An Anonymous Girl Read Online Free PDF Page B

everyone’s dreams are meant to come true.
    Still, I can’t help thinking back to that time and wondering if Gene is the same.
    When we were introduced, he took my hand in his. His voice was deep and robust, as befitting someone who worked in the theater. He was already on his way to making it big, even though he was only in his late thirties. He got there even faster than I anticipated.

    The first thing he ever said to me, as I tried to keep from blushing:
You’ve got a great smile.
    The memories always come back in this order: Me bringing him a cup of coffee and nudging him awake from his catnap in a seat in the darkened auditorium. Him showing me a
Playbill
, fresh from the printer, and pointing out my name in the credits. The two of us alone in his office, him holding mygaze as he slowly unzipped his pants.
    And the last thing he ever said to me, as I tried to hold back tears:
Get home safe, okay?
Then he hailed a cab and gave the driver a twenty.
    Does he ever think of me? I wonder.
    Enough
, I tell myself. I need to move on.
    But if I go home, I know I won’t be able to sleep. I’ll be replaying scenes from our final night together and what I couldhave done differently again, or thinking about Dr. Shields’s study.
    I look back at the bar. Then I pull open the door and stride in. I see the dark-haired banker playing darts with his friends.
    I walk directly up to him. He’s only an inch or two taller than I am in my low boots. “Hi again,” I say.
    “Hi.” He draws out the word, turning it into a question.
    “I don’t really have a boyfriend.Can I buy you a beer?”
    “That was a quick relationship,” he says, and I laugh.
    “Let me get the first round,” he says. He hands his darts to one of his friends.
    “How about a Fireball shot?” I suggest.
    As he approaches the bar, I see Sanjay look over at me and I avert my gaze. I hope he didn’t hear me when I told Lizzie I was going home.
    When the banker comes back with our shots,he clinks his glass to mine. “I’m Noah.”
    I take a sip, feeling cinnamon burn my lips. I know I’ll have no interest in seeing Noah again after tonight. So I say the first name that pops into my head: “I’m Taylor.”
    I lift up the blanket and slowly ease out from under it, looking around. It takes me a second to remember I’m on the couch in Noah’s apartment. We ended up here after a few moreshots at another bar. When we realized we’d both skipped dinner and were starving, Noah ran out to the deli at the corner.
    “Don’t move,” he’d ordered, pouring me a glass of wine. “I’ll be back in two minutes. I need eggs to make French toast.”
    I must have fallen asleep almost immediately. I guess he took off my boots and covered me with a blanket instead of waking me. He also left me anote propped on the coffee table:
Hey, sleepyhead, I’ll cook that French toast for you in the morning.
    I’m still in my jeans and top; all we did was kiss. I grab my boots and coat and tiptoe to the door. It creaks when I open it and I flinch, but I don’t hear any signs of Noah stirring in his bedroom. I ease it shut slowly, then slip on my boots and hurry down his hallway. I take the elevatorto the lobby, smoothing my hair and rubbing beneath my eyes to remove any smudged mascara while I descend the nineteen flights.
    The doorman looks up from his cell phone. “Good night, miss.”
    I give him a little salute and try to orient myself once I’m outside. The nearest subway stop is four blocks away. It’s almost midnight, and a few people are milling around. I head for the station,digging my MetroCard out of my wallet as I walk.
    My face stings in the cold air and I reach up to touch a tender patch on my chin from where Noah’s stubble rubbed against it when we kissed.
    The discomfort is somehow comforting.

CHAPTER
SIX
    Sunday, November 18
    Your next session begins as your first one did: Ben meets you in the lobby and escorts you to Room 214. As you climb the stairs,