Hit and Run

Chapter 3

I walked up to Jerome's apartment door. I had been right about my previous analysis. He lived in a nice high story apartment in Manhattan which was no small feat for the the wallet. I was wearing a simple red dress and some black healed boots. My hair was falling down my shoulders mostly untouched and my black leather jacket was wrapped around my shoulders. I knocked on the door and seconds later a smiling Jerome opened the door. 

I could tell he had showered and I noticed he had shaved the tiny spot he missed earlier this morning. His blonde hair was slicked back behind his face and he wore a loose white button down shirt and black pants. 

"Come in, Analiz. I'm glad you could make it." 

I always hated the incessant human need for formality. He seemed loaded with it.

"Thanks" I said.

His apartment was big and neat. The walls were all painted a light grey and the furniture was either white or jet black. I noticed several doorways and a staircase to my left. When I walked in, he lead me to the dining area. There were two dining room tables and he had set the smaller one for two. A white cloth covered the table with a tall candle lit in the middle. I noticed red napkins and cloth place mats folded nicely underneath square shaped plates. So he's classy.

I wasn't sure whether to be flattered or offended by his apparent effort in an attempt to impress me. Particularly after he had told me this was strictly professional. The truth was, every strictly professional thing I did had a layer of play to it. I think that's the role of the artist in a sense.

"Nice house" I said, stepping further into the dining room. I felt him walk up behind me and place his hands on my shoulder. I wasn't sure what he was doing at first, but then he reached for the edges of my jacket and slid it off my back, making sure to trace his hands down my arm as slowly as possible. I liked the feeling of his soft hands against my skin.

"I'll hang that up for you" he said softly into my ear. I knew he was standing much closer than he needed to be and the feeling of his breath against the back of my neck almost made me shiver.

"Thanks" I said quietly. He waited for my response to turn around and walk over to a large coat closet near the front door. I touched the back of my neck. My skin felt warm. I wrapped my hair around the back of my neck to rest on my left side. I walked over to the small table which I had assumed was where we would be eating, but just as I was about to take a seat, Jerome ran up behind me and pulled my chair out. I smiled at him and sat down in it before he pushed it back into place.

"Wait here" he said and ran behind me into the kitchen. The place smelled like spices and oil which provided evidence to support the idea that he had indeed cooked everything himself. After a minute, he walked in with two plates, each one with cut vegetables covered in sauce.

"I made ratatouille. It was my mom's recipe" he said, flashing me his shining white smile. I loved ratatouille. For a split second I wondered how he knew it was my favorite dish, but then I remembered he knew more about me than I was aware of. Part of the reason I had even agreed to come here was to find out the extent of his knowledge.

"I forgot to mention I'm vegetarian, so if you made any meat, I can't eat it" I said as he took a seat directly in front of me. He smirked and pushed a small strand of hair out of his face.

"I know."

Of course he did.

"Bon appetit" he said before spearing a pepper and bringing it to his mouth. I hadn't realized how hungry I was until the plate of food was right in front of me. I used my fork to cut a zucchini and ate it. I was stunned by how delicious it tasted. I quickly reached for another piece of ratatouille without thinking. I heard him laugh softly.