“Please relax,” Ian whispered from behind her. “I have a solution.”
Hazel sat up and cocked her head. Did he want to talk about their relationship? “What is that?”
“I have a trip out of town next week. I think you ought to come with me. For your education. For the book.” Ian touched the back of her neck lightly. He was always doing that lately, finding little ways to touch her without being noticeable. It was both irritating and exciting. And it was what had led to them leaving a meeting to go fuck in a bathroom.
“Wait, that’s it? You just want to go out of town?”
“No. I am going out of town. I want you to come with me. You aren’t obligated. I know that you’d have to clear your schedule and alert your teachers. I could send them an email, if you liked, explaining why you’ll be absent.”
Hazel thought about that. She imagined her Women and Gender Studies teacher reading an email about how Ian wanted to take her out of town so they could have sex without any prying eyes. He would never, but that would be the truth.
“I can tell them. I’ve not missed any classes so far so I could miss a few days. I think. Let me talk to my Poli-Sci teacher first. I think my Grant Writing prof won’t care, since we’re just gearing up for our final paper.”
Hazel knew what she’d do. She’d known before he mentioned her other classes. And just like all of her other excuses and promises regarding their relationship, she knew it would all boil down to doing whatever it took to spend more time with Ian. She was beyond just wanting his approval now. She’d gotten that.
Now, she was afraid of losing him. And she was afraid there might not be a limit to what she’d do to keep him with her.
***
“We’ll check in at the hotel first so we can both get cleaned up,” Ian said as Hazel scooted into the back seat with him. “Then, since we don’t have meetings until tomorrow, I’d thought you might like to go out. I made a couple of reservations… So we have options, depending on what you’d prefer.”
“A couple of reservations?”
“We could go to the theatre or the Museum of Modern Art.”
“I don’t think you need a reservation for a museum.”
“No, but you do need tickets.” Ian leaned forward to give instructions to their driver, then sat back and put his hand on Hazel’s knee. He was so grateful that she had said yes to his offer. “I realize that other than your political and academic interests, I don’t know much about you. What do you do with your downtime?”
“I don’t have a lot of downtime.” Hazel peered out the window at the tall buildings.
“But if you did… Do you go to see movies? What kind of music do you enjoy?” Ian scooted closer to her.
Hazel looked at him curiously, then replied, “I don’t go to see movies. I can’t stand theatres—too loud. Same with clubs and concerts, although I do enjoy live music in small venues. Um…” Hazel took a deep breath. “I’ve always wanted to go to Strand.”
“Is that a restaurant?”
“It’s a bookstore.” Hazel smiled at Ian’s confused look. “We don’t have to go. But if we’re talking about things I’d like to do in New York, that would be at the top of my list. Also, the Butterfly Conservatory, or the zoo?”
Ian took her hand. “Of course, you love animals.”
“I’m not some Disney princess. I just like to watch them. You know, when they’re well cared for.”
“Okay, noted. What kind of music do you listen to?”
Ian continued to grill her for the rest of the car ride. Although this trip was for business primarily, he had not yet been able to show Hazel the kind of attention that he normally gave to women he dated. So far, their nights had been spent in the office or his penthouse, and their interactions in public restricted. Here, they could do what they wanted, within reason.
Thus, if what Hazel wanted was to go to some bookstore, then that was where Ian would take her.
After they’d checked into their rooms (joined, but technically separate as a cover), he encouraged her to go freshen up and change. He did so himself, quickly, then called around to solidify their plans. Hazel reappeared in a long-sleeved, burgundy lace dress with cream colored leggings underneath. She carried a sweater on her arm and had styled her hair with the top up, but the rest falling around her shoulders in loose curls.
Ian had never seen her looking so soft. Not while she was awake, anyway. He’d seen her in the messy disarray of a student, and the crisp confidence of a businesswoman, and the utter collapse of exams, but never this gentle femininity. He reached for her hand, and she took his with a smile.