I opened the door and there she was, wearing her pajamas and surrounded by untouched room service. Cake, cookies, pie and two full glasses of milk.
WOW…best friend ever.
James followed cautiously behind me.
“Laura, I’d like you to meet James.” She rose from her bed and shook his hand, as I ripped off my coat and scarf. Why was it so hot in here? I was getting all sticky but why? It’s not like any action was in the cards for this evening…no matter how much I may have tried.
“What a surprise to meet you James! And here I am in my PJ’s.” Laura turned to me and scowled. Oops.
“Pleasure to meet you Laura. And I’d just like to thank you for accompanying Romi to New York. You must be a great friend.” He smiled.
“Are you kidding? I came for the Christmas shopping!” She pointed to the back of the room, which was now lined with shopping bags.
“Well Laura,” he began, “I’m sorry to just say ‘hello’ and run, but I do have a flight to catch.”
“No worries at all, it was great to meet you!” She smiled and waved as he moved ever closer to the door.
“I’ll walk you out.” I closed the door behind us, the pit in my stomach now punching me over and over.
He turned right instead of left as I stood there puzzled.
“Uh, James, the elevator’s THAT way.” I pointed to the elevators far down the hall.
“I know that. Come here for a second.”
I followed him to the other end of the corridor, where a little windowed alcove offered up a lovely view.
We both looked down at New York City laid out before us, the lights in true dazzling form.
“I just wanted to look at the city as it falls asleep,” he said softly, standing behind me with his hands resting on my shoulders.
It was happening again, the hurried wave of tears building up. Why was it impossible to stop it? Were all girls like this or only me? Maybe it was me, as growing up I’d weep just from losing at a game of checkers.
I wiped my eyes and tried to act normal.
We continued to stare out the window for a while, then I suddenly broke the silence. “But it doesn’t sleep.”
“What’s that?” he said, grabbing my hand, and turning me towards him.
“You said you wanted to watch the city fall asleep, but New York is the city that never sleeps…so you’ll be standing here for a while.” I managed to smile.
“In that case I’ll probably miss my flight.” We were both smiling now, and I only wished this moment wouldn’t end.
“I had a great time today Roms. Maybe next time we will do it in Barcelona or London or wherever.”
I nodded with my eyes to the ground, not wanting to say something stupid.
“Hey, look at me.”
Shit! Can’t you just let me look at the ground?
I didn’t comply, so he lifted my chin instead. “Don’t be upset.”
“I’m not. This is how I act when I’m happy, remember?”
We both laughed. It made things a little easier. “No you’re right though,” I said, as his hands rested comfortably on my lower back, while mine began to play with the buttons on his shirt. “There’s nothing to be upset about.”
“There isn’t.” He smiled.
“I know. I just said that. Stop repeating me.” We laughed again. “No but really, if my brain actually starts to function again, I can see there is nothing sad about this moment.” I was actually starting to believe it now. “Getting to meet you was a pretty damn amazing Christmas present.”
“For me as well. Much better than a copy of ‘Export to Ecstasy.’“ He tried not to laugh, but was failing pretty terribly.
“Shut up! I put a lot of thought into that you know.”
“I’m only teasing. It was actually very nice. Though odd.” He dropped his forehead ‘till it landed on mine. I never thought his eyes staring straight into mine would make me lose all sense of his hands on my back, but they did. His stare was more powerful.
Even though our eyes were as close as they could possibly get, I felt like they were somehow getting closer. I felt like I might stumble into those bright blue pools and I must’ve, because a second later everything went dark as his lips brushed mine. Somewhere in the distance fireworks went off in my head and I melted like a tub of Ben & Jerry’s in his arms. Don’t stop, don’t stop, don’t stop!
I LOVE NEW YORK!
When he finally pulled away, I was left hanging somewhere in the air between New York City and London.
If that’s how long a simple kiss lasts with him, what could it possibly be like to---
I didn’t let myself even finish the thought. I would’ve melted in a puddle if I had. And nobody needs to find that in a hotel corridor.
He smiled as I tried to catch my breath, his face still inches from mine.
“See?” I said, my voice a little breathless. “We caught up on all the senses. Even taste.”
“I guess we did,” he said softly, his smile now warming my face.
“Why does this moment have to end though? Can’t it just stay like this forever?”
“On the fifteenth floor of a hotel in New York you mean?”
I laughed out loud and pushed him playfully. He stood there smiling.
“You know what I mean.”
He looked at his watch again.
“Time is not ours anymore, I had better go. Sorry.”
“Do you want me to walk you to the elevator?” I asked, as we made our way back to my room.
“If you walk me to the elevator, I’ll have to walk you back to your room. Because I’m not going to leave until I walk you to your room. And then we’ll play this game all night.” He kissed my forehead.
“But I like this game. It’s the game where you never leave.” I smiled and shrugged my shoulders innocently.
“Goodbye Roms,” he said, his blue eyes working their magic.
“It’s Romes,” I said smiling.
“I know.” He returned the smile.
“Bye James.”
He kissed me lightly on the cheek and walked up the hallway towards the elevators, before turning one last time for a smile.
“Barcelona is just a flight away!” he called out.
I could only stand and stare, happy for how far we’d come today, but my heart being crushed by the sight of him leaving.
I died a little as one of the elevators opened. He waved and mouthed the words “See you soon!”
And then he was gone.
I knocked on the door and Laura opened it to find me sobbing.
Well that was inevitable.
She led me inside and sat me on my bed.
“You can be sad if you want,” she said. “But what I really want to know is…did he kiss you?”
Laura: my friend, my kindred spirit, the girl who always knows just the right thing to say...
Chapter Twenty-Eight
I groaned and turned to face the clock.
Noon.
And I was still exhausted.
Laura and I had stayed up ‘till three a.m. talking. And eating of course. My stomach grumbled in displeasure.
I remembered drifting off last night, entirely convinced that my dreams would be consumed by James. It was the only response to having spent so much time with him.
Instead I had a dream that I was captured by a three-eyed demon, and hung from a tree until feasting time. It was something out of “Lord of the Rings”, but at least I woke up before being devoured limb by limb.
Romantic.
“Good morning sunshine.” Laura smiled and stared at me from her bed.
I yawned. “Good morning back.”
“So how are you feeling?”
“Well, James is not on the continent anymore so my life is basically screwed. I feel great!” I laughed.
“But it’s our last full day in New York. What do you wanna do?”
Intelligent Laura, always knowin
g when to change the subject.
I’d forgotten I still had a whole entire day in New York City. Maybe it was just what I needed. “How about this,” I said. “Sleep for another couple hours, go out to eat, go shopping, a nice big dinner…”
“And a fancy dessert with whipped cream?” she asked.
“Sure, why not? After last night my diet’s shot anyway.”
She laughed. “Great! So let’s get ourselves that sleep then.” She yawned. “Good night.”
“Good night my friend. I’m gonna buy you a car, you know. ‘Cause you’re awesome.” I mumbled something else that was inaudible, and drifted right back to sleep…
***
“But you said I could have the window seat!” The child started screaming and wouldn’t stop, not until his mother made his older sister switch. The girl was only seven or eight, but her face looked like a wrinkled old man when it contorted into screaming position, missing teeth and all.
I felt a little bad for the mother, but I also wanted to smack her little brats in the teeth. Will I ever grow maternal instincts?
“Don’t worry,” whispered Laura. “The flight is only an hour and a half.”
Thank god.
I put on my seatbelt as we readied for take-off, and before too long my gaze settled out the window to a view of the tarmac.
“Huh,” I said.
Laura followed my gaze. “What is it?”
“I was thinking about how Manhattan’s so close but I can’t even see it anymore. And it made me realize...I can’t see what I can’t see.”
Laura scrunched her eyebrows. “Have you been reading proverbs behind my back?”
I laughed. “No I’ve just been thinking how all I could ever focus on were the things I couldn’t see; twelve months from now...or two months from now if I’d still be talking to James...or obsessing over a future October if James was going to visit...the things I was blind to were the only things I cared about.”
“So what do you care about now?”
I smiled. “Eating the leftover cookies from the minibar.” I pulled two saran-wrapped cookies out of my purse. “Want one?”
“Well technically we’re still on vacation.” She put out her hand.
We munched on the cookies in a sucrose bliss, as I thought about how good food and true friends were the solid base, while captivating foreign men were just the icing on the cake...
The End
(until book 2 ...)
NOTE FROM THE AUTHOR:
Dear Reader,
Thank you for reading “Year of the Chick,” I hope you enjoyed it and had some laughs. This book was inspired by a blog of the same name I wrote in 2008. It’s a fictional tale, but it’s amazing how the elements of reality can trickle their way into fiction (especially the embarrassing ones).
I would normally take this time to tell you what I’m working on next, but that “next project” is already available now, in the form of a “Year of the Chick” sequel entitled “Last-Minute Love”!
I wrote the sequel two years after writing book one, and I would definitely say there’s more romance in book number two (but I still tried to keep my style of humor!). And so, whether you loved “Year of the Chick” or were barely lukewarm towards the story, I hope you’ll give the sequel a try.
To help begin your journey with the sequel, I’ve included Chapter One of “Last-Minute Love” below (followed by the “Acknowledgements” section).
Overall, thank you for downloading and reading this book. Exposure always helps us authors, and I really do appreciate it!
Romi
Ways to connect:
-Review or rating on e-book store site or Goodreads
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-Twitter: https://twitter.com/romimoondi
-My crazy blog: https://romimoondi.wordpress.com
-Email:
[email protected] -Subscribe to my free monthly newsletter Click here!
“Last-Minute Love:” in book two the saga of “awkward moments mixed with romance” continues. Here you’ll find more culture clash and adventure than ever before. There’s a big fat Indian wedding, a lingering long-distance flame, and an unexpected mystery man who could set a new course in motion. Chapter One is available below, and you can find the full book at any e-book retailer!
Chapter One of “Last-Minute Love”
A woman in a studded collar, leather bikini, and fishnet stockings stared at me from behind the glass.
Luckily she was only a mannequin, dressed in the finest gear this Toronto sex shop had to offer.
I turned my attention back to avoiding puddles, as I hurried my way up Yonge Street. This seemingly never-ending street began at Lake Ontario and ended a few towns later, but the twenty-minute patch between the touristy Dundas Square and swanky Bloor Street was something you’d describe as...eclectic. At least that’s what a tourist magazine might call it. I’d call it borderline insane.
It’s not that I was too uptight to be seen around a sex shop (yeah right...I’ll go with sweet tender “lovemaking” with the lights OFF, thank you very much), it’s that it wasn’t consistently-themed as a “sex neighbourhood.” It was an “everything neighbourhood.”
Intimidating Scientology center.
Tattoo parlour.
Hole-in-the-wall nail salon.
Jewellery store.
Sex shop.
Dollar Bonanza.
Pretentious book store that only carries leather-bound titles.
McDonald’s.
It was Toronto with multiple-personality disorder, and it definitely made our city...unique. The people were a perfect match, as even now at eleven a.m., there was a little bit of everything here. From precious old ladies in cute wool hats, to sullen teenage girls who’d traded high school for the cautionary life (short denim skirts and last night’s eyeliner were the dead giveaways). As for me, the casually-dressed Indian girl with long hair hanging freely, I didn’t really belong to this late-morning crowd. With jeans, tall boots, a flowing scarf and layered tops, you would instantly mistake me for a wannabe writer. As a matter of fact that’s exactly what I was, but on a full-time basis I belonged to the cubicle tribe, where all its members were hard at work making millions for “the man.” I’d be back to that soon enough, but today was my chance to escape.
Today was my twenty-ninth birthday.
A grey April morning wasn’t really helping me celebrate, but at least the rain had stopped, leaving a cool damp air in its wake.
And puddles.
I skipped over this latest one and continued on, as the normalized world of over-priced shopping and expensive eateries slowly came into view. I was a mere two blocks from Bloor Street now, with Toronto’s trendy Yorkville up ahead. There was something about being around rich people who didn’t have jobs that inspired my writing. I never even ended up writing about them in detail, but somehow they were word-count triggers. Maybe the expensive perfume was a hallucinogen.
Before I could start envisioning a steaming latte and the perfect window seat, I realized I’d let my guard down for a moment too long. The attractive young man with the clipboard now had me in his sights, and idiot that I was, I hadn’t even bothered to grab my phone to pretend I was busy.
“Nice boots,” he said, with the slightest air of seduction. It was just enough to make me blush thereby acknowledging his existence. Dammit.
I nodded and hurried past him. But of course it wasn’t over.
He quickened his pace and caught up in seconds. “I’ve got a question for you: do you think panda bears are cute?”
This was a classic trick question of the clipboard-wielding solicitor. If I said “no” he would accuse me of hating all endangered species, and if I said “yes” he’d have me signing donation forms in the middle of the street within seconds.
“I’m sorry but I’m really busy,” I said, gazing at
the ground to avoid any chance of eye-contact (the last thing I needed was to humanize the volunteer).
An elderly couple coming from the opposite direction were suddenly in his way. It was an anti-charity gift from above, and I gave my thanks by speed-walking the hell away. It’s not that I didn’t respect the hard work of volunteers, but what about the freedom of choice? I contributed to charities now and then, but I did so after hearing about them in related conversation, or from searches I’d done online. Then I’d do my little background checks to find out where the money really went. Like buying an actual fruit tree for an African village? It’s a tree and it’s going in the ground, I support this!
Lost in my troubled thoughts about charitable entrapment, I heard the distinct sound of footsteps hitting the pavement in a sprint.
The next thing I knew the cute volunteer (now looking a bit sweaty) was staring me in the face.
My jaw dropped, and then quickly re-formed into a scowl. “Excuse me, but you can’t just chase people in the street when they have places to be. Like you’re CHASING me!” A few people turned to listen.
“I CAN chase you,” he smugly said. “And I am.”
With teeth fully-clenched I spoke. “Get...the hell...away from me.” I knew he understood, as he rolled his eyes, put on a fake smile, and set to work approaching somebody else.
I shook my head at the state of our current world. Yes, we had eluded telemarketers by putting ourselves on “do not call” lists, but now we had to run through the streets to protect our freedom? This was just the sort of thing to put off people from being charitable. Which would probably result in the eventual extinction of pandas.
Life in the big city...
***
Safe inside the café and free of all solicitors, I finally took out some cash to pay the latte girl. When I gave her the money my hand grazed her perfectly-moisturized palm. The feeling made me smile, not because I was leaning towards lesbianism these days, but because I, who in the past had been known to mash up hand lotions and foot creams to achieve the perfect softness, could certainly appreciate the effort.
I found a table right by the window, the perfect observational perch. As my laptop hummed to life, I took the first sip of non-fat toffee-nut heaven. At that exact moment, I heard two eager halves of a mouth snap shut on a ginger molasses cookie. My acute hearing alerted me to some licking of the lips as well. I didn’t even have to turn to see the ecstasy-filled expression on the person’s face. I know the feeling. A year and a half ago that person was me, chomping on cookies to fill the void, and obsessing over love long lost. So much had changed since then.