turned, leading the way out of what seemed like an Ikea aisle dedicated to LSD. We walked down the concrete steps, the air in the stairway felt heavy, and we only occasionally brushed hands together.
Accidentally of course.
“So where are you from?” I asked.
“Both my parents are Brazilian.” Well, that explained the hotness. “But I was born in San Diego.”
“Oh nice! I love going down there,” I said, having flashbacks of going down there and visiting the zoo, Connor always making my family stop there whenever we were in town.
“Yeah, it’s beautiful,” he said, the accent making everything he said sound so much smoother. It had such a disarming effect and made me have to focus really hard on what he was saying instead of how attractive he was.
“So you’re not too far from your family then?”
“No, it was one of the reasons why I didn’t just move to New York, figured I should stick around for a little bit.” His hand gripped the railing, rusted underneath his strong fingers.
“Makes sense, so you're close to your family?”
“Mom mostly,” he said, his tone letting me know that his father was out of the picture.
“What’s she think of you coming out here and becoming a famous musician?”
“She supports me, always said I had something special since I was old enough to touch a guitar.”
I looked over at him, his eyes glowing at just the mention of the guitar. It made me fluttery again, thinking of how passionate he was about his music. It made me think about how much passion he had to give to someone.
“Well, now you’re really going to have to play something for me,” I said, reaching the bottom of the steps and walking out into the sunlight.
“So you mean you didn’t want to hear me earlier?”
“No it’s not that. I just definitely can’t pass it by with those glowing reviews,” I said, this time taking the lead as my nose directed us to the best smelling hot dogs. They were the types that were grilled on the street, letting the meaty aroma fill the plaza outside of the building.
“How ‘bout you?”
“Can I play? ” I grabbed a hot dog bun and loaded it up shamelessly, some onions falling to a toppings graveyard on the floor.
“No, I meant where are you from? Don’t worry, I already know I’m going to teach you how to play the piano,” he said, smiling as we walked over to a nearby bench.
“Oh, yeah,” I said, my heart skipping a beat as he mentioned our piano lesson. The thought of spending more time with Alexander had me so high up in the air that I had almost forgotten that I was pregnant.
Almost.
My hand moved up to my midriff and smoothed out a wrinkle, one that was pretty much unnoticeable on my black shirt. I lingered there for a second and then returned my attention back to the hotdog that was on my lap and the hot guy that was on my right.
“So?” he asked, taking a sip from his soda.
And then I was brought back to Alexander, his blue eyes staring at me with such intensity, like nothing else mattered in this world but my answer. Such a stark contrast compared to Blake’s empty television prepped gaze, a certain sheen to his pupils that made him seem slimy.
Untrustworthy.
But then again, my perspective on him was more than tarnished now.
“My parents are both from San Fran, born and raised. They met there when they ended up in the same law school,” I said, finding myself getting lost in those eyes.
He stared back, a curl at the side of his lip creating a smoldering side smirk.
“San Francisco was a good place to me,” he said, recalling something that was clearly still ingrained in his memory. I wanted to know what sparked that fire in him.
So I asked. “How so?”
“I played my first paying gig there. I wasted the money in gas but it was incredible.” His smirk grew into a full smile, perfect teeth gleaming in the sun, those dimples and they way his eyes scrunched up.
It all added up to construct the
Accidentally of course.
“So where are you from?” I asked.
“Both my parents are Brazilian.” Well, that explained the hotness. “But I was born in San Diego.”
“Oh nice! I love going down there,” I said, having flashbacks of going down there and visiting the zoo, Connor always making my family stop there whenever we were in town.
“Yeah, it’s beautiful,” he said, the accent making everything he said sound so much smoother. It had such a disarming effect and made me have to focus really hard on what he was saying instead of how attractive he was.
“So you’re not too far from your family then?”
“No, it was one of the reasons why I didn’t just move to New York, figured I should stick around for a little bit.” His hand gripped the railing, rusted underneath his strong fingers.
“Makes sense, so you're close to your family?”
“Mom mostly,” he said, his tone letting me know that his father was out of the picture.
“What’s she think of you coming out here and becoming a famous musician?”
“She supports me, always said I had something special since I was old enough to touch a guitar.”
I looked over at him, his eyes glowing at just the mention of the guitar. It made me fluttery again, thinking of how passionate he was about his music. It made me think about how much passion he had to give to someone.
“Well, now you’re really going to have to play something for me,” I said, reaching the bottom of the steps and walking out into the sunlight.
“So you mean you didn’t want to hear me earlier?”
“No it’s not that. I just definitely can’t pass it by with those glowing reviews,” I said, this time taking the lead as my nose directed us to the best smelling hot dogs. They were the types that were grilled on the street, letting the meaty aroma fill the plaza outside of the building.
“How ‘bout you?”
“Can I play? ” I grabbed a hot dog bun and loaded it up shamelessly, some onions falling to a toppings graveyard on the floor.
“No, I meant where are you from? Don’t worry, I already know I’m going to teach you how to play the piano,” he said, smiling as we walked over to a nearby bench.
“Oh, yeah,” I said, my heart skipping a beat as he mentioned our piano lesson. The thought of spending more time with Alexander had me so high up in the air that I had almost forgotten that I was pregnant.
Almost.
My hand moved up to my midriff and smoothed out a wrinkle, one that was pretty much unnoticeable on my black shirt. I lingered there for a second and then returned my attention back to the hotdog that was on my lap and the hot guy that was on my right.
“So?” he asked, taking a sip from his soda.
And then I was brought back to Alexander, his blue eyes staring at me with such intensity, like nothing else mattered in this world but my answer. Such a stark contrast compared to Blake’s empty television prepped gaze, a certain sheen to his pupils that made him seem slimy.
Untrustworthy.
But then again, my perspective on him was more than tarnished now.
“My parents are both from San Fran, born and raised. They met there when they ended up in the same law school,” I said, finding myself getting lost in those eyes.
He stared back, a curl at the side of his lip creating a smoldering side smirk.
“San Francisco was a good place to me,” he said, recalling something that was clearly still ingrained in his memory. I wanted to know what sparked that fire in him.
So I asked. “How so?”
“I played my first paying gig there. I wasted the money in gas but it was incredible.” His smirk grew into a full smile, perfect teeth gleaming in the sun, those dimples and they way his eyes scrunched up.
It all added up to construct the
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