“Okay, bye!” I go up on my tiptoes, and brush my lips against Sanders’. I offer him one last innocent smile, turn my back to him and walk in a straight line toward the Rockefeller Center. Looking back at Sanders, I wave him goodbye, and he waves back at me awkwardly. Then he just stands there, almost as if he intends to spend the whole day frozen in place like a statue, just waiting for me to get out. Sigh - he’s completely irresistible, but he’s also driving me completely nuts. What is it about him?

I saunter through the lobby like a woman with a purpose and head toward the elevators; I summon one of them and wait until a crowd gathers around me. When the elevator doors slide open, there’s some confusion as everyone hurries inside, and I take that opportunity to turn around and walk down toward the back of the lobby.

Erica’s already there, waiting for me. Her sunglasses are perched on her forehead, and she’s tapping her heel against the tiles on the floor impatiently. “There you are, finally!” She cries out as she sees me, sighing in exasperation. “What’s this all about, Stacy? You text me out of the blue to meet you here, and you don’t even explain what’s --”

“Just help me out, okay?” I say, trying not to waste any time with useless explanations. I grab Erica by the crook of her elbow and start dragging her toward one of the exit doors that lead to an alley on the back of the building.

“Where are we going?” She asks me as we step out into the street, the lively New York City atmosphere hitting us like a brick. Squinting her eyes at the morning sunlight, she rests her sunglasses on the bridge of her nose and turns to me, my reflection on the two lens.

“You know, you ask a lot of questions, Erica,” I sigh, walking down the alley. There’s a moment of silence, but then I hear the click of her heels as she chases after me.

“Hey, you’re the one acting all weird,” she protests as we finally step foot on 6th Avenue and start going around the Rockefeller Center complex of buildings.

“I’m just trying to figure out something about Sanders, you know?” I start, walking as fast as I can without making it seem like I’m in a rush. Although, to be honest, I am.

“Like what? It seems like you have it all figured out, girl…” She says, her final words trailing off into a teasing whistle. Sometimes I wish I hadn’t told the girls about Sanders’, uh, prowess. They’ve been teasing me about it mercilessly.

“Oh, shut up, will ya?” I stop dead on my tracks before I’ve finished speaking, and I extend one arm to the side to stop Erica as well.

“Ouch,” she cries out, bumping her boobs against my arm. “What now?”

“There he is,” I tell her, pointing to the end of the street where Sanders is. He’s still standing in front of the main entrance to the Rockefeller Center, looking from one side to the other as if he’s appraising the crowd drifting all around him.

“You know this is a bit creepy, don’t you? I mean, spying on the man you’re sleeping with… That’s crazy-girl territory.”

“I know,” I sigh, lowering my tone of voice until it becomes just a whisper - even though Sanders is so far away that I doubt he’d hear us if we started shouting at each other.

“Then what the hell are we doing here? Do you think he’s cheating on you? Oh my God! He looks like a rascal, that’s for sure. Any idea on who the bitch is?” Erica is just like that: whenever she finds anything remotely amusing, she latches onto it and goes off in a tangent.

“It’s none of that,” I whisper again. I keep my eyes trained on Sanders, not wanting to lose him out of sight; I’m so focused that I don’t even blink, and I start feeling the tears stinging my eyes.

“Oh,” Erica says, sounding almost disappointed. She’s one of these girls that live for drama, I guess. Well, to be honest, we all love a little bit of drama, don’t we? As long as that drama doesn’t touch our personal lives, that is.

“Okay, seriously now,” Erica continues, “what in the hell are we looking for?”

“To be honest, I have no idea. But there’s something he isn’t telling me. There’s something off about him, you know? And I need to figure out what that is.”

“I see what you’re talking about. There’s something abnormal about a guy that can endure a four-hour long sex marathon,” she whistles into the air, bumping me with her elbow teasingly. “Look, Stacy, maybe you’re overthinking a bit. Maybe he’s just a bit weird, you know?. Some people are just like that, little quirks and all, doesn’t mean they’re bad,” she says with a bored shrug.

“Look… Maybe you’re right. But, thing is, I don’t want to risk getting my heart broken. There’s something going on and… I don’t know, Erica, but I don’t want to wake up one day and realize that I have a broken heart. So, whatever it is, I need to know. I need to make sure.”

“Broken heart, uh?” She turns to me, pushing her sunglasses down the bridge of her nose and looking at me over their rim, a flicker of curiosity on her eyes. “You know what all that crazy talk means, don’t you?”

“No, I don’t, and --”

“It means you’re falling in love with him,” she states matter-of-factly, the expression on her face one born not out of concern but out of amusement. Thankfully, this is precisely when Sanders decides to turn around and start walking down the street, head lowered and hands on his pockets.

“Look, he’s moving,” I whisper and, grabbing Erica by the arm, start hurrying down the street.

It’s time I find out what Sanders’ all about.