Total pages in book: 92
Estimated words: 84026 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 420(@200wpm)___ 336(@250wpm)___ 280(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 84026 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 420(@200wpm)___ 336(@250wpm)___ 280(@300wpm)
I learned the business quickly and performed my duties with diligence and enthusiasm and, after less than a year, I’d been promoted.
It was an ordinary Wednesday when I was rushing for a taxi home after a long day, that I tripped, my ankle going out from under me as I pitched forward. Someone caught me from the side, both of us colliding as he struggled to keep me upright.
“Are you okay?” he asked breathlessly when I managed to steady myself, one hand gripped to his forearm.
I let out a whimper of pain, righting myself and coming face to face with—
“Dawson?” I asked, blinking, and setting my foot on the ground.
“Karys?” His eyes widened. “Oh my God. Hi. Are you okay?”
I nodded, putting more pressure on my ankle. It ached, but it seemed that I’d just twisted it. “Yes. Thanks to you.” I let out a small laugh. “I almost wiped out there.”
He smiled an incredulous smile. “Wow, it’s great to see you. You look . . . great.” He gave a small embarrassed laugh and shook his head. “How have you been?”
I took a step back, creating some space between us. “I’ve been . . . great.” I gave him a teasing grin. “And you? Do you work nearby?” He was wearing a suit and tie, his hair combed neatly to the side.
“Yeah. I’ve been great too.” He laughed. “I work on Wall Street.”
“Oh! Well, I’m not surprised.” I didn’t know a lot about Dawson, but I knew he had been born and raised in New York and that he’d been a finance major. Looking at him made it obvious he felt perfectly comfortable in a three-piece suit.
There was a moment of slightly awkward silence as he stared at me. After a few seconds he gave his head a small shake. “Wow. It’s crazy to run into you like this.”
“Literally,” I said.
“Ha. Right.” He nodded down to my ankle. “Are you sure you’re all right?”
“Yes. Except now I need to find another ride.” I released a breath, looking left and right at all the people craning their necks, competing for the line of taxis rolling by.
“I actually have a car parked in a garage just around the block. Can I give you a lift home?”
I raised my brows. I knew very few car owners who lived and worked in the city. Parking was always an issue, and to own a car meant you could afford the luxury of a coveted parking space both at your work and home. “Sure, that’d be . . .”
“Great,” we both said at once, laughing together.
Dawson gave me a ride home and picked me up that weekend for dinner. We began seeing each other regularly. I’d never dated before and liked the feeling of being courted. He brought me flowers and gave me small gifts. He took me to fancy restaurants and art galleries, parties that his co-workers threw in their glass high-rise apartments. Parties that featured girls in scanty outfits serving shots of alcohol on silver platters and tables of white lines of powder that guests snorted through small paper straws.
In some ways, Dawson was the same charming boy I’d met in class so many years ago. But in other ways he’d changed. Or perhaps it was simply that I hadn’t gotten to know the other side of him. He was deeply enamored by material things and appearances. And he liked me to dress up in pretty clothes so that he could flaunt me around at the parties where drugs were readily available for whomever chose to partake.
“Do you . . . do you do that too?” I asked, nodding to the straight white lines.
“No. I don’t do drugs, Karys. And I don’t want you to either.”
“Of course not,” I murmured. The whole scene reminded me of Sundara in some way I found difficult to articulate. Just like there, it felt like a “show.” It felt like I was playing some part, but I wasn’t precisely clear on what that was.
I thought of Zakai. I remembered the night I’d seen him at the rooftop party on New Year’s Eve and I wondered if the life he was living now felt like an extension of Sundara too. It made my heart ache and my breath come short. Considering specific things about his life, even all these years later, still left me raw and reeling.
Dawson kissed me for the first time two weeks after we’d begun dating. It was nice. Simple. Uncomplicated. There was no edge of shame. But a wild edge lacked as well. That all-consuming fire that had me tumbling from reality and reeling off into the stars.
Perhaps, I told myself, my feelings for Zakai were really just a form of insanity, and love shouldn’t so easily be confused with madness.
Dawson took me on a weekend trip to Nantucket and we made love for the first time. He wasn’t a skilled lover, then again, I’d only been with a man who knew every nuance of my body. These things took patience and time.