eaten in an outdoor section of a Mexican restaurant. She was a sucker for puppy-dog eyes.
“Tell you what,” she said. “Let me think about it.”
“If it’ll make you feel better, maybe you and I can study together. Just the two of us.”
Ah, now we’re getting to the Tootsie Roll center of the Tootsie Pop.
“Christian,” she chided. “Are you asking me out on a date?”
His lips curved into a loose smile, his eyes floating about the corridor before gliding back to her.
Is it possible that I’m having an effect on this guy?
It was funny how she’d never really noticed him before. The glow of Professor Asher’s light had shone too brightly. Poor Christian. He seemed as if he used to be one of those uncoordinated boys in elementary school who’d always gotten picked last on the dodge ball team.
“The thought had crossed my mind but I thought I’d best keep it professional. It seems you’ve got your sights elsewhere.”
Syeesha stiffened. “What do you mean?”
He nodded toward the classroom. “It’s kinda obvious how you look at him.”
The smile that played on her lips was gone now. She adjusted the book bag harnessed on her shoulder, fully aware of the blood rushing to her face.
She said, “I think you might have misread—”
“Don’t be embarrassed.”
“I’m not embarrassed.”
He dug around in the pocket of his coat and extended a card to her.
“If you change your mind, or just want to talk over coffee. I’d really like that.”
She didn’t bother to look at the card. Part of her wanted to storm away as evidence of her indignation. But Christian had the kind of demeanor that made haughtiness impossible. With gloved hands, she slid the card from his fingers and stuffed it inside her coat pocket.
“Thanks,” she said. “Gotta go.”
“I’ll walk you to the subway.”
“No, don’t trouble yourself.”
“I want to be troubled,” he insisted.
Her weak knees managed to support her confused, jittery body as they walked in silence to the number-two train headed to Brooklyn. She felt strangely comforted by Christian’s presence. He walked in long, confident strides and every few steps he stole small glances at her. Once they were beneath street level, they stood in the brightly lit station, watching the approaching train chug around the bend.
“Syeesha, I really didn’t mean to embarrass you back there. I know what it’s like to want someone who doesn’t even know you exist.”
“Who says I want him? He’s our teacher! And he’s so . . .” She struggled for an appropriately offensive word to describe the most perfect-looking man on the planet and all she could come up with was, “Old.”
His reply was a casual, knowing smile. The way his thick brows lifted, then furrowed, could have been considered sexy.
The doors to the train opened, but no one got off the nearly empty car. Syeesha stepped on board then turned back to shoot one last defensive strike at Christian as he stood on the platform. But he spoke before she had the chance.
“Maybe now you’ll start noticing guys a little less . . . old.”
The train door slid shut.
Instead of rushing away, Christian locked eyes with her until the train whisked out of sight.
Syeesha flopped into a seat, perplexed yet giddy. After she’d had time to fully digest what had just transpired, she allowed her held-back smile to break through.
***
Chapter 10
An Island Divided
Since the late 1800s, New York City has been divided into five boroughs: Queens, Brooklyn, Manhattan, Long Island and . . . there’s one that I’m forgetting. Oh, yes. Staten Island. Or, as the residents have nicknamed it, “the forgotten borough.” This harmless division of inhabitants is as natural to the fabric of the city as the New York Yankees and the Statue of Liberty.
But there is a deeper divide that separates us. An unspoken barrier that is causing many to pack what remains of their fragile dreams and seek
“Tell you what,” she said. “Let me think about it.”
“If it’ll make you feel better, maybe you and I can study together. Just the two of us.”
Ah, now we’re getting to the Tootsie Roll center of the Tootsie Pop.
“Christian,” she chided. “Are you asking me out on a date?”
His lips curved into a loose smile, his eyes floating about the corridor before gliding back to her.
Is it possible that I’m having an effect on this guy?
It was funny how she’d never really noticed him before. The glow of Professor Asher’s light had shone too brightly. Poor Christian. He seemed as if he used to be one of those uncoordinated boys in elementary school who’d always gotten picked last on the dodge ball team.
“The thought had crossed my mind but I thought I’d best keep it professional. It seems you’ve got your sights elsewhere.”
Syeesha stiffened. “What do you mean?”
He nodded toward the classroom. “It’s kinda obvious how you look at him.”
The smile that played on her lips was gone now. She adjusted the book bag harnessed on her shoulder, fully aware of the blood rushing to her face.
She said, “I think you might have misread—”
“Don’t be embarrassed.”
“I’m not embarrassed.”
He dug around in the pocket of his coat and extended a card to her.
“If you change your mind, or just want to talk over coffee. I’d really like that.”
She didn’t bother to look at the card. Part of her wanted to storm away as evidence of her indignation. But Christian had the kind of demeanor that made haughtiness impossible. With gloved hands, she slid the card from his fingers and stuffed it inside her coat pocket.
“Thanks,” she said. “Gotta go.”
“I’ll walk you to the subway.”
“No, don’t trouble yourself.”
“I want to be troubled,” he insisted.
Her weak knees managed to support her confused, jittery body as they walked in silence to the number-two train headed to Brooklyn. She felt strangely comforted by Christian’s presence. He walked in long, confident strides and every few steps he stole small glances at her. Once they were beneath street level, they stood in the brightly lit station, watching the approaching train chug around the bend.
“Syeesha, I really didn’t mean to embarrass you back there. I know what it’s like to want someone who doesn’t even know you exist.”
“Who says I want him? He’s our teacher! And he’s so . . .” She struggled for an appropriately offensive word to describe the most perfect-looking man on the planet and all she could come up with was, “Old.”
His reply was a casual, knowing smile. The way his thick brows lifted, then furrowed, could have been considered sexy.
The doors to the train opened, but no one got off the nearly empty car. Syeesha stepped on board then turned back to shoot one last defensive strike at Christian as he stood on the platform. But he spoke before she had the chance.
“Maybe now you’ll start noticing guys a little less . . . old.”
The train door slid shut.
Instead of rushing away, Christian locked eyes with her until the train whisked out of sight.
Syeesha flopped into a seat, perplexed yet giddy. After she’d had time to fully digest what had just transpired, she allowed her held-back smile to break through.
***
Chapter 10
An Island Divided
Since the late 1800s, New York City has been divided into five boroughs: Queens, Brooklyn, Manhattan, Long Island and . . . there’s one that I’m forgetting. Oh, yes. Staten Island. Or, as the residents have nicknamed it, “the forgotten borough.” This harmless division of inhabitants is as natural to the fabric of the city as the New York Yankees and the Statue of Liberty.
But there is a deeper divide that separates us. An unspoken barrier that is causing many to pack what remains of their fragile dreams and seek
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