Page 50 of Bad Influence
“That’s sad,” she says with a sigh. “Does that mean you haven’t met a lot of interesting people in your life? At your ripe old age?”
“I’m thirty-three,” I say.
“You were born in the 1900s,” she says with a grin. “That makes you old.”
“You were also born in the 1900s,” I remind her.
“Yeah, 1999. Which is practically 2000,” she says, waving a hand between us. “Let’s not forget that this is a generation gap.”
This woman is determined to drive me crazy. I think she enjoys it.
“Yeah, but I’m a millennial. According to the millennial age, I’m only twenty-three so I’m actually younger than you.”
Her eyes go cloudy and distant, looking over my shoulder. Almost absentmindedly, she whispers, “I’ve always wondered what it would be like to date a younger man. Would he be eager to please?”
I push a hand through my hair, backing away from her. She’s clearly more dangerous than I expected. And I don’t want to tell her that if she gives me the chance, fuck yeah I’m eager to please.
“Why don’t you get changed?” I suggest. “We can leave now.”
“Okay,” she agrees. “I’m sure we have to be back by a certain hour so you can get to bed on time.”
I shoot her a glare which makes her laugh. She hurries off to her room to get dressed. It’s the lightest I’ve seen her since she’s been here. Maybe even longer. There are no shadows lingering in her eyes. No question asking if she’s worthy.
It takes her ten minutes to get dressed and she walks out of her room in a pink dress printed with dark pink and white flowers. The dress has a V-neck, which dips low, showing off her cleavage. Her hair is pulled into a high ponytail, loose strands falling around her face. She’s carrying her purse and a dark pink sweater.
“Okay, I’m ready,” she says, twirling in a circle. “How do I look?”
I look at her with soft eyes and for a brief moment, I picture a time, maybe in another life, when I would have pulled her close and kissed her. Right now, in this life, Caroline needs time to heal, time to decide what she wants.
“You look beautiful,” I say.
She beams at me, clapping softly. “Thank you. Now, let’s go.”
She’s moving towards the door before I can say anything else.
CHAPTER 15
Killian
Out on the sidewalk,I turn to her. “How about we start with seeing Brooklyn today? We can head into the city another day.”
“I’m fine with that,” Caroline acquiesces easily.
Since she’s wearing comfortable shoes, we start walking. I show her most of the neighborhood spots, the clubs, the bars, the local parks, the buildings which used to be factories and warehouses, the row houses on Park Slope. She observes it all like a child, her eyes wide as she takes it all in.
“There are so many colors here,” she says. “I think that’s the most surprising thing about New York for me.”
“What do you mean?” I turn to her.
We’re walking along the row houses now, under the shadows of the trees, which are just in their first bloom of the season.
“Someone like me, like us, who was born and raised on the West Coast might expect New York to be a capitalist city. Think about how they show it on TV, people are always in a rush to get somewhere. The trains are grey, the buildings are grey. It’s so dull and lifeless. And you compare that to California and it’s so much color, vibrancy, the beaches, the ocean, the general atmosphere says you’re meant to relax here.”
Caroline looks up at me, her eyes bright. They’re grey, but they’re the only color I see on the street.
“But it’s not dull and lifeless,” she says. “Look at all these colors.”
“Yeah, there are colors,” I agree.
