Lindsey Kelk 3-Book ‘I Heart’ Collection: I Heart New York, I Heart Hollywood, I Heart Paris. Lindsey Kelk
in my own bed. So much had happened in such a short space of time and yet, as soon as I remembered my date with Alex was later that evening, time seemed to start going backwards. It was Jenny’s first twenty-four hours off duty in over a week, meaning she would pretty much be asleep for fourteen hours. She’d made some half-hearted offers to take me out when she got in from work, but the girl was dead on her stylishly shod feet, so I’d let her off. I went out to get breakfast, washed up, cleaned the kitchen, scoured the bathroom and took all my clothes to the dry cleaners. It seemed insane to me that practically no one in the entire city did their own washing, but Jenny assured me only the hyper rich had a laundry room, and taking your washing out was perfectly normal. I managed to contain a mild panic attack over what to do when you wanted to wear something the very next day when it was dirty after Jenny had presented me with a bottle of hand-washing liquid for emergencies. And I had pretended not to notice her kicking several half-empty bottles of Febreze under the sink. So they had that here too …
For the want of something to do with myself, I was showered, blow-dried and dressed in a cute Ella Moss stripy mini dress by five-thirty, giving me a whole hour and a half to apply my make-up, reapply my make-up, add some more make-up, and then completely shit myself about going on a date with someone in a band. Boosted by a quick home-mixed margarita and a kiss – both from a very sleepy Jenny, I grabbed my bag and braced myself. My heart beat sped up as I shut the door behind me and stepped out to hail a cab. I checked my phone a grand total of eight times in the cab, just in case. Nothing from Alex to cancel, nothing to confirm, but there was a sweet voice message from Tyler saying what a great night he’d had and that he would pick me up outside my building at six-thirty on Sunday.
Max Brenner’s was tucked away on Broadway, just opposite the Virgin Megastore. At least, I can see The Union from here in case things don’t go well, I told myself as I pushed myself out of the cab, The doors to Max Brenner’s opened to reveal a huge Charlie and the Chocolate Factory style chocolate lab. Absolutely not what I had expected. Absolutely not the place for the amount of eyeliner I was wearing. And the first place in all of New York that was incredibly brightly lit. Shit. Sitting right in the middle of the whispering mothers and staring fathers, was Alex. I couldn’t imagine a more incongruous scene. His black hair looked as though it hadn’t seen a brush or a comb, well, ever, the creases in his green T-shirt had creases, and compared to ‘weekend dad’ and ‘let’s get chocolate shakes for dessert! mom’ he looked as if he might start shooting up any second. Out of place, maybe, a complete scruff, definitely, and hot? Absolutely. He broke into a slow smile and a wave as he recognized me, my heart apparently the only muscle in my body able to move. If my pulse had been racing when I left the apartment, it was positively making a break for freedom now.
‘Hey,’ he said as I slid into the booth, finally forcing my feet to move one in front of the other. ‘You made it.’
‘I did,’ I said, checking the clock. Late again. ‘Sorry, I couldn’t remember exactly where this was.’
‘Cool,’ he was still smiling. I started to worry that he was stoned.
‘I wouldn’t have thought this was your sort of place,’ I said, glancing around at the churning vats of chocolate. ‘It’s not that rock and roll, is it?’
‘No,’ he said, taking his turn to glance around. ‘But addiction is pretty rock and roll, and I might not broadcast it, but I have a real problem with hot chocolate. Seriously, you won’t believe this stuff until you’ve tried it.’
I picked up the menu and looked through all the treats, hot chocolate, milk, dark, white, with chilli, with nutmeg, with cinnamon, chocolate ice cream, chocolate pizza – all this chocolate and a really hot man from a band? There was such a good chance I was in heaven, I wondered if I’d been run over on the way there.
‘Wow,’ I said, looking back up at him. If he carried on staring at me with that little smile, I was going to run out of things to say really soon. ‘So you’re a chocoholic?’
‘Guilty as charged,’ he nodded, raising a weird shaped mug with no handle. ‘I blame it on the band. You feel like you’ve got to be in rehab for something sooner or later, or you’re just not committed to the music.’
‘I can imagine,’ I said, starting to panic. What were we going to talk about? I hadn’t prepared anything at all. This was such a bad idea.
‘Everyone’s got their dirty little secrets,’ he said, swirling the thick chocolaty soup in the bottom of his mug. ‘You want to confess to yours?’
‘I’m a bit tame,’ I admitted, feeling a blush creep up over my face. ‘Since I got to New York, it’s been Ring Dings. At home, I’m a Cadbury’s Creme Egg girl. Sometimes, I’ll eat three. All at once.’
‘Wow, that is close to the edge,’ he laughed, waving over the waitress and ordering two regular hot chocolates. Was I not going to be allowed to order anything for myself while I was in this city? ‘Although I’m not sure you should be telling me that. Wouldn’t it be against your friend’s rules?’
‘I believe you are referring to “The Rules”, and I don’t know. Would that come under “Don’t tell him anything that would scare him away” or “Don’t overeat”?’
‘Possibly “Do not reveal any sort of personality of any kind for fear of him not having one of his own”.’
I nodded, biting my lip to stop myself from smiling too much. Maybe I just wasn’t ever going to be able to play by Erin’s rules.
‘So, how long have you been in New York?’ he asked, propping himself up on the table with his elbows.
‘Just a week,’ I said. As much as I wanted to think of something to talk to Alex about, I really didn’t think I could go through it all again. ‘I’m staying with my friend in Murray Hill.’
‘And you’re “sort of” on vacation?’ he sat back as the drinks arrived at our table. Oh no, now I had to navigate through a hot chocolate moustache and an awkward conversation with a very sexy, cool man. It was the cool that was throwing me, I knew it. Tyler was super sexy, but it never felt that if I said the wrong thing, he would go home to some downtown loft and sit laughing at me with members of The Strokes. Maybe I was putting too much thought into this.
‘Well, apart from the sort of vacation, I’m doing this online writing thing for The Look magazine,’ I said, so proud of myself for finding a reason to be there that didn’t involve breaking someone’s hand. ‘So I’m here for a couple of months or so.’
‘That’s cool,’ he said. ‘I love New York, but I don’t know how you can leave London. It’s such a great city.’
‘Are you kidding?’ I asked, making a brave go at drinking and talking at the same time. ‘New York is so amazing. It makes me feel like … like I’m really living, you know? It makes me want to do new things and just discover every inch of it. See everything there is to see.’
‘And London doesn’t?’ he asked, brushing his hair back off his forehead. I sipped my hot chocolate. Definitely in heaven.
‘When I was young, we lived about an hour away from London by train and all I wanted to do, was be in the city,’ I explained, trying not to be distracted by his eyes. They were so green. ‘And then when I got there, it was like, wow, London! But after a while, it starts to drain you. Everything is such hard work, everything is so expensive, the Tube costs about five times as much as the subway, and when I get home, I just feel like I need a shower right away. I don’t know, there are things I love about London and there are things I can take or leave.’
‘You’ll get to feeling that way about New York eventually.’
‘Can’t imagine it,’ I said, smiling my first easy, genuine smile. ‘God, I feel like I’m cheating on London. I do love it, I just needed a break I think, I’m just tired of London.’
‘When a man is tired of London, he is tired of life,’ Alex quoted.
I stared back at