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only the best, the sexiest. The real men who
could handle my unique, supple sexuality. This man, this Drew; he could
handle it. But not now. Not now.
    “Well then. I will go about this a different way.”
Drew tapped his foot, looking around him. He shot his arm out. “I’m just going
to go ahead and be that guy—that traditionalist. Why don’t you go on a date
with me? Friday night? Isn’t that when the kids are going out these days?” His
eyes flashed.
    I considered this for a moment, tracing my tongue
around the inside of my teeth. I could still taste him. I wanted him. “I don’t
know,” I said. “I always have so much to do on Saturday mornings.” I remembered
the tiresome day that had come before; the constant classes, the constant
complaints. The constant pliés and reléves . The pointed toes; the classical music.
    “Then Saturday evening, a week from
today. If I can wait to see you that long,” Drew said
earnestly, moving toward me. God I wanted his lips on my lips. “Come on. If you
don’t agree, I’ll just start stalking you or something. I have to see you.
You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve seen in all of Chicago.”
    I knew this was not
true. I had seen a million more beautiful women than me only just that day. Five just in the coffee shop. But his voice seemed true, not
riddled with any sort of falsehood, with lies. His eyes shone brightly.
    I thought for a moment. “I don’t know— “ I sputtered again, unsure. My thoughts were rushing around
in my head. Finally, seeing the desperation, the loneliness deep in this man’s
eyes—a man, not a boy like so many of my last pursuits!—I said okay. I nodded
my head languidly, rolling my eyes a little bit. “Saturday night. Sure.” I
nodded firmly. My mind was screaming; I’m going on a date! I’m going on a date!
With a real person!
    “Wait— “ Drew interrupted,
reaching into his pocket. He turned his phone toward me. “Can I have your
number? You know. So we can make plans for next week.”
    My heart was humming in my chest. How long had it
been since a boy asked for my number? I tapped it into his iPhone, watching how
my slim, white fingers worked with such femininity. I made a mental note to
think about the intricacies of sex, to remember just how it all happened; it
had been too long.
    Drew leaned down as I handed him his phone once
more. He kissed me for a subtle moment on the side of the mouth. A horn blazed
by us, bringing us back to the city, away from the moment. I swallowed, looking
up at him. Nodding. I was going to see him again,
wasn’t I? I thought. Or would he disappear, like a memory?
    I turned my back then, and pushed my key through the
lock. I was trembling a little, and the key was difficult—like a puzzle.
Finally, the door lurched open for me and I stepped through, watching as my
shadow careened over the tile floor.
    “Good night, sweet Molly,” were the words that I
heard him say in the end, as I pushed the door closed and dismissed him,
feeling the strange empowerment of saying “no.”

 
    CHAPTER THREE
    I took the stairs to my fourth-level apartment. The
elevator always took incredibly long to reach me, and it had gotten stuck more
than once, with me on the inside. I had grown accustomed to blaming my elevator
for everything. Every time I was late.
    I was huffing and puffing when I reached my sad,
gray door. I opened it with the other key and immediately heard the shrill
“meow” emanating from somewhere deep in the crevice of my tiny, hole-like
apartment. “Boomer?” I called out. I tossed my keys on
the kitchen table, noting the crumbs, the wrappers that Drew would have seen,
had he come upstairs. I made a mental note to always clean up after myself—just
in case of chance encounters. What a slob he would have thought I was!
    I walked toward the couch, still hearing the meows.
I reached down behind the chair, wrapping my hands around the fat, grey cat. I
had adopted him when I moved to the