“Love you, too.”
“And Tori? You’ll find a job soon.” The warmth in my best friend’s voice sends a wave of longing through me. I haven’t been here long enough to make any friends. I don’t count my four roommates I barely see, passing in the night like candy on a conveyor belt.
“Thanks,” I say, and hang up. After a deep breath, and a quick bat at the hair stuck to my face, I turn to face the door. Considering I’m nearly ten minutes late, I should probably high tail it inside, but something’s pulling at me—a gaze, coming from my right side.
My eyes strain sideways, chin following in a series of jagged movements. While meant to be inconspicuous, I come off as though my neck is mechanical. The thought’s interrupted by the lightest green eyes I’ve ever seen in my entire life. My heart catches in my throat as my vision takes the rest of him in.
His white button-down shirt, popped open enough to show off his massive chest, highlights his summer tan. His tapered waist accentuates his broad shoulders. He wears his hair, black as onyx, longer on top and shaved short on the sides. Standing with his hands in his pockets, he reminds me of a movie star, casual and cool, like every day is a photo opp.
He can’t be looking at me? I’m sweating like a pig on a spit.
My eyes widen as he takes a step in my direction. On instinct, I look away. My feet shuffle in the door's direction, but haltwhen I hear my name.
“Tori.” The low, husky voice is familiar yet foreign. The warm pressure of a hand on my wrist flicks my head in its direction. The gorgeous man smiles at me, and my head nearly rolls off of my body.
“Zaid?” My voice, a weak whisper. Unless this is a real-life case ofInvasion of the Body Snatchers,Zaid Zarin grew up to be one smoking hot man. A man I’ve promised my best friend on earth that I will not fall for.
God help me.
2
Zaid
Tori hasn’t changed a bit, other than she’s even more beautiful than I remember. The wind’s knocked from my lungs as she turns to face me, bee-stung lips painted red and slightly parted. Even the way she says my name drives me wild. Not much has changed. I’ve always wanted Tori Stephenson and seeing her here like this? I want her now even more than I did back then.
“It’s great to see you,” I say and lean in for a hug. She presses her soft body up against mine, slightly sticky with sweat. I drink in her smell, clean with a hint of musk. It’s the same perfume she’s worn since I’ve known her and it still drives me insane. “You look great.”
“You too,” she says. Her breath tickles my neck. When she pulls away, her amber eyes are wide, the same color as the gentle splash of freckles across the bridge of her upturned nose. “In fact, I didn’t even recognize you.”
“Thanks?” I say, squinting one eye.
“That’s not what I meant.” The back of her hand presses against her forehead. “You just look so…” Her eyes dance up and down my body. “Different.”
“I feel like that’s another way of saying you didn’t recognize me.”
“I guess you’re right.” Tori clears her throat. “What I meant to say was that you look amazing, Zaid.”
I can’t help but smile. She’s not the first person gob smacked by my New York City transformation. Hours at the gym, a healthy lifestyle, and the CEO’s income to support such habits have turned me into a new man—on the outside, at least. “Let’s go inside.”
I place my hand on the small of Tori’s back and lead her into the restaurant. The low hum of happy hour surrounds us. Dark and cozy, the air conditioner provides a welcome relief from the city’s summer hell. Once we’re inside, Tori tosses her shiny, copper hair over her shoulder. Her showstopper black dress and high heels make her appear like she’s been in the city for years, not days.
A woman greets us and shows us to our seat, a little leather banquette with a low table amidst the heart of the crowd. I extend my arm and Tori sits, crossing one smooth leg. The limited space causes us to sit close enough to touch. Did my subconscious pick this spot on purpose? Tori sits up straight, leaning forward just enough to show a hint of her gorgeous cleavage. As fast as I can, I avert my eyes and grab the skinny menu instead.
Tori follows suit, teeth gnashing into her bottom lip. “It’s small plates,” I say, reading her mind. “Which means we have to order a bunch of them.” Her sultry smile lights up the room, and I wonder what it would feel like to press my own lips against them. How sweet her mouth must taste, like strawberries and cream.
“Good. I won’t lie. I’m starving.”
“And I’m paying. So please, eat until you can’t take another bite.”
“No, Zaid. We’ll split it.”
My hand drops to her knee. Her eyes dart to mine. Electric currents ignite against my palm. I lean in closer so she can hear every word. Her soft hair brushes against my face. “Don’t be stubborn, Tori. Let me treat you. A ‘welcome to the city’ dinner.” Tori nods in agreement.
We make small talk until our drinks arrive, a Prosecco for her and a Perfect Manhattan straight up for me.How’s life? Where are you living? Do you like New York? Etc.
Normally I’m not into small talk, but I could listen to Tori all night. Hell she could even read me the drink menu and I’d be enthralled taking in the soft beauty of her round face, a unique angel in a sea of trend-sporting clones. The first two rounds go down smooth, and the conversation flows a little easier. Loose lips.
“What do you do, Zaid?” She squints her eyes in mock interest, putting on her best Barbara Walters hat.