A gentleman, I was not last night. After ordering an abundance of room service and renting a movie, Kennedy and I did what we do best.

We loved each other. I loved her on every surface of the hotel room. The bathroom sink. The shower. The writing table. The balcony –which she was apprehensive about– but my charm won her over. Last, but very much not least, the king sized bed.

She sleeps, perfectly tucked into my side, with her head on my chest. The last time I’ve actually watched her sleep was when I snuck in her bedroom window our Senior year.

I brush her hair away from her face, embedding into my memory every freckle and dip of her nose. “We’re an epic love story,” I whisper.

Her eyes flutter open, and her soft, sincere smile forces my stomach into a somersault.

“We’re an epic love story,” she whispers in her usual raspy morning voice. The one that makes my dick jump in approval. “Good morning.” She stretches.

“How are you feeling?” To relieve some of the aches from last night, I massage her back.

“Thoroughly loved.”

When she stands, I inspect her perfect ass as it sways to the bathroom. She catches me staring, and winks over her shoulder. Upon her return, a plush white robe from the back of the bathroom door covers her body. She lifts the back to expose her bare left cheek.

“I’ve read a lot of erotica in our time apart, but did you have to spank my ass that hard?”

My fisted hands cover my mouth to hide my amusement at Kennedy using the word spank. “Pinks a good color on you.” I raise an eyebrow in defense of my actions last night.

She walks to the bed with purpose glinting in her eyes. “A part of me wants to ask you if I’ve been a bad girl.” Kennedy kisses me.

My hand rests on the back of her head, holding her close. When she leans back, the robe buckles, exposing her perfect tits. I dip my hand beneath the cotton and roll my fingertip over her nipple.

“Don’t act like you didn’t enjoy it, Ken. I saw the blush on your cheeks, and I heard your satisfied yelp. You weren’t in pain, that’s for damn sure.” I gently pinch and kiss the base of her neck.

Kennedy slides over me and lays on the pillow next to mine. The expression on her face makes me want to give her everything she’s ever dreamt of. “If you keep doing things like that, we won’t be able to do all the things I have planned today.”

“And what exactly do you have planned, outside of this hotel room?”

“You’re in the city. I want to explore.”

“What I’d like to explore is you. Here. In this hotel room.”

“I’ve lived in this city for a year. I’ve dreamt of walking through Central Park, holding your hand, or ice skating at Rockefeller Center, or sipping hot cocoa at Serendipity III.”

“You do realize you just described the movie Serendipity, right?”

“I love that movie.”

“Of course, you do, Ken. You’re a romantic.” I groan as I slip out of the bed. When I look down at her smile, I know I’ll do anything she wants. “Get up. Get dressed. We’ve got handholding and super touristy things to do today.”

With a loud squeal, she jumps from the bed, kisses me on the cheek, and runs to the bathroom with her bag in hand.

I dig through the dresser until I find a pair of jeans. Kennedy barrels through the bathroom door as I pull on a plain white t-shirt and my UConn hooded sweatshirt.

“That bitch,” Kennedy shouts. She gives the room a shakedown until she finds her cellphone. She pushes a few buttons and brings it to her ear. Whoever she’s calling, must have answered. “You think this is funny? What am I supposed to do with the shit you packed?”

I wrap my arms around her waist and rest my chin on her shoulder.

“Did you use it at least?” Violet’s laughter sings through the phone.

At her question, I hurry to the bathroom before Kennedy can stop me. My eyes skim the countertops and floors until they land on her bright pink bag. A glance into the room tells me Kennedy’s still distracted by Violet. With a single finger, I poke the pink fabric.

What the heck is all that white stuff?

“What are you doing?” Kennedy’s stern voice makes me drop my investigation.

Startled, I twirl to face her and the aggravated scowl on her lips. She taps her foot while her hands plant firm on her trim hips.

“What’s in here, Kennedy?” I tease.

She leans around me to grab it, but I yank it away before she can reach it. Holding it above my head, I mock her by sticking out my tongue.

“You’re a child.” She huffs. Kennedy’s pupils disappear as they roll behind her eyelids.

“What’s in the bag?” With a quick reflex, I dangle it between us on a single finger.

Kennedy tries again to swipe it from my possession, but I’m too fast.

“Do you really want to know? It could make you jealous.” Kennedy quirks an eyebrow and rests her hand on my lower stomach. A mere inch or two away from my dick, I might add.

My eyes bounce between the girl I love and the duffel bag holding something she doesn’t want me to find. I run through my options. The first is to hand it over, and save Kennedy the embarrassment. I, of course, go with my initial plan, and dig until I find the supposed source of jealousy. My hand wraps around what can only be called soft with rough ridges. My eyes widen, and Kennedy silently pleads with her doe eyes not to pull it out.

“Is this what I think it is?” I ask, but she doesn’t answer. “Kennedy, please tell me what’s in my hand is not what I think it is.”

Her nose scrunches. “It’s in your hand?” Kennedy’s snicker goads me.

And right there, in my hand, is a bright pink vibrator. A rather impressive sized vibrator.

“Why pink?” I toggle it back and forth between my fingers with a grin of satisfaction on my face.

“I didn’t buy it.” She hoists herself onto the marble countertop, slipping the plush cotton between her thighs. With the slight distraction of her incredibly gorgeous legs that seem to go on for days, I regain focus, turning my eyes to her face.

“Who bought it?” Images of another guy purchasing a sex toy for my girl makes my heart pound and my palms sweat. They’re on board to kick someone’s ass. “Kennedy?” My voice sharpens as I question her again. “Who bought you this oversized, unrealistic-for-most-guys vibrator?”

“You’d like to know, wouldn’t you?” She jumps down and runs from the bathroom.

I drop the vibrator into the bag. Besides a bunch of packing peanuts, it’s the only thing inside. Too bad she didn’t think to look last night. We could have put it to use. I need to remember to thank Violet.

Kennedy is dressed in last night’s attire when I walk into the room. Her eyes cast over my hands to find them empty. She shakes her head and grabs her purse from the table. With an overdramatic sling, she throws it on her shoulder.

“You ready to go?” she asks, exiting the room without waiting for me. She’s irritated, but not enough to let the elevator close without me.

“Quit pouting. It’s not a big deal.” I run my pinky over her bottom lip.

“It’s not a big deal that you know I Kennedy myself?” she shouts as the doors slide open, and a middle-aged couple steps in. They pay us no attention.

“What the hell does ‘Kennedy yourself’ mean?” I guide us to the back corner and take Kennedy’s hand in mine.

“You’ve clearly never seen One Tree Hill.”

“What?”

“It’s an expression for …” Her eyes shift down and she runs her fingers over the zipper of her denim shorts.

“I got that, but why don’t you cut the bullshit and just call it what it is? Say it with me. Mas-tur-ba-tion.” I draw out the word, stifling my laugh.

Our elevator guests must have overheard. The woman shifts uncomfortably as the gray haired businessman mumbles, “Amen.” His wife elbows him in the side. Kennedy hides behind her hands and misses their smirks as they step off the elevator in the lobby.

With my hand low on her back, I guide her to my car and set off in the direction of her apartment. At every stoplight, I glance over to where she sits. Her arms are crossed over her chest, and she’s pouting. I love the way her hair falls to one side, and how she bobs her head to the faint music in the background. It’s things like this, the simple characteristics, you don’t forget about a person.

If you were to ask any man on his deathbed, what he remembers most about the woman he’s loved all his years, his answer wouldn’t be something superficial like her pearly smile or long legs. A man’s love is defined by the one thing he notices, yet goes undetected by others, about the woman he loves. The heart of a man is found in a place of love and adoration. The simplicity of a man’s love is where his soul can be found. Mine sits beside me, tapping her fingers to the beat of a song.

Kennedy reaches over to wrap her fingers through mine. Her eyes never leave the window, as though the gesture is second nature. Because holding my hand seems like the only answer to all the questions in the world, she doesn’t have to think about it. I give hers a squeeze as we pull up to her apartment. Hers is much nicer than Bea’s, equipped with a doorman and keyed access to the elevator. I sigh in relief, knowing Kennedy is tucked away in a safe tower when I’m not around.

Violet swings open the door before Kennedy has a chance to use her key. In a huff, my girl pushes past her best friend and heads to her room. Violet takes the shoulder bump in stride, a smirk on her face, and a high-five at the ready when I cross over the threshold.

“Kennedy, you’ve got to admit it was pretty funny,” Amanda shouts before she wraps her hands around my waist.

“Talk to Rico lately?” I kiss the top of her head.

“Shut up. Rico isn’t the marrying type.” She glares up at me.

“You looking to get hitched all of a sudden?” I glance at Violet for clarification. She shrugs her shoulders.

“No, but what’s the point in wasting time with someone if it’s not going anywhere?”

At that moment, Kennedy walks in the room in a fresh change of clothes. She comes to my side, a grimace directed at Violet.

“Oh, come on.” Violet rolls her eyes. “You seriously can’t be mad at me for this?”

“Where did you get all the packing peanuts, is what I want to know.” I step between them.

“That’s not the point.” Kennedy ushers me back to her side. “I can’t exactly wear a vibrator out in public now, can I?”

“Well …” Amanda chimes in.

My laughter warrants me a slap on the stomach.

Kennedy points her thumb between the two of us. “We are leaving.”

By the coattail, I’m dragged from the apartment. Before the door slams behind us, I throw the girls a wave and shout I’ll see them tomorrow at brunch.

“Central park or ice skating?” Kennedy smiles at me when she slides into her seat.

I pop the gear into drive, and set off to Rockefeller Center. Watching Kennedy ice skate for the first time was so adorable, I can’t miss an opportunity to get her into a pair of blades again. The space is crowded, but the attendants are quick to hand us our skates. I help Kennedy to her feet, holding her by the elbow, and get us on the ice in one piece. Her legs wobble as she tries to gain stability.

“For a dancer, you sure have no balance,” I joke, squeezing her hand in reassurance. “I won’t let you fall.”

“And if I do, you’ll catch me. I know.” She winks and turns her gaze forward to concentrate.

I’m not sure how many laps we do, but the growl of her stomach is louder than the laughter and glee of the children around us. I escort her off the ice, and without exchanging a single word, we set off to grab something to eat. In the car, Kennedy grins at me, and an overwhelming warmth settles in my chest. I brought that smile to her face. Small actions have created a morning of laughter and happiness for her.

We pull up in front of Serendipity III, and Kennedy’s head wrenches to look out the window, then at me. “We won’t be able to get in. We should have called for reservations.”

I jump out and circle the car to open her door. Holding my hand, she steps onto the sidewalk, and I lead her into the restaurant. She pulls on my sleeve to stop me, but I tell her it’s okay.

A familiar, middle-aged brunette is at the hostess stand.

“Hi, Rhonda,” I say, using her name tag to refresh my memory.

“Hi, Can I help you?” she says, her voice sweet, but leery of my intentions.

“Actually, you could. I’m hoping you can squeeze us into a lunch spot? I know you’re so busy, and I know it’s asking a lot, but my girlfriend has been dying to eat here since she moved to the city and hasn’t had a chance. I would really love for her first time to be with me.”

“I wish I could.” Rhonda’s eyes narrow on me. A soft gleam tells me she’s beginning to recognize me.

“You may know my grandmother, Eveline Black?” I throw out the name because it’s the only way we are getting into this place at this lunchtime.

“You’re Eveline’s grandson?” Her smile brightens. “Well, why didn’t you start with that?” She nods her head for us to follow her.

“What the hell did you just do?” Kennedy leans into me.

“I used my grandmother to get you lunch. I have no shame in admitting she has more pull than my killer smile and charm.”

Rhonda hands us menus and saunters back to the hostess station. Kennedy’s eyes bounce from side to side as she reads all her choices. “Well, it’s settled. I’m getting the peanut butter, frozen hot chocolate.” Her eyes are lit with excitement, and her smile is blinding.

“For lunch?”

She eagerly nods, and when Rhonda comes to take our order, she does exactly that. I roll my eyes, knowing she’ll be eating off my plate if she doesn’t get her own.

“I’ll have the chicken fettuccine, and she’ll have the …” I squint at her and she giggles. “You’ll want to eat if you plan on walking through Central Park.”

“I’ll have the chicken pot pie.” Kennedy looks to Rhonda, who smirks at our interaction.

Throughout lunch, our conversation never lags of interesting topics. Kennedy explains how her self-defense classes are going. They’ve built up her confidence along with her muscles. She no longer tries to hide. Now, Kennedy holds her ground and makes her presence known. The smile on her face is contagious as the conversation moves to dance.

“It may not be a formal dance group, and I know I’ll never perform Swan Lake with them, but it makes me feel alive.” She takes a sip of the peanut butter concoction.

A small dollop of whipped cream clings to the end of her nose. With the end of my thumb, I wipe it away. The first sip of my own drink makes me groan.

“It’s so good, right?” Kennedy smirks over the top of her mug.

“Do you know which performance is my favorite?” I set my mug down at the same time she does. “Your first.” Across the table, I grip her hands in mine. “Your first performance is my favorite.”

“Why?”

“You looked nervous. You do this cute thing when you’re unsure of something.” She smiles because she knows what I’m referring to. “You scan the crowd, looking for validation or acceptance or whatever it is you seek.” Kennedy focuses on the rim of her cup. “The thing is, you always have it the second you step on the stage. You don’t realize your own worth sometimes, Kennedy.”

“How did you become so sweet?” She searches my side of the table. Her eyes glisten.

“A girl once told me she knew exactly who she believed me to be, and today, I realize she’s right.”

For so long, I’ve blamed myself for things which were out of my control. It’s been easier than facing the reality of the situations we’re dealt. The only hurt resulting from my own actions is when I chose to take my hurt and anger out on Kennedy the night she was attacked. Did my actions create a situation where she felt she needed an escape? Absolutely. And maybe, they led her outside where the darkness swallowed her. What’s taken me a year to comprehend, is Craig set out to do what he did. If it hadn’t been that night, it would’ve been another.

Kennedy does the courteous thing by ignoring my last comment, choosing not to dwell on who I used to think I was, and therefore accepting the guy in front of her now. She steals bites off my plate, and I eat the peas she’s pushed to the side.

“Let’s head out before it gets too cold.” I throw a hundred-dollar bill on the table, waving to Rhonda.

My hand rests on Kennedy’s lower back until I close the passenger door behind her. Through the glass, my eyes fall over the way she smiles at me. I pray she’ll continue to recognize the person she saw all that time ago.