What else could go wrong?

Scanning the mess, I quickly realize why he wanted me to get my stuff. Next to my wallet, between the books scattered all over the wet pavement, are about ten, guilty looking, condom packages.

Mother. Fucker. Shit.
Now I really want to die.

I mean, carrying protection is great, but these aren’t my condoms!

Quickly, I kneel down, keeping my eyes to the ground. Feeling so embarrassed by the whole thing, I don’t notice that Mr. Loafers has done the same until we end up knocking heads as we both try reaching for the condoms at the same time.

“Ouch!”

Rubbing my head, I look up at him and watch him mirroring my movements as he tries really hard not to smile. It’s impossible, really. The whole situation is hilarious, so when our eyes meet, my stomach doing Olympic-level pirouettes, we burst out laughing.

When we stop, we stare at each other for a minute too long. Oblivious to the rain falling down on us, I let myself get lost in the moment and in the color of his laughing eyes. It’s almost as if gravity is suspended and we’re floating in slow motion.

I’m thinking of ways to break this electric silence between us when he clears his throat about to speak, and that’s when it happens.

One moment I’m staring into his eyes and feeling butterflies in my stomach, and in the next we find ourselves drenched in dirty water from the streets of the Bronx.

Yes.

Slimy, smelly, yucky water is on my hair, my face, my clothes, and all over him as well.

“What the fuck, man!” The beautiful boy shouts after the car that just drove past us splashing us with water. He turns to look at me and lets his eyes stare at my wet t-shirt a little too long before we make eye contact again. Instead of blushing or stammering an apology for so blatantly staring, he grins. “Guess we better move. With our luck, if we linger here any longer we might get struck by lightning.”

I’m slow at reacting as he speaks to me because, for one, I am truly stunned by his low baritone voice, and two, the way the light is hitting his wet hair makes the black curls shine like an expensive mink.

I nod in agreement since it seems I have not only lost my ability to think but also speak. Together, we collect all my belongings and put them away.

Yep, even those stupid condom packages.

Once we are ready to get up, he sticks his hand out, saying, “Let me help you up.”

By the time we’re standing, my hand still in his, we look at each other without moving, one willing the other to say or do something, but nothing happens. The rain continues to fall all around us, more heavily now than before, but it doesn’t seem to faze us. It’s like we’re in our own little time capsule, where everything seems to have stopped. I can barely see his face without constantly wiping the raindrops from my eyes as his very tall figure looms above me.

Slowly, his face moves towards mine. Halfway, he stops and looks at me as if asking for my permission to do what I think he’s about to do. My mind is chanting the words, “Kiss me…Kiss me…” as if they are a holy communion. Throwing all logic and caution to the wind, I close my eyes, stand on my tiptoes, and let the moment take over.When we finally kiss, our lips touch so softly, so intensely, so magically, but I don’t feel like lightning has struck me, or that the world has stopped moving. No, the feeling is unique. Special. Like I am being cleansed from the inside out, the rain washing away all my past mistakes, my sorrows, my hurt. And in their place, taking root, is hope.

Magic.

As the kiss comes to an end, my body feels like it’s floating on air and my mind is slightly aware of four facts:

My feet are not touching the ground.

He has his arms wrapped around my waist. Tight.

I just kissed a total stranger in the middle of a busy street.

And last but not least...

It felt amazing!

When he lowers me to the ground, his wavy black hair falls over his eyes, covering his expression. He takes a deep breath as he pulls his hair behind his ears and looks at me. Once again, butterflies are attacking my stomach as if they are bullets shot from within my soul.

I need to say something, ask him for his name and maybe his phone number.

Yes, I definitely need his number.

But all I can do is stare at him, afraid he might disappear. I watch as he lifts his hand and softly cups my cheek. His hand feels like it was meant to be there all along—so natural. Closing my eyes, I feel a warm shiver run down my spine, raising goosebumps on my skin. With my eyes shut, I don’t see that his mouth is close to my ear until I feel his breath tickling it and hear him whisper words that make my knees go weak. His words take me by surprise.When I open my eyes to ask him what he meant, he gives me a cocky smile, and then turns around and walks away, leaving me all alone on a busy street. I feel shocked, breathless, and stunned.

Did I imagine what just happened?

No, I don’t think so.

It was real.

He was real.

I can still taste the tangy flavor of the apple he must have eaten on my lips. I can still feel the warm imprint of his hand on my cheek.

I shake my head and turn around quickly to see if I can make out his retreating figure amongst the sea of people. I want to catch up to him and ask him for his name. I need to know his name. But I’m too late.

He’s already gone.

Suddenly, I feel so alone.

He is gone.

Feeling dazed, and knowing that I must look like a drowned rat, I try to look for a cab. I thought this kind of thing only happened in movies or books, not in real life. At least not in mine.

A cab finally stops in front of me, and I’m about to get in when I feel a tap on my shoulder. Turning around, I come face to face with the last guy I ever expected to see again. Standing in front of me is the stranger I just kissed.

“Hey,” Mr. Cocky Smile says.

The way he’s smiling at me opens a floodgate of shivers as powerful as a storm surging inside me, shivers that inundate my senses, running up and down my body.

I’m glued to the ground, and I think my mouth might be hanging open.

It’s not until the cab driver yells at me that I snap out of my rude ogling trance.

I cannot believe it’s him.

Again.

“Miss, are you getting in or not?”

My attention on the driver first, I turn to look at the handsome stranger, wondering what to say to him, but he speaks first.

“I was halfway to class when I realized I hadn’t asked your name,” he says, watching me closely.

I don’t know what to do or say, so I voice the first words my brilliant mind can come up with, “Um…”

This guy is making my face burn like a bonfire.

“Nope. You definitely don’t look like an Um. More like a Wow.” He smiles, making the same delicious dimple deep on his left cheek appear once more.

How can a guy be this perfect?

If my face felt hot before, now it feels like it’s burning. Forest fire burning. What do you say to that? It’s all kinds of sweet and funny. Come on, Cathy! Say something.

“Ha. You’re funny. You know that, right?”

“No, I wasn’t trying to be funny. I was just stating a simple fact.”

Still blushing, I notice that he’s watching me closely once more. Thinking that there must be something wrong with my appearance, my hands go straight to my hair as he steps closer to me. “I-I…Is there something wrong?” The closeness of his body sends my mind spiraling into an abyss where coherent speech seems to be nonexistent.

Without answering my question, his hand moves towards my face. When his thumb strokes the crest of my cheek, I can feel the softness of his finger against my skin. It has been so long since I felt a guy touch me so tenderly.

I notice his face is much closer to mine than before, his hot breath hitting my lips. He’s watching me with eyes that roam my face as if memorizing every single feature of mine…my nose, my cheeks, and lastly, my mouth.

When he looks up, our eyes connect for a brief instant, and he takes a deep breath. “Um, may I have your phone number?”

“Is she getting in or what?” The cabdriver yells once more.

Without breaking eye contact with me, he addresses the cabdriver, “Give us five, man.”

“B-but why?” I ask stupidly. I know what I want but could he possibly want the same?

“Isn’t it obvious?”

I shake my head because it’s not.

“You really don’t know, huh?” he says huskily.

“Um…”

“Listen, how about this, I’ll let you get in that cab under two conditions. You must give me your number, and you must agree to go on a date with me three days from now.”

Can this really be happening to me?

“But that’s Friday.”

Shouldn’t this beautiful man already have a date for Friday? Only dateless losers stay home on a Friday night. Example. Me.

“So what?”

“It’s a Friday. Shouldn’t you be busy? With a date, or something?”

“I’m trying to get myself a date, but the stubborn girl won’t give me a chance.” Smiling, he looks at me. Like, really looking at me.

“Oh. You want to go out with me?” Holy shit. He does.

“I want to do more than that. But for now, I would be more than happy if you would give me your Friday night.”

“Why?” I blurt the question before I realize that I kind of don’t want to know his answer.

“Why, what? Why do I want to take you out?”

I nod my head yes.

“Besides the obvious.” He pushes himself closer to me and whispers in my ear, “Because I can’t f**king wait to kiss you again.”

Oh.

“Why don’t you do it now?” Shit. Where the hell is this Slutty Cathy coming from?

“Simple,” he says. I can feel the heat radiating from his body onto mine as his eyes roam my face once more. “Because I want to pick you up at your doorstep. I want to bring you flowers. I want to tell you how beautiful you look. I want to see you blush when I compliment you. I want to see you fuss over the flowers while you offer me a glass of water. And if you live with your parents, I want to shake your dad’s hand and tell him that I will take care of his daughter and that I won’t bring her home too late. Then, I will compliment your mother with how beautiful she is. Because only a beautiful woman could have given birth to someone as pretty as you.”

He caresses my cheek tenderly. “Then, you will blush and take my hand in yours to get me out of the house as fast as possible so I don’t embarrass you anymore. When we’re outside, I will take your hand in mine and walk you to my car. I’ll open the door for you, let you in, and then once the door is closed, I’ll make my way to the driver’s seat. But before I start the engine, I want to turn to look at you, sitting there, blushing. I want to grab you by the neck,” his words reflect his actions as he grabs the back of my neck tenderly and brings our faces closer together, “bring your perfect lips close to mine. And then…”

“Yes?” I swallow hard.

“And then finally kiss you,” he whispers huskily, his eyes boring into mine.

Oh my God.

“So, do we have a date?” he says, smiling smugly.

“Yes,” I say breathlessly as my pulse begins to race.

“You won’t regret it, Wow,” he says, smiling.

“My name is Cathy,” I smile in return.

“I like that. You look like a Cathy. Sweet, innocent, and perfect.”

“Oh.”

I seriously want to pinch myself to make sure I’m not dreaming.

“My name is Ben, by the way.”

“Nice meeting you, Ben,” I murmur softly.

Putting my hand out for a handshake, Ben totally rocks my world when he takes it and brings it to his lips, planting a kiss I feel all the way to my bones. Dumbstruck, I let go of his hand and watch Ben step to the side, opening the door wider for me to get in.

Is this guy for real? I don’t know whether to swoon, or burst out laughing. I kind of want to swoon, though.

“Okay. Thank you. I, um, I guess I’ll wait to hear from you?”

“Sure.” He smiles.

After we exchange numbers and say a quick goodbye, I get in the cab and give the driver my address. I feel in a daze as if I’m standing still while the world moves around me at a fast speed.

I feel my phone vibrating. Well, I guess it didn’t die after all. I take my cell out and notice I have a text from an unknown number.

1(347) 886-8688: Hey, Cathy. I meant what I said on the street.

I smile as I remember what he whispered in my ear.

“Too late. Lighting has already struck.”

I burst out laughing, then look out the window. As I gaze at my reflection, I decide that maybe I don’t hate the rain after all.

Ben.

Oh, yes.

Most definitely.Ben: On my way home. Picked up the dry cleaning and some dinner from Past-Tina’s. Wasn’t sure if you’re going to have dinner with Amy and the new guy, but figured you might be hungry when you get home if you didn’t. Good luck, babe.

That is Ben for you, always thoughtful. Looking down at my screen, my fingers hover over the digital keypad on my phone. I really should reply to his text and thank him for thinking about me, but I don’t. Not sure why. Maybe it’s because I don’t feel like starting a text message conversation with him, maybe it’s because I am running late, as always, and I need to get to the airport pronto. Or maybe it’s because I just don’t feel like typing.

Shoving my phone in my Burberry bag, I decide to give Ben a call on my way to the airport. I’ll be leaving as soon as Amy gives me the information on Mr. Radcliff’s flight, anyway. Yippee…can’t wait to meet another Hotel Magnate jerk who thinks the sun rises and sets on his ass.