"Thank you for coming to see the house, Nina."
"Okay. Thank you for not killing me out in the middle of nowhere, I guess," I said with a smile, sad our time together was over, likely forever.
"I'll watch you get in."
"Thanks."
I waited a long moment just in case he wanted to lean in and kiss me, but he simply smiled and stared into my eyes, making me feel intensely insecure. Finally, I blurted out, "Goodbye," and got out.
Crossing in front of the car, I forced myself not to look inside at him. Whatever this had been, it was over, and I needed to get over it. I felt his stare on my back as I stepped onto the sidewalk, but I told myself to not turn around.
Then from behind me I heard the car window lower and he said my name. Turning around, I was struck by how lonely he looked in that car all by himself. I waved and smiled, and he said quietly, "Nina, be careful getting in cars with strange men. You could get hurt, and I wouldn't want anything bad to happen to you."
He drove off, leaving me more confused than before. Frustrated and baffled by my time with Tristan Stone, I hurried into my building.
Chapter Two
Sundays were always the best day of the week, as far as I was concerned. My father had never been a very religious man after my mother died, so my sister and I had never done the Sunday church thing. For us, the last day of the weekend meant sleeping in and then a late breakfast of pancakes and waffles smothered in butter and maple syrup and lovingly made by my father.
I'd continued this tradition as often as possible, even while I was in college, and now that I was out on my own, I loved Sundays even more. Granted, there were no pancakes or waffles usually, but there was sleeping in.
Beautiful, luxurious sleeping in.
Jordan thankfully shared my love of Sunday mornings, so our apartment was like a tomb often until early afternoon. The former best friend of my college roommate, she had been the opposite of Alyssa, who acted like weekends were her own personal version of boot camp. Jordan had joined with me to refuse to rise and shine at the crack of dawn one snowy February Sunday in freshman year, and we'd been friends ever since. We liked to say that it had been in our rebellion against the dawn and Alyssa that we'd become friends.
She hadn't been home when I returned from my bizarre time with Tristan, so I was eager to tell her about it all and get her opinion. But even crazy guy stories didn't warrant waking up before noon on a Sunday.
I rolled over and saw on my alarm clock that it was just about that time, so it was fair game to head down the hall and hope she was awake. Dressed in my usual shorts and a t-shirt I liked to sleep in, I padded barefoot toward her room only to find it empty. She had been getting more serious with Justin lately, so I assumed she'd spent the night at his place. Disappointed, I shuffled back to my room and flopped down on my bed once again.
The discussion of Tristan Stone and his sexiness would have to wait.
That didn't mean he was leaving my mind anytime soon. Even if we hadn't spent any time together, he'd still be rambling around the corners of my brain. I was infatuated, so the memory of his gorgeous face would stick with me for a while.
Clicking on the television, I stared at the show on the screen while I daydreamed about the events of the previous night. Why had he come to find me if all he wanted was someone to drive upstate with? He had many friends, I imagined, so why seek out a stranger who was so unlike him?
Just admitting to myself that I wasn't of his social level made me wince. I hadn't grown up around money, but my father had always made sure my sister and I were taken care of, so money was never a real issue. We weren't wealthy, but we weren't poor. The idea that someone's income would make them better than someone else was foreign to me, but in my time living in New York, it had become very clear that my feelings on money weren't everyone's.
Tristan Stone was very wealthy and far above my place in the world, even if I still counted myself as the middle class person I'd always been before living on my own. This made his actions the night before even less understandable.
I scrubbed my hands over my face in frustration. I wanted him to like me as much as I liked him. I wanted him to be lying in bed thinking of me. Even better would be him lying in bed alone thinking of me. But just thinking of me would be nice.