these people just need hobbies. Something other than people-watching.”

“Excuse me,” a guy behind us says as he taps Jon on the shoulder. He’s our age, sitting alone at a table for two with three beer bottles in front of him. “This is an awkward situation, isn’t it? Isn’t he the dude she kissed?”

“Get a life,” I tell the rude patron in a Giants jersey and Mets cap.

Jon holds his stare. “I think your girlfriend would like you to turn back around and mind your own business.”

“I don’t have a girlfriend,” the guy says, squinting his eyes.

“No?” Jon asks as he turns back around. I look back at the guy, afraid he’ll try to provoke Jon. My boyfriend takes a drink of his water casually, watching Finn across the table cautiously. I look at him just in time to see him shake his head minutely, letting Jon know that the idiot behind him wasn’t going to try anything.

Finn catches me up on his family and tells us about school in Miami. He can’t say enough about how nice the weather is there, always warm and sunny. I can’t imagine a winter without snow, and although we rarely have white Christmases in New York, they are my favorite. There’s nothing prettier than colorful holiday lights glowing on pure, white snow.

“Excuse me,” a man in a suit says as he stands over our table. Jon sighs heavily, obviously wanting privacy.

“Yes?” I ask.

“I’m the manager, and we’re going to have to ask you to leave.”

“Why?” Finn asks, crossing his arms in front of his chest.

“The man behind you says you threatened him.”

“What?” Jon asks defensively. “Who?”

“You, Mr. Scott.”

“No, he didn’t!” I argue. “He wouldn’t mind his own business! If anyone should be asked to leave, it should be him!” Jon gets up, throwing the napkin down on the table, his patience worn thin. “Sit down,” I beg him.

“Do you really want to stay here? Is the food really worth this chaos? And this poor service?” Jon asks, standing about two inches taller than the manager and staring him in the eyes. The man takes a step back, clearly intimidated.

“Please don’t cause a scene, Mr. Scott.”

“I’m not,” he says plainly as the rest of us stand up. “We wouldn’t dream of staying in this place another minute.” He starts to walk through the tables and toward the door.

“My apologies, Miss Holland.”

“Save it,” I tell him angrily. “That asshole’s a liar,” I say loud enough for the guy at the table to hear. He’s kept his back to us the entire time. “And a coward.”

“Come on, Livvy,” Katrina says, taking me by the elbow and pulling me with her. Hearing a scuffle behind us, we both stop and see the manager holding back the other diner as he reaches for Finn.

“I’m going!” he says, finally following us with a smug expression. Jon waits with his back against the door until we catch up to him. He has to push his way through the swelling crowd, now even more curious after seeing us get thrown out of the restaurant. He gives the parking attendant our ticket and pulls me into his chest while we wait, shielding me from most of the cameras and onlookers.

“What’d you do, Finn?” Katrina asks.

“I flicked the guy’s cap off,” he laughs. “What a pussy.”

I stare out at the street with my ear against Jon’s chest, listening to his pounding heart. His fingers are firm in my scalp and on my neck, massaging me as if I’m the rigid one. I know this night has got him all wound up, and I feel bad that we couldn’t even have a quiet evening out. We’d both been looking forward to it.

He helps me into the car quickly before jogging to the driver side. Brazen paparazzi come right up to the car to snap pictures. I make sure they get nothing, though, keeping my head down and facing the center console. My tires squeal as Jon pulls away from the curb.

“Finn?” he asks, his voice strained.

“Yeah?”

“Please do not ever use Livvy’s name for reservations again. Got it?”

“Loud and clear,” my friend answers.

“And where’s the best place to get some good food to go?”

“Landon’s,” Finn says. “But it’s kinda pricey.”

“Perfect,” Jon responds. “You’re buying us dinner.” I smile, hearing Katrina laugh in the backseat.

After we finally get home and have dinner, the four of us decide to grab some blankets and hot chocolate and retreat to the rooftop. The night is clear, but the sky doesn’t look like it does back in New Haven. I miss the stars. Disappointed that we can’t see the celestial vision I’d become accustomed to, I choose one of the chaise lounges under the tent to sit in. Jon pushes the other next to mine, and lies down in it. Katrina and Finn sit in front of the fountain, taking turns making wishes with coins from Finn’s pocket.

Settling beneath two thick blankets, I drag my leg across Jon’s body and rest my head on his shoulder. He kisses the top of my head and sighs. When I look up at him, his eyes are closed. They’re squeezed shut, actually.

“Are you okay?”

He nods his head.

“I know tonight wasn’t what we’d planned,” I tell him. “It was supposed to be easy and fun, and I know it was stressful... I’m sorry.”

“Shhh,” he says, silencing me. “You shouldn’t apologize. You can’t help this.”

“I know, but I still feel bad.”

“I’ll be fine. It just heightens my anxiety when there are so many people around trying to get to you. I mean, you’re fully capable of taking care of yourself, but if anything happened to you while I was around, I wouldn’t forgive myself.”

“What’s going to happen?” I ask him.

“I don’t know. Nothing I even want to envision. It’s just so chaotic... so unpredictable. I don’t like feeling so out of control. I especially hate it when you’re with me.”

“I hate to say you need to get used to it, but you kind of do...” I speak softly, not wanting to fight with him, but needing him to understand the reality of my life.

“How long do you think it will be like this?” he asks.

I have no idea how to answer him. I’d just accepted it would probably always be like this since my parents still deal with it on some level every day. “Tonight was worse than most,” I start. “Dad knows people who can make reservations discreetly. There are people he trusts to help him navigate around without the entire city watching his every move. I can talk to him–”

“I don’t want him to think I can’t handle it.”

“He knows you can, Jon. It would just be easier with a little help. That’s all I’m saying.”

“Do you ever think about what life would be like outside of the city?”

“I live life outside of the city,” I remind him. “And I’ll admit, it’s kind of nice.”

He finally opens his eyes and looks at me with a glint of hope. “Would you consider living elsewhere?”

My heart sinks. Manhattan is my home. One of the things I love most about Jon is that he is a New Yorker, through and through, too. He’d always wanted to give back to the place that gave him so many opportunities. The thought of leaving scares me, because I don’t know him or myself outside of this great city.

“I know it sucked tonight, but we love it here,” I remind him. “We have plans for this place,” I say brightly. “We’re going to rule the city someday!” I tease him.

He laughs at my attempt at humor. “We could still work here and live elsewhere,” he suggests.

“You spent the summer in Utah. That has to be worse than New Haven. I mean, when you need breakfast at three in the morning, where do you go? Or if you want to see a band in concert, how many choices do you get in a night?”

“We hardly ever go to concerts,” he argues with my rationale. “And there are other things we could do at three in the morning.”

“You’re telling me you were never bored in Utah?”

“No, I was,” he admits. “I’m not saying we need to live in Utah... we could still be a short train ride away–”

“Why are we talking about this now? I have at least three and a half more years of college before we need to be deciding where we’re going to live. What we need to talk about is how we’re going to navigate this town while we’re still in it. Which could be short-term, or long-term. I don’t know. Look at where we are right now, Jon!” I plead with him. “This is the most incredible apartment overlooking the most beautiful park in the country surrounded by the most resilient people in the world. This isn’t that bad.”

“I guess.”

“It was a bad night. It’s not a bad city,” I remind him.

“You’re right,” he agrees. “And the night is young.”

“It is.” Together, we look across the roof to see Katrina and Finn cuddled together on a plush couch beneath one of the heaters. They’re laughing as they talk, truly seeming to be enjoying one another’s company. I hadn’t seen either of them this happy before.

“I think we may need to act fast if we want to be the first ones to make out on the rooftop,” Jon says seriously.

“I wish we’d come up here last night,” I tell him. “I wish we could be alone out here.”

“Me, too.” He rolls over so his body is now leaning over mine, and he kisses me slowly and seductively. “I don’t think they’ll bother us though. And they’re way over there.”

“I know, but...”

“If you’re quiet...”

“I have a hard time with that,” I remind him. He laughs as I feel his fingers climb up my skirt, making their way up my inner thigh. He watches me, anticipating my decision to stop him, but I don’t. I want to make him happy tonight. I want to make it up to him. I want to make him forget anything that happened before we found ourselves in each others’ arms on this rooftop.

My forearm brushes against his as I unfasten his jeans. I watch his eyes intently, wanting to see his expression change when my hand touches him. He blinks slowly once before a smile graces his lips.

“Guys?” Finn says from across the way. We both stop, staying motionless, silently admitting to our concealed activities. “We’re going to go watch some TV.”

“Cool,” I say loudly, not looking, not even opening my eyes.

“Knock before you come in,” Finn says. I listen for the rooftop door to open, then close again. I finally peer at Jon to see if I can tell what he’s thinking. I know what I’m thinking.

“If we want to be the first to make love tonight...” he says, not finishing his sentence with words. He pulls my hand away from him as he finds his wallet and sets it next to us on the lounge chair. When I realize he’s removing his pants, I help him.

“You’ll be cold,” I warn him.

“I’m already on fire,” he says. “The second you touched me...”

Still in his boxer briefs, he moves on top of me, pulling my loose skirt to my waist. Leaning up on one arm, he starts to move my leg to wrap around him. I save him the trouble, linking my feet at their ankles and holding his body tightly against mine. He fingers the string bikini while he glances at me mischievously.

“I like this,” he says.

“Thanks.” With one arm behind my neck and the other hand firmly gripping just below my ribcage, he moves against me slowly. I inhale a shaky breath, enjoying the feel of his body moving with mine.

I take off his glasses, setting them on a small table next to the chair. Holding his head to mine, my fingers entwined in his hair, I press my lips to his with purpose and need. We take turns exchanging light moans and short hums, causing our lips to vibrate. The feeling tickles, tingles like the rest of my body does.

Jon tugs at my panties, and I’m not sure what his goal is, but there’s a quick snap, and I realize what he’s done as his palm moves freely along my pelvis and below.

“You broke my panties?” I ask him with a laugh.

“I’m sorry,” he responds quickly. “Let me make it up to you.” He lifts his eyebrows as his fingers explore my body. “Seems like someone wants me,” he comments smugly.

“I do,” I whisper quickly, urging him to continue.

“This will have to do,” he says, making the placement of his fingers known. My breath hitches in my throat as a grateful smile forms across my lips.

“More,” I plead.

“What?”

“I want more.” I can’t hide the whining in my voice. I move my hands to his underwear and start to push them down.

“They’re inside,” he says, and his fingers move slowly, his actions deliberate and the sensations they cause overwhelming.

“I know, but–”

“My condoms,” he clarifies. “The condoms are inside. In your night stand.”

“Nooo...” I whimper.

“You like it like this,” he says, as if he has to remind me. “Sometimes I think you like it more.” He works to prove his point.

“It feels good... you know, sexually, but it’s not the same as when you’re... you know... making love to me. That feels good emotionally, too.”