Never Got Over You by Scott S.L

Author:Scott, S.L.
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 978-1-940071-98-5
Publisher: S.L. Scott
Published: 2021-01-11T23:00:00+00:00

20

Nick

The drivers in New York are maniacs, so riding through the city with my girl didn’t go exactly as planned. Flipping a cab driver off for almost killing us when he cut into our lane without signaling had Natalie on edge. I swerved into an alley to avoid running into the back of him.

The last thing I want, or need, is to be arrested for hurting a cabbie for threatening us. I promised to keep Natalie safe, and I’ll do whatever it takes to keep it. Despite her arguing that I’m doing otherwise right now.

Pacing, she covers what has to be her fiftieth lap in front of me. “They’re the worst. I mean, sure we need them, but cabbies are crazy sometimes. You can’t just flip off someone because you’re mad, Nick. Maybe that works in LA, but not in New York City.”

She clearly has an impression that all Angelenos are chill. I don’t mind her being that innocent. I’ll let her believe everything is sunshine and palm trees. It is for the most part, so it’s not a total lie. But I’m still not afraid of a mad cabbie.

She stops and looks around. “I need to eat. Nothing good will come of me being hangry. I can promise you that. No sirree, Bob.”

“So I’m learning, and who’s Bob?”

“You guys don’t say that on the West Coast?”

Tugging her by the hand, I pull her close. “Are we back to pointing out our differences?”

Her grin has me smiling. She leans against me and gives me a kiss. “I do rather enjoy discovering our commonalities.”

“We have those in spades. For instance, you like to eat, and I like to feed you. And then I like to eat you.” I kick the stand up and right the Vespa under me. “Get on, babe. Let’s go.”

“Where to?”

“It’s a surprise, something I want your opinion on.”

“I love giving my opinion, that, and free advice.” She winks.

Chuckling, I reply, “I’ll take all your words, free or otherwise, because I’m just happy I get to hear them in person.”

She pulls her helmet over her head, but then leans in and kisses me before she maneuvers to get on behind me. Resting her chin on my back, she adds, “Keep charming me, handsome, and you’ll never be able to shut me up.”

There are many ways I can respond to that, but I say, “Hold on,” instead. I love the feel of her holding onto me, too.

I’m not familiar with the streets here, but map apps are a glorious thing. We make it to the building by taking shortcuts. When I pull into the parking garage, a valet takes our helmets before driving the moped to park it somewhere.

“I’m so excited,” she says, doing a little light step shuffle with her feet. “I literally have no idea where we are or what we’re doing here.”

By the looks of it, she’s right. We could be anywhere. The gray concrete walls and parking spot lines don’t tell us anything. The name of the building—The Pressler—does, however.

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