get women.”
Aralia and Jackie stared at her, their minds trying to absorb the breadth of information that she had just rained on them. At that point, they were at the front of the line and the cab driver opened the door for all of them. They squeezed into the backseat and gave directions back to Caroline’s place. The car took off in the typical New York taxi lurch into oncoming traffic, pulled an illegal u-turn, and headed in the direction of Caroline’s apartment.
“Don’t brush him off so quickly, Caroline. I mean, the guy is a rock star. That kind of scores him some bonus points, you know? Plus, I know you pretty well and your judgment is rarely off base. If you thought he meant those things he said, then maybe he really did. Aside from the entire girlfriend fiasco, it sounds unbelievably romantic,” Aralia said to Caroline in the cab.
“I guess, but the girlfriend is a pretty big part to leave out,” Caroline responded.
Jackie and Aralia both nodded in agreement. Deciding to change the subject, they began chatting about their night and the men that they had met. Jackie had met a security guard, whose phone number was written down the side of her arm, and Aralia had met a group of gay men that she was going to go clubbing with next weekend. It wasn’t long until the taxi jolted to a stop in front of Caroline’s apartment building. She climbed over Aralia and hopped out of the cab, waving goodbye to the girls. They smiled and shouted goodbye to her, then turned to give the driver the next address.
Caroline waved until the taxi pulled away, then walked over to her front door and thanked the doorman as he opened it for her. She slowly climbed the several flights of narrow stairs until she reached her apartment door. She had a large apartment for New York, but that still wasn’t saying very much. She let herself in and dropped her keys on the front table. Her home was dark and she didn’t bother to turn on any of the lights. Instead, she stepped out of her heels, wiggled out of her leather pants, and tossed off her shirt, leaving a trail of clothes on the floor to her bedroom.
Once in her room, she threw on the t-shirt that she had stolen from Logan, enjoying the soft fabric that hung loosely on her small frame. She climbed straight into bed and was already asleep when her head hit the pillow. The commotion, exhaustion, and emotions of the evening had zapped everything that she had.
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Caroline woke up to a stream of sunlight stealing its way into her room, through a gap in the blinds. She scrunched her eyes closed, trying to ignore Sunday altogether, and just go back to sleep. After about an hour of willing the sun to disappear and its defiant refusal to do so, Caroline yawned and lifted herself out of bed. She had no plans today and could just relax, which was exactly what she intended to do. The events of last night were behind her and she was back to real life, ready to move on.
She trotted into her kitchen and began rummaging through her fridge, finally settling on yogurt mixed with some granola. Grabbing a spoon, she balanced the yogurt in one hand and scooped up her sketch pad and pencil, heading to the living room. Her favorite part of her apartment was an alcove jutting out of the building that she had turned into a window seat with comfy pillows adorning it. It was the perfect spot to sit and people watch, looking for inspiration on what to draw that day.
She settled herself on the bench, leaning her bare legs against the window, as she was still wearing just the large t-shirt she had stolen from Logan. Her sketch pad sat behind her as she dove into her yogurt, enjoying each bite as she watched people walk by on the sidewalk below. She was on the second floor, so she was at the perfect angle that most people couldn’t, or wouldn’t, notice her, but still had a great panoramic view. Caroline spotted an older woman sitting on a bench reading a book a little ways down