Stories From The 6 Train 2(6)

Can I actually go through with this? Should I tell Ethan what I've been up to? Sure, he may refuse to talk to me ever again after he finds out—I may never see him again, and I wouldn't blame him. And that's the price I'd have to pay. But maybe he wouldn't react that way. Maybe he'd respect me for coming clean. For realizing the whole thing was wrong. Maybe if he knew how I ended up here, he'd understand.

Suddenly, the elevator opens. I turn my body, facing forward, and I see Cheryl. Her wavy brown hair seems to have a shine to it now; it seems more golden. Is it the lighting down here? She looks over at me and smiles. I smile back.

What kind of a smile was that? I wonder. One minute, she's giving me an icy stare and is interrogating me in the computer room—her eyes gazing at me like they could burn a hole right through me, and now this? She smiled at me as if she has received some sort of validation. Has she come to some sort of realization? My brain is working in overdrive trying to figure out what exactly that smile was all about.

Then, she speaks. "See you at tomorrow's shoot."

It was all so cordial and happy. Where did all of her icy unease disappear to?

"Wait… actually, can I ask a big favor?" she says, looking at Walter and I.

We both look at each other and back at her, and I say, "Sure."

"Is there any way Walter could take me home?" Cheryl asks. "It would really save me from having to get a cab. I'd really appreciate it."

I look at Walter and he looks at me.

"I don't see why not," I say.

"It's no problem, just tell me where to go," Walter says. "I'm assuming you live nearby?"

Cheryl smiles again. "It's not too far. Thank you so much; you're saving me quite a bit of hassle today."

We all walk out of the lobby and to the limo. Walter holds the door open for us and Cheryl and I both scoot into the long, black leather seat. "I could get used to sitting in this every day," she jokes.

Walter drives her to her apartment and I notice that she lives close to Ethan. When she leaves, I'm struck with a thought and I turn to Walter.

I say, "Drive me to Ethan's apartment."

"Are you sure that's a good idea?" Walter asks. He has a look of concern flash across his face. I guess I can understand where he's coming from. I've been an emotional rollercoaster today.

"Yes," I say. "I need to see him."

"Okay, anything you say," Walter replies, and he drives to One57. When we pull up to the massive building, I nearly jump out.

"Thank you Walter," I say. "I'll call you in a little bit."

"Don't do anything I wouldn't do, darling."

I give him a wink and enter the building. I take the elevator to Ethan's floor, and the higher up I travel, the more nervous energy I have. I find myself pacing back and forth in the elevator until the doors slide open and I walk into the hall, directly facing Ethan's apartment. I get the courage to walk forward and I knock. At first, I don't hear a sound, and then I hear his footsteps approaching.

He opens the door.

I see his cobalt blue eyes and that smile.

"I was hoping you'd come," he says. "I have a surprise for you."

Just standing her in front of him. Just seeing him. A flood of emotion runs through me. Is what I'm feeling real? Is this just lust, or something else?

If what I'm feeling turns out to be real … I'll have to tell him.

I'll have to come clean.





Ethan





I’m sitting on the balcony watching something on my tablet. It’s pretty engrossing and I don’t even notice the sounds of the New York City traffic below.

What?

No, you can’t see what I’m looking at.

I think that I already fucking share enough with you as it is, you know? It’s nothing personal. It’s just something that I want to keep to myself for now. I’m sure later on you’ll find out in time.

But let me just tell you one thing.

What’s on this fucking tablet is explosive. I mean, if you saw it, you would probably be fucking pissed at me. Maybe you’d tell me to do something that I’m not prepared to do right now. This book would be over because I’d walk the fuck away if you told me that.

Yes, fine. It has to do with Brittney, but that’s all you’re getting out of me, babe.

Besides I can’t answer any more. Don’t you hear the doorbell? She’s here.

I go inside, make sure to turn off my tablet and put it on the table before opening the door.

She’s standing there in a slinky black strapless dress that comes down five inches above her knees.

It's fucking classy and sexy at the same time. I don't even know how it's fucking possible but it makes me want to hold her close and protect her while ripping it off and fucking her at the same goddamn time.