Chapter 2: Natalie
I step out of the library, squinting against the bright sun that reflects off the skyscrapers. Manhattan is everything I thought it would be and more. Something about the hustle and bustle of New York speaks to me.
Getting accepted into the semester exchange program was a stroke of luck. Finishing my last year of university in New York instead of Russia is a dream come true.
Marina was crushed. She begged me vehemently not to go, but with my stubbornness and persistence, she didn"t stand a chance. In the end, she accepted the fact that I was an adult, and there was nothing that could stop me. She transferred quite a generous sum of money to my account, and when I asked if it was from Boris, she just shrugged and shook her head. I didn't push any further.
I pause momentarily on the stairs leading down to the busy sidewalk. People from all walks of life and all over the world pass in front of me, oblivious to what is happening around them.
At home, everyone looks more or less the same.
Here, everyone is different, and that's wonderful. I love the diversity and the big city vibe. I don't know how I will ever return to Russia when I know a place like New York exists.
Spring is just beginning to scent the air, the dew still clinging to the leaves that rained this morning. I dodge a puddle as I walk down the stairs, but before I reach the bottom step, someone bumps into me, sending my textbook flying out of my hands and my papers scattering in the other direction. I scramble quickly for my papers and gather them up, hoping I have them all. The term paper is due in a few days, and I don't have time to reprint all the papers I need.
"Sorry. I should watch where I'm going." A guy holds out my book as I stand up with my papers in hand.
I reach for the book and give him a small smile. "Thank you. I should have watched where I was going, too. I'm not used to everyone being everywhere, but you"d think I would be after the last few months here."
"You've only been here a few months?" His blond eyebrows climb up his narrow forehead and almost disappear under the strawberry-blond hair that flops down. He studies me for a moment longer, making my body tingle. "Do we have a class together?"
I roll my bottom lip between my teeth. "Maybe?"
"Oil painting with Professor Salina?" he asks, snapping his fingers together. "That's where I saw you. I'm Tyler."
"Natalie." I shuffle my book and papers, holding out my hand.
He clasps it in his, thumb drifting over my knuckles slightly before he shakes my hand. "So, Natalie. Where you from?"
"Russia."
He whistles softly and moves to the side when people try to pass him. "No offense, but you don't look like you're from Russia. I thought they were all blond and had blue eyes."
"Not all of them. That's such a cliché." I hug my books tighter to my chest, feeling a little annoyed.
His comments about my appearance remind me of how kids teased me when I was younger. Apparently, my olive skin and dark eyes made me look alien. That hurt, but I'm older now. I swallow the memory and try to put on a friendly smile.
He groans. "I stuck my foot right in my mouth, didn't I?"
"Perhaps a little." I giggle, and the tension eases a little from my shoulders.
"I mean, you are gorgeous. I didn't mean to be rude or anything." He grins and leans against one of the stone railings that line the staircase. "I'm surprised I didn't notice you sooner. I should be punished for overlooking you."
My cheeks warm as I stand on the step below him, looking up at him. "I'm pretty easy to miss."
"Nah." He shakes his head, hair fanning across his forehead. "I'm just oblivious."
I glance at the vintage Mercedes parked on the road in front of the library. "That's yours, isn't it?"
He nods. "Yeah. My grandpa left it to me when he died. You wanna go for a ride?"
Tyler shifts, the gold watch on his wrist catching the light and shining it back into my eyes. I blink and move out of the way a little. Everything about him screams rich boy; at least, that's what some of the other girls in my oil painting class say.
"I can't today." I give him a polite smile, still unsure what to make of him.
"Come on, you can tell me all about Russia and what made you move here."
I laugh a little, his teasing tone starting to grow on me. "It's a complicated story."
Tyler leans closer to me, his arm spanning the railing behind my back. "That's okay. I like complicated. It makes for the most interesting people."
A slight pang of panic runs through me. Even if I could go with him today, I wouldn't be able to tell him my story because I don't know what it is. The tug in my chest reminds me why I came here. To find out more about my family history and my background. But I still haven't found Boris.
My cheeks warm as his fingers brush against my bare arm. "Well, I'll tell you sometime. Go for a drive or something. It's a beautiful car, and I could use some more friends in New York."
The corner of his mouth lifts into a crooked smile, sending butterflies racing through my stomach.
Tyler reaches up, tucking a strand of my hair behind my ear. "I've got a better idea."
"Oh?"
He nods and stretches out his hand. "Give me your cell phone. I'll send me your number and text you when and where we're meeting on Friday evening."
My heart leaps when I pull my cell phone out of my back pocket and hand it to him. I like it when a man takes charge, and it's been a while since I've had a date or a relationship. Painting and studying were more important to me, and after a brief fling with an art student in my second year at uni who was only interested in getting into my pants, I focused more on achieving my goals.
It might be time for me to explore the dating world again.
Tyler's thumbs fly over the screen before he hands my phone back to me. "I'll text you later, and I'll see you Friday night, gorgeous."
He leans in, lips pressing to my cheek before he takes off down the stairs, getting in the black convertible. A few minutes later, my cell phone pings with a text message.
Tyler: Friday at seven. I will send you the name of the restaurant. Enjoy the surprise, gorgeous.
I can't help but smile as I put my phone back in my pocket before descending the last few steps and walking down the street.
I'm going on my first date in New York.