What Love Looks Like by Lara Mondoux Page B

your opinion
on mutual funds.”
    “He was just
being friendly.”
    “You have no
clue how attractive you are, do you?”
    “Ryan, stop,” I
said, laughing. “Listen, did everything go smoothly in the kitchen?”
    “Of
course—it always does.” He winked.
    “Excellent.”
    “Hey, so, like,
are you allowed to, like, get a drink with us after work?” Ryan asked, mimicking
the shy financial adviser. I laughed and shook my head. He was incorrigible.
“I’m serious, though. Come out for a drink.”
    “I wish I could,
Ryan, but I’m beat.” And it was the truth. “I have to get up early and go to my
parents’ house tomorrow. My mother’s been bugging the shit out of me.”
    “Sure, I know.
Has nothing to do with the New York guy, right? I was just talking about a
casual drink with a friend, but I understand, you gotta do what you gotta do.
Have a great evening, Elle, and great work tonight.” He shook my hand and
walked out of the empty room.
    He was back to
being his cold, haughty self. Had I insulted him somehow? Maybe he was really
trying to extend the olive branch tonight and my rejection offended him? I’d
make a point of bringing him a coffee or something else thoughtful in next week
or two.
    I exited from
the back of the restaurant, stepping out onto the stony pavement in the rear
lot. I walked past the dumpster as well as a few of the kitchen guys smoking,
probably marijuana, on the bench that overlooked the highway. It was a cool
night, but not intolerable. The entrance of my apartment was a stone’s throw
from the rear of the restaurant. As it was the weekend, the city streets were
full of life. Separate groups of men and women were on their way out to the
clubs. The sushi restaurant across from East Coast Prime had a massive line
just to get in. I knew the owner there well from my days of promoting liquor
brands. He was a cokehead who thrived on late nights and scantily clad girls. I
knew he’d let me in the back door if I wanted to go in, but I didn’t. I was
exhausted.
      Mynt, the club next to the sushi place,
was also packed with people. I could see about a half a mile north onto High
Street, and it was teeming with people, young and old, out enjoying their
nights. But I wasn’t one of them. Bar after restaurant after bar was filled
with people: straight, gay, black, and white. They were all there for the same
reason, to seek out pleasure. I saw a few couples on dates, walking hand in
hand, and envy surged through me. Even if Jay and I worked out and this “thing”
developed into a real relationship, there was still the problem of the physical
distance between us. Everything always had a catch, and so few things had ever
happened effortlessly for me. It was as if the universe was always testing me
to see what I could handle.
    Outside my
apartment window, I could see all the action on the street. A streetlight was
almost directly outside, which I didn’t mind terribly because it reminded me
that I was living somewhere that had some life to it . My building was right at the entrance of the Arts District, and
the massive marquee directly outside my bedroom window indicated such to
visitors. It was a flourishing neighborhood to live in, and at times I felt
lucky to be there. But I almost never got to enjoy all that it had to offer.
    Within seconds,
a drowsy Luna excitedly jumped up on me several times before I picked her up
and gave her a big hug. Instead of feeling sorry for myself, I remembered that
I could have been amid all the action. Both the financial adviser and Ryan had propositioned me, but I’d
elected to go home and be alone.
    But I was making
sacrifices for Jay already, and I didn’t even have any sort of commitment from
him. He’d made a mere mention of sexual obsession, which in modern times hardly
constituted monogamy. Maybe we were ready for “the talk.” Sure, it was sudden; we’d only been on one official date
and had sex one time. Butwe
communicated every single day,