Haley With the Hazel Eyes

Chapter 6: Logistics

Can we meet? I feel like we left things badly the other night, Luc texted.

Why? Everything's fine, honest, Haley responded.

IDK, I just feel...unsettled.

You shouldn't.

But I do, nonetheless. Please, just for an hour?

Haley considered. She had two papers to finish before class tomorrow.

But it was a beautiful day, too nice, really, to be cooped up in her stuffy apartment. The sun was shining, the trees were leafing out, and the last of the bulbs were blooming their heads off outside.

Okay, she texted back.

Smashing. Should I send a car for you?

Are you kidding? Haley actually laughed out loud. I can take the subway, or the bus. Or I could just walk to wherever you are, it's gorgeous out.

Well, I'm at the same hotel, in Midtown? I have a nice little terrace, perhaps we could have lunch outside?

Sounds great. What time?

Haley set out, deciding to walk the whole way. It was only about forty-five minutes, and it was a truly spectacular day. New Yorkers, pale from the long winter, were lounging in every public space, faces turned toward the sun, iced coffees in hand. There were even a few tourists already, fanny packs and phone cameras at the ready.

She reached the hotel with a few minutes to spare, and walked to the front desk.

The nice gentleman behind the counter gave her an appreciative look as she told him her name. Her hair hung down her back in a thick ponytail, and she wore minimal make up so she could enjoy the feel of the day on her face.

She hadn't been quite sure how to dress for a private lunch with a superstar rock singer. She'd finally decided on jeans and a green sweater. She wore no jewelry.

"You can go right up, Miss," the doorman told her.

She smiled her thank you, further brightening his day, and walked toward the elevator.

The doors slid open to the same, elegant foyer she remembered, only filled with bright sunshine this time. Luc waited by the open door to the suite.

He'd attempted to tame his wild hair with a clip, but had been only marginally successful, as most of it still foamed around his handsome face in bountiful disarray.

Today he was definitely dressed down, compared to the night of the party, and wore jeans with rips in the knee along with a Clash t-shirt, and Haley was glad she, too, had gone low key with her denim.

"Haley with the hazel eyes, welcome, welcome," he called, gesturing to the interior of the suite. "Your sweater brings out your eyes beautifully."

"Thanks." Haley entered, tennis shoes squeaking a little on the hardwood floor. "What a beautiful suite."

"You've been here before."

"I know, but I wasn't really paying attention that night, you know?" Haley replied with a little smile. "I was sort of distracted."

Luc did not smile back. "Look, I'm so very sorry for what happened that night—"

Haley waved a hand. "It was a misunderstanding, plain and simple. I'm not worried about anything like that happening again, honest."

This time he did smile, the famous smile that had been loosening people's thighs the world over for the past decade. "Wonderful. I'm glad. I've been feeling awful about that night."