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My reservations are battling against excitement though, anticipation, and they almost fully abate when I leave the hot club and step out into the cool spring night air. One drink. It could be fun. And I can’t even begin to imagine where Nick might take me. A hotel bar in Midtown? A rooftop garden? An exclusive speakeasy?
I quickly find Nick standing by the street, looking annoyed at the line of people waiting to get in. It doesn’t appear to have moved much since Mickey and I went in an hour ago.
“Be careful,” I say when I’m at Nick’s side. “You’ll scare them off glaring at them like that.”
Nick doesn’t flinch, though I know I surprised him. He really is amazingly collected. Every emotion seems to be examined before he allows it to take place.
“I’d be doing them a favor,” he says, looking down at me. “Nothing in there but bad music and expensive drinks.”
“Do you even have a concept of expensive?” I tease.
His mouth quirks, but he answers me seriously. “Of course. I know the value of money, and what’s more, I respect it.” He nods at the crowd. “They don’t.”
“How do you know?” I ask.
“Because they’re wasting it on something as meaningless as prestige. Believe me, there are plenty of decent places to drink and dance in this city that you can walk right into. The only reason all these people are here is because it’s trendy, a place to be seen and feel like you matter.”
“Wow,” I say. “Are you always this negative?”
His eyes flick back to mine. “Yes,” he says, but he smiles as he says it. “I’ll be in a better mood the further away we are from this place.”
“Then shall we?” I ask.
He nods, brushing his hair back over his scalp with a practiced motion.
I expect him to call a car, but, surprisingly, he starts walking.
“Is it close?” I ask.
“More or less,” he replies. “Do you mind a walk?”
“Not at all,” I say. “It’s a good chance to see more of the city. I haven’t been in this neighborhood before.”
“I love the city at night,” he says. “When I was younger, I’d walk for hours to clear my head, think on plans. These days it’s hard to excuse wasting the time.”
“And how are you excusing it now?” I ask.
He glances at me. “I’m not,” he says. “I’m actually trying to convince myself that this isn’t a waste of time.”
I snort. “You really know how to make a girl feel special,” I say. Nick has tucked away the overt lust he’d displayed in the club, lapsing back into what I’m starting to think of as his “work mode”. I’m not sure if I’m relieved or disappointed.
“You should feel special,” Nick says. “This is highly out of character for me.”
“Been a while since you’ve been on a date?” I ask.
“Is that what this is?” he replies, raising an eyebrow.
I follow him as he turns a corner, heading down a more residential street. The noise of the club has faded finally, layered into the constant buzz of the city.
“It has all the tell-tale signs of one,” I say. I list on my fingers, “Two people alone together, out after dark, getting a drink. Some light negging.”
Nick frowns. “What’s negging?”
I laugh. “That thing where a guy insults a girl to make her crave his approval. You’ve never heard of negging?”
“Absolutely not.” He makes a face. “Does that work?”
“Apparently,” I say. “But not on me.”
