Fascination

Chapter Three

I sat on a couch in the lobby, flipping a Life Saver on my tongue and playing with my nails. I took the time to admire the space. Black marble floors decorate with the occasional rug, pristine white walls that contrasted with the dark floors. The space was relatively empty except for the large front desk-which only sat a young man in a security uniform flipping through a dirty magazine-and the small sitting area that held two black leather couches and two love seats with a rug and a coffee table decorated with tabloids.
As I reached for the tabloid, a voice behind me startled me enough to drop it on a different spot on the table.
"I didn't expect you to still be here," Will said as he rounded the couch, holding out a hand to help me up.
"Why wouldn't I still be here?" I asked with a raised eyebrow and small smirk as I stood and adjusted my purse on my shoulder.
"You don't seem like the kind of woman to be kept waiting." Will answered with a firm smirk, resting his hand on the small of my back and leading me outside.
The bitter wind hit my cheeks with a stinging sensation and I felt goosebumps rise on my skin.
I could feel Will's hot breath along my neck as he leaned in to talk to me. "I hope you don't mind walking in this cold. It would be a waste to crab a taxi since the pub is only a few blocks away."
"Oh," I say a little louder so he doesn't have to lean in any closer, my cheeks are already aflame from embarrassment, which I make sure to blame on the wind if he notices. "I don't really mind. I've gotten quite used to the cold by now, you know, once I bought a thick jacket." I pulled a smile across my face.
"Oh, so you came from somewhere warm? Louisiana, Florida maybe? I knew I sensed an accent." He smiles at me, moving his hand around my waist to hold me closer, probably just to not take up too much room on the sidewalk.
I let out a laugh. "I'm from Southern California. And what's this about an accent? You're the one with the whole New Yorker thing going on."
   He looked at me with mock shock. "What ya mean aboot ah accent? I don't have ah accent."
   I let out a laugh as he said it. "Okay, that is definitely a bad Canadian accent. Learn how to speak like a New Yorker properly."
   We both laughed about it and then were silent the rest of the walk, although it was a very comfortable silence.
   When we got to the pub, it wasn't exactly something I'd expect Will to take me to. It was small and rustic, although very clean and... empty. It surprised me how empty it was on a Wednesday night at eight o'clock. Weren't working New Yorkers generally drunk half the time and depressed?
   Will removed my coat as we walked inside, hanging it up with his own before leading us over to a small table. Immediately after we took a seat, the only waiter in the pub ran over to us, asking for our orders.
   "Whisky, no ice." Said Will. "No particular brand." He began to roll up the sleeves of his dress shirt and I couldn't help but stare at the ring on his right middle finger.
   "Fireball whiskey with apple cider, if you have it." I said with a smile. The editor nodded and scurried off.
   "So, you like your drinks hot?" Will asked with a smirk.
   "Like my men," I replied confidently, feet shifting around under the table.
   Will smirked. "I'm flattered." He sat back in his chair, hands folded on the table.
   "Who said I was talking about you?" I said with a laugh, making will let out a bark of a laugh, accompanied by a confident smile.
   "The fact that you came out with me for a drink."
   "Ah, perspective, aren't we." I smiled and took a long sip of my drink as the waiter set it on the table.
   Will took a long sip of his as well before leaning across the table. "listen, I'm sorry my father... Interrogated you before. But I'm curious as well, could I ask you a few questions?"
   I shrugged and nodded, taking another sip. "Shoot."
   "Why'd you move up here?"
   "And your father asked me the same questions," I cleared my throat, "I came up here mostly for work. But then I also came because of the popularity of the city."
   Will nodded and considered my answer. "I'm betting you gave my father a far more descriptive answer."
   "Yes, sir."
   "Another question. What did you plan on getting out of this drink?"
   "Isn't it obvious, to have an interesting conversation with a New Yorker and a good drink." I smiled and raised my glass to him before finishing it off.
   "You know," Will leaned across the table, biting his lip, "this isn't the best liquor in town. I have the expensive stuff back at my apartment. What do you say?"
   I stuck my tongue to the inside of my cheek and smirked slightly. "I'll call a cab."