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Really, Nick wasn’t fancy enough for a place like this.
Merle’s publishing company was throwing a party in honor of the launch of the first Pepperwood Chronicles novel in a New York City brownstone. And it was too fancy.
It belonged to some company executive. It reeked of wealth. The wallpaper might as well have been made of dollar bills.
“Those are some high ceilings,” Nick muttered on his way in. And then, in the foyer: “That’s a fancy centerpiece.” It was – a tall, abstract plant structure sitting on top of a round wooden coffee table.
That’s how he went about the place, pointing out everything that would’ve looked out of place in the loft. His editor laughed nervously, trying to steer Nick away from furniture and decor and introduce him to various members of the publishing company. Nick shook everyone’s hands distractedly, finding it hard to look anyone in the eye. Everyone was wearing either suits or cocktail dresses. He was sporting a suit himself, but these people looked like they wore them regularly. They congratulated him. Some had gotten an early edition of the novel and complimented him on the work. It felt like a dream.
“No way. I didn’t think these were real!” Nick walked up excitedly to an ice sculpture of a monkey. He rubbed his face. “I need a drink.”
Merle’s smile was tight-lipped. “Don’t get too drunk. We want people here to like you.”
Nick muttered something like “right, of course” before backing away. It took everything in him not to panic moonwalk straight into the table with the drinks. They were serving wine. He took an empty glass and poured from a bottle. It was dry. Sour. Nick wrinkled his nose but, feeling masochistic, downed the thing in one go.
He wondered when his friends would show. Coach had to show up; he only lived a 40 minute train ride away. Cece and Schmidt had flown in on the grounds of visiting Schmidt’s family but Nick knew Jess roped them into going to support him. And where was Jess? She texted that she’d landed hours ago but Nick didn’t get anything after that. His palms were sweating.
He made small talk with a few people that approached him. A few of them were writers themselves.
“I remember my first debut novel,” one lady said. She had a blonde up-do and wore a green mini dress. She looked like she was nursing her third or fourth champagne glass, swaying on her feet, her face flushed. “The pressure is insane. They want you to do so well and if you flop, well, there goes your whole career!” She laughed. The man next to her, presumably another writer, also laughed. Nick also started laughing. What she was saying wasn’t very funny, though. He knew Monkey Random House put down a large advance, predicting Pepperwood would be big. If it was anything short of that, he’d be screwed.
“I think I’m going to get another glass of wine,” Nick said, pointing in a random direction and slowly backing away from the veteran novelists. He nearly slammed into Coach in his rush to get away.
“Coach!”
“Haha, my man!” Coach instantly pulled Nick into a crushing hug and patted him on the back, which, with Coach’s strength, hurt a little. “You actually did it. I didn’t think your procrastinating ass would ever make it. I just thought you’d live in that loft forever and die alone. But you made it!”
“I still live in the loft, Coach,” Nick said, frowning. “And I’m single.”
“Right!” Coach said, a wide smile on his face. He gave Nick one more pat on the back. A waiter with a tray came by, offering something that looked like a shish kabob with shrimp. Coach took a handful and Nick followed suit, then refilled his wine glass.
“This place is insane,” Coach said. “Did you see the chandelier?”
“Yes,” Nick said, feeling validated. There was a giant chandelier in the living room. It shone like a thousand diamonds. Hell, it might’ve been made of diamonds. Was that possible? The collar of Nick’s shirt was feeling tight and he adjusted it. Was it warm in here? Surely they could afford central air in this place.
“Oh, hey! Jess!” Coach shouted.
Before he even saw her, a warmth flooded through Nick at the sound of her name. His eyes followed where Coach was looking. Emerging from the entryway was, indeed, Jessica Day. She was fussing over a pea coat, struggling to get out of it until one of the waiters came by to help her. She nearly tripped on her heels trying to pull her arms out and laughed, waving it off, though the waiter looked concerned. She straightened up, pressing down her dress, and looked up, instantly spotting Nick and Coach.
She looked nice. Really nice. A little risqué, even. Nick didn’t mean for his eyes to roam on her décolletage but Jess wasn’t normally the little black dress type. And it was that. Black. And little. The straps tied behind her neck, revealing her shoulders. She was wearing her hair up. It was slightly mussed up, flyaways going in every direction, as if she’d gotten it messy on the way here from the car ride or the wind. Nick’s mouth dropped open a little. She seemed like part of a dream too.
“Coach, it’s been years!” Jess flung herself at Coach.
“Only a few months, but I’m flattered,” Coach said, returning the embrace.
“And the man of the hour himself,” she chirped, meeting Nick’s gaze and pulling away from Coach. She hugged Nick. She smelled like peaches. She put on her newscaster voice and stuck out an imaginary microphone. “Nicholas Miller, how does it feel to be America’s next Hemingway?”
Nick chuckled but waved his hands. “No, no. No fanfare. The book hasn’t even officially been published.”
“But you got a six-figure deal!” Jess exclaimed, too loud for comfort. Nick put a hand on her shoulder and a hovered a finger over her lips.
“Jess, don’t, okay?” He looked around. Some of the writers he saw earlier were looking over at them but looked away the moment he caught them looking. “Not here. Those are projected sales, okay? If it flops, they’ll all hate me!”
She looked at his finger by her mouth like it was a knife. Or a particularly mesmerizing yarn at Michaels (he was never accompanying her again).
“Okay, sheesh,” she muttered. “Relax, Miller. You should be proud of yourself for what you’ve accomplished.” She folded her hands over her chest in that no-funny-business way that meant she was determined to make her point. Then she looked up at him with those big blue eyes and shrugged. “I mean, I’m just excited for you.”
Nick felt flushed. He was aware of her skin, still cool from the outside, and how it felt resting against the warmth of his own. He locked eyes with her and thought, for a moment, that he could dive into the blue of them. Take a swim and cool off. God, what was he thinking? He took a step back, letting go of her. He felt like he just spilled a drink in his own mind and was slipping and sliding over it.
“I know,” he said. “And I appreciate it. Thank you for being excited about my accomplishments. You’re like the father I never had.”
She chuckled then, her face breaking into that brilliant smile. God, the kids at school must’ve loved her. Bubbly and beautiful and warm. He definitely would’ve been hot for teacher if he was her student. Shit. Seriously, what was he thinking? How much wine did he have? It was over between them. Sure, the occasional bout of lust hit him, especially when he’d catch a whiff of her newly-applied perfume in the hallway outside his room, but that was it.
Jess looked around. “This place is uncomfortable fancy, isn’t it?”
Coach and Nick nodded furtively.
Nick knew he should be chatting up the publishing company employees and the other writers--“networking”--but he didn’t want to tear away from Coach and Jess. Their presence relaxed him. They found a comfortable couch in the living room where less people were gathered and talked. Every time Jess threw her head back to laugh Nick found himself grinning wider. And he keeps looking at her neck. Why did he want to touch it so much? Her skin looked so soft. Get it together, Miller, he told himself. Whatever was between them was in the past, where it had to stay. She was just particularly radiant today. And she’d come all the way here to support the book launch. He couldn’t pretend that wasn’t making his chest warm. That and the wine, which he put aside, deciding enough was enough. One of his several mature decisions in recent months. Having a career changed you.
Coach stepped away to grab them all more drinks and shish kabobs, which had been delicious. It got quiet when he left. Jess was concentrating on working a piece of celery around a tiny bowl of hummus, another appetizer, before taking a bite.
“This is delicious,” she said between chews, more to herself than to Nick. Nick blinked. He was sitting on the couch, a large window behind him. The light was fading, descending over Jess’ face, making her skin look glowy.
“Mmm,” Jess said. Nick raised his eyebrows, knowing she was about to announce something. “This is unlike any hummus I’ve ever had. You have to try it!”
“For the last time, Jess, you haven’t had hummus. Yogurt that’s been out for too long is not hummus!”
“Try it. Try it!” She was shoving a stick of celery in his face, but she was giggling, that low, throaty laugh that he loved.
He laughed too. “All right, all right!” He opened his mouth, not thinking twice about it. She gently set the celery stick between his teeth, the tips of her fingers brushing his lips before retracting. She looked at him expectantly, hands folded under her chin. He chewed and nodded. “Yeah. I actually hate celery so this is disgusting.”
She laughed and grabbed a tiny pillow from behind her back, throwing it at him.
“Hey!” He said, wide-eyed. He held up the pillow. “These are luxury pillows, Jessica. If you ruin them, they’ll fire me.”
Jess’s eyebrows shot up. “I want to ruin some pillows. Don’t you want to destroy everything in this place? A little bit?”
“I mean,” Nick shrugged. “Looking at this wealth brings out every insecurity I have, so yes, definitely.”
“And we haven’t even seen the upstairs yet.” Jess wiggled her shoulders.
He grinned at her stupidly. “What?”
“I bet there are more pillows to ruin upstairs,” she said, leaning forward conspiratorially. Then she shut her eyes in instant regret. “I mean. Not like – not like that.”
Nick chuckled nervously. She had to be kidding, right? Showing up like that? Saying that to him? Accident or not, his mind was already back on her dress and how he’d like to tear it off her. Which wouldn’t require much. It was short. Not dance-club short, but pushing-the-formality-of-this-venue short. Short for her.
“You—you want to go upstairs? Together?”
“Don’t you want to know what’s up there? See more rich people stuff?”
Right. That’s all this was. Rich people stuff. How many times were they going to be in a place like this again? She had that glint in her eye that she got whenever she really wanted to do something. He sighed. “All right, fine. We’ll just say we were looking for the bathroom.”
On their walk to the stairwell, they saw Coach cozying up to a woman in the kitchen. They were laughing over a cheese tray. “Ridiculous,” Nick muttered, lingering to watch them stab cubes of cheese with toothpicks. He could go for some cheese cubes. Not all luxury was bad.
Jess slipped her hand into his and pulled him upstairs. “Come on!”
It was darker on the second floor, the hallway lights turned off. There was, indeed, a bathroom, the only lit room. The rest were closed shut with no light emerging from underneath the door. It was quieter up there, the conversations of the party from below fading. The stairwell, the decorative panels of the wall, the framing the dark olive wallpaper-- it was all wood. There were paintings of countryside scenery hanging up.
Jess was humming quietly under her breath as she peaked into the bathroom. She pumped some hand lotion and smoothed it over her hands and arms. “Mmm. Sandalwood.”
Nick said he didn’t know what the hell sandalwood was. Jess stuck out her hands for him to smell her. The inside of her wrist was small when he wrapped his hand around it and drew it closer. It was so quiet he could only hear their breathing and the shuffling of their clothes. Jess went very still.
“Not bad,” Nick murmured. “Now I know what sandalwood is.”
She was grinning again. “I think that’s what Pepperwood smells like.”
Nick lowered her hand, slowly, then released it from his grasp. “I don’t think so. Pepperwood is more like cigarettes. And a vague fish smell.”
Jess grimaced. “Pepperwood smells fishy? Ew, why?”
Nick threw his hands up. “He’s from New Orleans, remember?”
Jess raised her eyebrows like she didn’t believe it, waving her hand in dismissal and spinning on her heels. “If you say so.” Nick, strangely, liked that Jess had her own idea about what Pepperwood smelled like.
She hit the lights of the bathroom, claiming leaving them on was a waste of energy, and then moved on to the next room. Nick followed.
It was a bedroom. A massive master bedroom. A fourposter bed, which Nick also didn’t think were real outside of movies. A plasma screen TV, polished wood furniture. Nick was in awe. Maybe he did want to look at rich people stuff. He whistled softly.
“Well, I’ll be,” Jess said, as if reading his thoughts.
The wood paneled floors creaked underneath their feet as they slowly stepped inside. Nick shushed Jess every time she stepped on a creaky panel, which made her giggle. He’d do it more intensely each time, which made her laugh harder.
When they arrived at the dresser, Jess started pulling drawers open. “Oh, lingerie!” She pulled out a lavender lacey piece of…something, dangling it in front of Nick. “Want to gift this to a lady friend?” She arched her eyebrow in a way that felt suggestive.
Nick tried to ignore the part of his brain imagining what Jess might look like in lavender lingerie. “Are you suggesting I steal from my boss?”
Jess’ eyes widened. “You think these are Merle Streep’s clothes?”
“No! I don’t know. I don’t know who’s house this is! It’s some head honcho’s at Monkey Random House.”
“Oh. Eh, with this amount of money, they won’t even notice.” She handed the lingerie to Nick.
“Oh, cashmere.” Jess had moved on to the next drawer, digging her hands into a pile of sweaters. “Try this on, Nick.” She pulled out a men’s cashmere sweater.
“I’m not gonna—oh, soft.” Jess had touched the fabric to his cheek. He took the sweater from her and shut his eyes, rubbing it on his face. “This was a very good idea, Jess.”
“You know, you’ll probably live in a place like this one day. Those books will make you a wealthy man.”
That snapped Nick out of his trance. He began to put the sweater on but looked at Jess very sternly once he got his head through the hole. “Enough with the high hopes, Jess. Pepperwood could crash and burn and then I’d be a poor man. Exactly like I am now.”
“I don’t believe that for a second.” Jess stepped closer and picked a piece of lint off Nick’s new sweater. “I like who you are now, so there’s nowhere to go but up.” She pursed her lips, like she was saying the most casual fact in the world.
“Thank you, Jess,” Nick mumbled, his voice hoarse. His gaze flickered to her lips, which were red and shiny. “You look really nice tonight.”
“Thank you. You don’t look bad yourself. Just…stressed. Over nothing.” She reached out both her hands, placing them on his shoulders and squeezing lightly. “We gotta get you to relax a little.” She started massaging his shoulders and Nick shut his eyes and nearly groaned. That felt good. When the ol’ guy in his pants twitched a little, Nick jumped as though Jess had electrocuted him.
“Let’s look at the other rooms!” he said. He cleared his throat and turned toward the door, walking away before Jess had a chance to say anything.
The next room was an office. Nick let out a soft, “woah,” leaving the door to swing open behind him as he entered. More wood everywhere. Bookshelves lined with books, though not the regular kind but those lawyer-y leather ones with no titles, all filling up the shelves. Nick never understood what those were all about, couldn’t even begin to guess their contents.
Jess, following him in, also stopped short. “Well, this might have Russell’s office beat. Is that…turquoise?”
Turquoise stones lined up the edge of the desk desk. The stems of the lamps were also accented with turquoise. Turquoise-colored curtains hung from the tall windows. “This room could easily be on HGTV. Like, the post-makeover part,” Nick murmured.
He casually wandered behind the desk, looked around, as if anyone but Jess was in the room, and took a seat in the big leather chair. He adjusted himself and grinned. “You’re right. Maybe I am destined to a life of luxury.”
Jess beamed at him and propped herself up on the desk in front of him, swinging her legs, hands braced on the edge of the desk. “You know, Nick. I really wanted to come here to support you. But I see now that that probably isn’t enough.”
Nick shook his head, elbows propped up on both armrests, hands resting on his stomach. “What do you mean? You flew all the way out here. I’m grateful.”
“I know,” Jess said. “But –“ she reached out her hand and grabbed Nick’s tie and gently tugged it. “Maybe there’s more that I could do.”
Her eyes flickered to Nick’s lips. Her mouth was parted. Nick had almost forgotten that look. Her could feel the coolness of her calf where it bumped up against his leg.
“Jess,” he said in a low voice. “What are you saying?”
Without hesitation, she replied. “I want you, Nick.”
“Whoa, um.” Nick cleared his throat. “Jess, you’ve been drinking. We both have.”
His body was protesting. Her legs were right there, her dress hiking up over her thighs a little. He focused on her face, though that wasn’t much better. She was giving him that innocent, doe-eyed look, her cheeks flushed from the wine.
“No, Nick. These are the thoughts of a sober Jess. I planned this on the plane ride over.” She leaned forward, face nearly level with his now, still tugging his tie. “How I’d help you relax.”
“You—” Nick swallowed. Another image of Jess flashed by – of her on an airplane getting hot and bothered in her seat. “I don’t understand.”
She hopped off the desk and sank into his lap. She ran her hand over his collarbone and then fixed his tie, adjusted his collar. Nick wanted to grab and kiss her. His tipsy mind was making him forget all the rebuttals that were building in his throat.
“It could be a one-off. A what-happens-in-New-York stays-in-New-York sitch. And I’ll be honest with you, Nick, it’s been a dry few months. I mean it’s like my grandma’s eyes down there. Very dry. Requiring many eyedrops.”
“You use eyedrops down there?”
“No. I was hoping you would be my eyedrops.”
Nick’s frown deepened. “You want my semen to be the eyedrops to your grandma’s eyes?”
She wrapped her arms around his neck, then, glancing at his lips again. “Let me do this for you, Nick. If you want. Just know that I also want. Really want.”
Nick studied her face for a moment, then wrapped a hand around her waist and kissed her. He kissed her slowly, letting his other hand travel up her thigh and around her ass. The dress slid up easy.
They kissed like that for a few minutes. Jess tasted warm, like wine and a hint of peppermint, like a breath mint. God, maybe she had planned this.
He broke the kiss. “Jess.” They both panted. She ran a finger down his dress shirt, loosening the tie she’d just adjusted, unbuttoning the top button.
He wanted to let the dinner downstairs melt away. He was already hard, and the way Jess was adjusting herself in his lap wasn’t helping.
He groaned. “God, you look stunning.” She shivered underneath him, eyes slightly hooded, her mascara slightly smudged.
“You flew all the way out here to seduce me?” he said. “Maniacal woman.”
“I just wanted to make you feel better.” She batted her eyelashes. He said her name but it came out like warning growl.
“Really, Nick, I did.”
“You’ve been thinking about me?” Nick lets his hand travel between her legs, running his fingers along her damp underwear.
Jess eyes shut closed, her breath catching. “Yes.”
Nick didn’t know what took over him, but he pushed one of her legs away, spreading her knees. Her skin was smooth, newly shaved, and God, was that for him too? He pushed aside the fabric of her cotton underwear. When he entered a finger inside her, Jess’ gasped, and reflexively, she pressed closer, one arm around his shoulders, the palm of the other flat against his chest.
He dipped another finger inside of her and pressed his thumb against her clit. She writhed in his lap, panting. “I forgot —oh.”
Nick didn’t take his eyes off her the whole time, his breathing also quickening. By the time she came on his fingers, his hard-on was throbbing. Every time her ass rubbed up against it Nick suppressed a groan.
Jess buried her head in his neck and said, nearly slurring, “D’you lock the door? Someone—” She sighed. “Someone might come up here.”
“Oh, now you’re worried about that?” Nick raised his eyebrows. “When this was your plan all along?”
Jess shook her head, sitting up straight suddenly, alarm in her eyes. She started loosening his tie again, this time actually untying it. “No. I’m sorry, Nick. This is your night. I’m sorry.
Jess was frowning now, and her eyes looked glinty. Was she…?
“Jess, what’s wrong?” Nick’s heart lurched, eyes widening. “Are you okay? Hey, honey, I’m sorry. I thought you wanted this.”
“I did,” she said, crying now. “But it was your night, Nick. And I seduced you like a femme fetale and made it about me.” Her voice sounded more nasally than usual. “I’ll make it up to you, I swear,” she continued. “Just take your pants off.” She climbed out of his lap and stood, arms hanging limply at her sides like a child’s, sniffling.
“Wait.” Then, a little firmer. “Jess, baby, wait.”
Jess actually froze. There was a moment where neither of them said anything. Nick hadn’t called her that in a while. The last time was when they were still a couple.
“Just so we’re clear, I don’t object to any of this,” Nick said, gesturing with both hands, palms up, to emphasize the any. “But I don’t understand what’s going on right now. Are you okay?” He took her hand in his, looking up at her. He felt reverent. He didn’t think he minded it.
Jess took a shuddering breath. “I thought I wanted to do something nice for you. But I think it was just an excuse for you to do something nice for me. To me. And now I feel selfish for taking advantage of your vulnerable emotional state. It’s like when someone gets you a present they know you won’t like so they could keep it.”
Nick raised an eyebrow. “Jess—” he leaned forward, running his hand along her inner thigh, wrapping around it gently and pulling her back to him. “As far as selfish gifts go, this one is pretty good.”
Jess sniffled again, brushing away a tear under one smudged eye. “So you’re okay with this?” Her legs trembled a little under his touch.
Nick wanted to say something like, I’m a man, Jess. Or, Are you kidding me? This is my go-to fantasy. But he just nodded and said, as casually as possible, “If you are.”
“Yeah,” she said. “I am.” She ran her fingers through his hair. Nick rose from his seat, cupping his face in her hands and kissing her. He wrapped his hands around her, pulling her to him, almost raising her off her feet. Then he broke away and mumbled, “Can I...” He cleared his throat. “Can we…continue?”
Jess smiled. “Yes. God, where are my manners?” She started to undo the buckle of his belt, sitting back down on the desk. Nick could hardly believe what was happening. Jess was perched on a desk, him standing over her. He never thought they’d be the kind of couple to have sex on a desk.
Then again, they weren’t a couple.
He was wordless in his movements then, tugging her damp underwear down her legs and pushing up her dress. She toed out of her shoes furtively, then wrapped her legs around him.
“Condom,” Nick said. He patted his pants pocket, his eyes not leaving Jess’s as he did. “Shit—I think I left my wallet downstairs.”
Jess shook her head. “It’s okay.”
Nick swallowed, searching her face. “Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
Nick ran a thumb over her lower lip, kissed her again. He bit where his thumb had just been, then parted her mouth with his tongue. She let out a whine.
As they kissed, Nick's thoughts raced a mile a minute. Jessica Day. Really pulling out all the stops. She always surprised him. He was feeling, suddenly, or maybe all night, like Jess knew every button to push to seduce him. But she had been wrong. She accomplished what she set out to do. Watching her come on his lap, after all this time, even though they weren't together anymore, did wonders for his confidence.
When he entered her, Jess sighed. He started off slow, so that they could both find purchase. The desk and all its items shook every time he pushed inside her. She was warm all over.
“Fuck,” Nick said. He moved in and out of her faster. She adjusted her position, just slightly, and he went deeper, making them both moan. The sound of panting and skin slapping on skin echoed through the high-ceiling room. It was obscene. But if anyone heard, Nick didn’t care. He wouldn’t stop if the whole staff of Monkeypress came in. He gripped her thigh hard as he came, which made Jess cry out.
“Jess," he said. "Jesus fucking Christ.”
Jess touched herself and a moment later, came for a second time.
Nick pushed back a sweaty strand of Jess’ hair. “This is exactly why I need an office.”
She laughed, eyes still closed, catching her breath.
They seemed to sober up after that. They generously used the tissues in the sole tissue box on the desk, cleaning up as best as they could. Jess fixed up his tie and hair and he wiped her face of sweat and stray mascara with the help of some spittle.
Outside the office, door closed, they checked each other out one last time.
“And like I said,” Jess said, “whatever happens in New York stays New York.” She gave a half-hearted smile, adjusting his tie one last time.
“Right.”
Nick went downstairs first. They figured, as man of the hour, he could divert attention to another room. He found himself chatting to the same group he’d seen earlier, not feeling as queasy now. He held a glass of champagne but didn’t drink out of it. Schmidt and Cece arrived.
“Wow, Nick. You look magnificently glow-y, like a pregnant woman,” Schmidt commented. Then, leaning in and whispering in Nick’s ear, “It’s kind of attractive. Fame suits you, my friend.”
Nick just patted his shoulder. “Yup, that’s it.”
A half-hour later or so, Jess came down the stairs. Nick pretended not to see the way Cece looked suspiciously between the two of them.
Without the assistance of wine, Nick chatted. He actually got a few phone numbers and emails and, a few times, gave out his own. He would look over, now and again, to the kitchen, where Jess and Cece were talking to some guy. She looked radiant. Laughing and smiling easy, probably making that poor guy sweat through his shirt.
The blonde lady from earlier, whose name turned out to be Angie, followed Nick’s gaze. “You know,” she said, pressing up a hand against one side of her mouth. “I’ve gotten a hookup or two out of these events. Don’t be afraid to shoot your shot.”
“Yeah,” Nick said, grinning when Jess’s gaze met his. “Maybe I will.”