What Happens to Men When They Move to Manhattan?. Jill Knapp

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СКАЧАТЬ I am going to spend some time living with the locals.”

      “Are you going for your job?” he asked.

      “No, nothing like that,” I shrugged. “I’ve just always wanted to go there; it just looks so beautiful. I spent all of last summer working as a receptionist so I could save enough money to buy a plane ticket.”

      “Very ambitious, Amalia. What does your boyfriend have to say about that?” Alex asked, challenging me.

      “Nothing. He feels fine,” I shot back.

      No need to go into details, to explain Nicholas and I had gotten into a small argument that morning over the length of time I was going to be away. Our minor argument was none of Alex’s business, and also I didn’t want Michael to think Nick and I had any problems at all.

      “Well, I could use a smoke,” Olivia said to Alex, attempting to break the tension. “Care to join me?” She could tell I was getting annoyed by him and gave me a small smile. He nodded and stood up, motioning for her to walk in front of him. As obnoxious as he was, he had good manners. I was relieved to have the questions stop, and also to be alone with Michael. I noticed once again how well put together he looked and wondered how he looked when at home, alone, with no one to impress.

      “Hey, listen sorry I skipped out last night with just a note,” he leaned closer over the table.

      His cologne smelled very masculine, like deep sandalwood and a touch of something else I couldn’t quite put my finger on. He leaned back in his chair and laughed. “It’s just that, you looked so peaceful, I didn’t want to wake you.”

      “Yeah, um, don’t worry about it,” I muttered nervously. I tucked a stray curl behind my ear and sat up a little straighter. “I’m just embarrassed I fell asleep!”

      I was definitely more disappointed than embarrassed, having wasted my time with him unconscious. After I ran into him on the street two nights ago, Michael had come back to my apartment to talk. After opening a bottle of Pinot and pouring us both two oversized glasses, I asked him what was bothering him.

      “I’d actually rather not discuss it,” he said. “Is it alright if we just sit here?”

      I wasn’t quite sure what to say. Our reason for being at my place alone was gone, and I felt even more awkward than before.

      “Yeah, sure,” I replied, noticeably confused by the request. “Anything to help.”

      The night was, as I told the girls, uneventful. After we finished the wine, we sat and talked about school, applying for internships, and what our lives were like before we moved to New York. Apparently I had been so exhausted that I fell asleep on the couch while we were watching The Daily Show.

      I woke up the next morning, still on the couch, with a throw blanket around me and a note on the coffee table that read, “Thanks for the company, see you in class.”

      My assumption was right, that Michael had left right after I fell asleep. I looked around and noticed the bar was emptying out. Now this was more like it, no fighting over the bartenders tonight.

      “So, um, how’s Marge doing?” I asked, and then immediately regretted the words.

      He seemed a little taken back by the question. The only information I had on Michael’s girlfriend was her name, and the fact that she was two years younger. Since she was still in college, a senior at Arizona State, they only saw each other once every month or two.

      “She’s doing fine. I spoke to her earlier today on the phone, but it’s not the same,” he said. “Long-distance relationships are hard. Even harder when you’re older. I mean, I’m not an undergrad any more.”

      I looked at him surprised. I wasn’t expecting such a detailed answer.

      “Anyway, isn’t your birthday coming up? Twenty-three right? Getting old,” he said playfully, obviously changing the subject.

      I played along.

      “Yeah, next week,” I mumbled. “Don’t remind me.”

      “Ha, not a birthday person?” he asked, looking amused, and gave me a poke on the shoulder.

      “No, actually I’m not. Does it matter?” I answered, now laughing myself. “You’re all going to make me do something lame anyway!”

      “No way! We’re going to have fun,” he motioned to the bartender.

      I cocked my head to the side and said, “Michael, every time you say we’re going to have fun, we end up drunk, completely broke, and lost in neighborhoods no one should ever be lost in.”

      “Yes, Amalia,” he smiled at me, flashing every one of his perfectly straight teeth. “That is how I define fun.”

       Chapter 6

       It’s my birthday, and I’ll do what I want to

      I looked around Cassandra’s spacious two-bedroom apartment crowded with about twenty of my closest friends. The place was filled with pink and white balloons, plastic martini glasses, and paper decorations including a custom banner that read “Happy Birthday Amalia!”

      I thought back to when she and Nicholas had asked me what I wanted to do for my birthday when we were hanging out last week.

      “Just a dinner with the two of you, Olivia, and Christina,” I replied. “Nothing too fancy, maybe Max Brenner? Or even somewhere in Little Italy would be perfect. You know, something simple.”

      My input, however, had been clearly ignored. Lured to Cassie’s place under the false pretenses of going to said “low key” dinner, I nearly had a heart attack when the energetic guests of my clandestinely planned surprise party jumped out at me.

      “Surprise!” everyone yelled in unison.

      “What the hell! The two of you are in so much trouble!” I said as I caught my breath. I leaned over the couch, pretending they had given me a heart attack.

      “Were you surprised, honey?” Nicholas asked with a sinister smirk on his face.

      “Yeah, I mean I thought we were having a small, intimate dinner?”

      He leaned in for a kiss and I turned away, playfully pretending to be too annoyed for affection. A few seconds later, I was bombarded with drink offers and birthday wishes.

      “Happy Birthday, Hastings,” said Alex as he handed me a glass of champagne.

      “Twenty-three!” Olivia enthusiastically threw her arms around me. “It’s about time!”

      Since my birthday was at the beginning of October, I was the last of my friends to have a birthday this year. I had been teased by friends for being the youngest essentially my whole life.

      “The food is delicious, СКАЧАТЬ