What the hell am I doing? I donโt do this kind of thing. I donโt invite guys into my home.
Texas is turning me into a whore.
I put on a pot of co๏ฌee, knowing full well I donโt need ca๏ฌeine. But after the day Iโve had, I know I wonโt be able to sleep anyway, so what the hell?
Owen walks out of the restroom, but he doesnโt make his way back to the door. Instead, a painting catches his eye on the far wall of the living room. He walks slowly to it and studies it.
He better not say anything negative about it. Heโs an artist, though. Heโll probably critique it. What he doesnโt realize is that painting is the last thing Adam made me before he passed away, and it means more to me than anything else I own. If Owen criticizes it, Iโll kick him out. Whatever this
irtation is thatโs going on between us will be over faster than it started. โIs this yours?โ he asks, pointing at the painting.
Here we go.
โItโs my roommateโs,โ I lie.
I feel like heโll be more honest in his critique if he doesnโt think it belongs to me.
He glances back at me and watches me for a few seconds before facing the painting again. He runs hisย ngers over the center of it, where the two hands are being pulled apart. โIncredible,โ he says quietly, as if heโs not even speaking to me.
โHe was,โ I say under my breath, knowing he can hear me, but not really caring. โDo you want a cup of co๏ฌee?โ
He says yes without turning to face me. He stares at the painting for a while longer and then continues around the living room, taking everything in. Luckily, since most of my stu๏ฌย is still back in Oregon, the only trace of me in this entire apartment is that painting, so he wonโt be able to learn anything else about me.
I pour him a cup of co๏ฌee and slide it across the bar. He makes his way into the kitchen and takes a seat, pulling it to him. I pass him the cream and sugar when Iย nish with them, but he waves them away and takes a sip. I canโt believe heโs sitting here in my apartment. What shocks me even more is that I feel somewhat comfortable with it. Heโs probably the only guy since Adam that Iโve had the urge toย irt with. Not that I havenโt dated at all since then. Iโve been on a few dates. Well, two. And only one of those
ended with a kiss.
โYou said you met your roommate online?โ he asks. โHow did that happen?โ
He just seems to want to cut right to the core with his heavy questions, so Iโm relieved heโsย nally given me a light one. โI applied for a job online when I decided to move here from Portland. She spoke with me over the phone and by the end of the conversation, sheโd invited me to move in with her and share the lease.โ
He smiles. โMust have been a greatย rst impression.โ
โIt wasnโt that,โ I say. โShe just needed someone to split her rent or she would have been evicted.โ
He laughs. โTalk about perfect timing.โ โYou can say that again.โ
โTalk about perfect timing,โ he says again with a grin.
I laugh at him. Heโs not what I initially expected when Iย rst walked into his studio. I assumed artists were quiet, brooding, and emotional creatures. Owen actually seems very put together. Heโs deย nitely mature for his age, considering he runs a successful business, but heโs also very down-to-earth and . . . fun. His life seems to have a good balance, and thatโs probably the thing Iย nd most attractive about him.
And yet, a conย icted feeling consumes me, because I can see where this is headed. And for a typical girl in her twenties, this would be exciting and fun. Something you would be texting your best friend about.ย Hey, I met this really attractive, successful guy, and he actually seems normal.
But my situation is anything but typical, which explains the mound of hesitation that keeps growing alongside my nervousness and anticipation. I
nd myself curious about him, and every now and then, I catch myself staring at his lips or his neck or those hands, which seem capable of doing a hell of a lot of magniย cent things, aside from just painting.
But the hesitation Iโm feeling is due in large part to me and my inexperience, because Iโm not sure Iโd know what to do with my hands if it came down to it. I try to remind myself of scenes in movies or books where the guy and girl are attracted to each other and how they go from that initial moment of attraction to the point of . . . acting on it. Itโs been so long since I was with Adam, I forget what comes next.
Of course Iโm not sleeping with him tonight, but itโs been so damn long since Iโve even felt comfortable enough to consider someone worthy of kissing. I just donโt want my inexperience to reveal itself, which Iโm sure it already has.
is lack of conย dence is really getting in the way of my thoughts, and apparently our conversation, because Iโm not speaking and heโs just staring.
And I like it. I like it when he stares at me, because itโs been a long time since Iโve felt beautiful in someone elseโs eyes. And right now, heโs watching me so closely and with such a satisย ed, heated look in his eyes, I would be
ne if we spent the rest of the night just doing this and not speaking at all. โI want to paint you,โ he says, breaking the silence. His voice is full of all
the conย dence I lack.
Apparently my heart is worried I forgot it existed, because itโs giving me a loud and fast reminder of its presence in my chest. I do my best to swallow without his noticing. โYou want to paint me?โ I ask in an embarrassingly weak voice.
He nods slowly. โYes.โ
I smile and try to play o๏ฌย the fact that his words just became the most erotic thing a guy has ever said to me. โI donโt . . .โ I release a breath to try to calm myself down. โWould it be . . . you know . . . with clothes on? Because Iโm not posing nude.โ
I expect him to smile or laugh at this comment, but he doesnโt. He stands up, slowly, and brings his cup of co๏ฌee back to his mouth. I like how he drinks his co๏ฌee. Like his co๏ฌee is so important, it deserves all of his attention. When heโsย nished, he sets it on the bar and gives me his focus,
xing me with a pointed stare. โYou donโt even have to be there when I paint you. I just want to paint you.โ
I donโt know why heโs standing now, but it makes me nervous.ย e fact that heโs standing means either heโs about to leave, or heโs about to make a move. Neither of which Iโm ready for quite yet.
โHow will you paint me if Iโm not there?โ I hate that I canโt fake the conย dence that surrounds him like an aura.
He conย rms my fear that heโs about to make a move, because he slowly works his way around the bar, toward me. Iโm eyeing him the entire time until my back is against the counter and heโs standing directly in front of me. He lifts his right hand andโyes, I know youโre in there, heartโhis
ngers brush lightly beneath my chin, slowly tilting my face upward. I gasp. His eyes fall to my mouth before scanning slowly over my features, lingering on each one, giving every part of me from the neck up his complete and total focus. I watch his eyes as they move from my jaw, to my cheekbones, to my forehead, back to my eyes again.
โIโll paint you from memory,โ he says as he releases my face. He takes two steps back until he meets the counter behind him. I donโt realize how heavily Iโm breathing until I see his gaze fall to my chest for a brief second. But I honestly donโt have time to worry about whether or not my reaction is obvious to him, because all I can focus on right now is how to get oxygen back into my lungs and a voice back into my throat. I inhale a shaky breath and realize it isnโt co๏ฌee I need right now. Itโs water. Ice water. I walk toward him and open a cabinet and proceed to pour myself a glass of water. He props his hands on the counter behind him and crosses one foot over the other, grinning at me the entire time I down half the glass.
e sound the glass makes when I set it on the counter is a little loud and dramatic, and it makes him laugh. I wipe my mouth and curse myself for being so obvious.
His laugh is cut short when his cell phone rings. He quickly stands and pulls it out of his pocket. He glances at the screen, silences his phone, and slides it back into his pocket. His eyes move around the living room once more before they land on me again. โI should probably go.โ
Wow.ย is went well.
I nod and take his cup when he slides it toward me. I turn around and begin washing it. โWell, thanks for the job,โ I say. โAnd for walking me
home.โ
I donโt turn around to watch him leave. I feel like my obvious inexperience just killed the entire vibe we had going. And Iโm not upset with myself for that; Iโm upset with him. Iโm upset that he would be turned o๏ฌย by the fact that Iโm not being forward or throwing myself at him. Iโm upset that he gets one phone call, more than likely from Hannah, and he immediately uses it as his opportunity to hightail it out of here.
is is exactly why I never do things like this. โIt wasnโt a girl.โ
His voice startles me and I immediately spin around toย nd him standing right behind me. I start to respond, but I donโt know what to say, so I just clamp my mouth shut. I feel stupid for getting so angry just now, even though he has no idea what was going through my head.
He takes a step closer and I press myself against the counter behind me, leaving the two feet of space between us that I need in order to remain coherent.
โI donโt want you to think Iโm leaving because another girl just called me,โ he says, explaining his remark in more detail.
I love that he just said this, and it makes all the negative thoughts I was having about him disappear. Maybe I was wrong. I do tend to have irrational reactions from time to time.
I turn around and face the sink again because I donโt want him to see how much it pleases me that he wasnโt making up an excuse to leave. โItโs not my business who calls you, Owen.โ
Iโm still facing the sink when his hands grip the counter on either side of me. His face moves close to the side of my head and I can feel his breath on my neck. I donโt know how it happens, but my entire body moves involuntarily until his chest isย ush against my back. We arenโt nearly as close as we were during our dance, but it feels a whole hell of a lot more intimate considering we arenโt actually dancing.
He rests his chin on my shoulder and I close my eyes and inhale.ย e way he makes me feel is so overwhelming; Iย nd it di๏ฌcult to continue standing. Iโm gripping the counter, hoping he doesnโt notice how white my knuckles are.
โI want to see you again,โ he whispers.
I donโt think about all the reasons why thatโs such a bad idea. I donโt think about what my focus should be on. Instead, I think about how good it feels when heโs this close to me and how I want so much more of it. All the bad parts of me answer him and force my voice to say, โOkay,โ because all the good parts of me are too weak to o๏ฌer up a defense.
โTomorrow night,โ he says. โWill you be home?โ
I think about tomorrow, and for a few seconds I have no idea what month it is, much less what day of the week it is. After grasping where and who I am, and remembering that this is stillย ursday and tomorrow is Friday, I conclude that I am, in fact, free tomorrow night.
โYes,โ I whisper.
โGood,โ he says. Iโm almost positive heโs smiling right now. I can hear it in his voice.
โBut . . .โ I turn and face him. โI thought you learned your lesson about mixing business with pleasure. Isnโt that how you found yourself in a bind today?โ
He grins with a very subtle laugh. โConsider yourselfย red.โ
I smile, because Iโm not sure Iโve ever been so happy to lose a job. I would choose his coming over tomorrow night over working for $100 an hour any day. And that surprises me. A lot.
He turns and heads toward the front door. โIโll see you tomorrow night, Auburn Mason Reed.โ
Weโre both smiling when we lock eyes for the two seconds it takes for him to close the door behind him. I fall forward and lay my head on my arms, sucking in all the air Iโve been missing tonight, straight into my lungs. โOh, em, gee,โ I exhale.ย is was deย nitely an unexpected departure
from my usual routine.
A sudden knock on my door startles me, and I stand upright just as the door begins to crack open. He reappears in the doorway. โWill you lock your door behind me? You donโt live in the best neighborhood.โ
I canโt help but grin at his request. I walk to the door and he pushes it open a little further. โAnd one more thing,โ he adds. โYou shouldnโt be so quick to follow strangers into random buildings.ย atโs not very smart for someone who doesnโt know anything about Dallas.โ
I narrow my eyes at him. โWell, you shouldnโt be so desperate for employees,โ I say in my own defense. I lift my hand to the lock on the door,
but instead of pulling it shut, he opens it even further.
โAnd I donโt know how it is in Portland, but you also shouldnโt allow strangers inside your apartment.โ
โYou walked me home. I couldnโt deny you the use of my restroom.โ
He laughs. โย ank you. I appreciate that. Just donโt let anyone else in to use your restroom, okay?โ
I grin at himย irtatiously, proud that I even have it in me. โWe havenโt even been on a date yet and youโre already trying to dictate who can and canโt use my restroom?โ
He shoots me the same grin in return. โI canโt help it if Iโm a little possessive. It was a really nice restroom.โ
I roll my eyes and begin to close the door. โGood night, Owen.โ
โIโm serious,โ he says. โYou even have those cute little seashell soaps. I love those.โ
Weโre both laughing now as he watches me through the crack in the door. Right when the door shuts and I lock the latch, he knocks again. I shake my head and open the door, but it catches with the chain lock this time.
โWhat now?โ
โItโs midnight!โ he says frantically, slapping at the door. โCall her. Call your roommate!โ
โOh, shit,โ I mutter. I retrieve my phone and begin to dial Emoryโs number.
โI was about to dial 911,โ Emory says as she answers. โSorry, we almost forgot.โ
โDo you need to use the code word?โ she asks.
โNo, Iโmย ne. I already locked him out, so I donโt think heโs going to murder me tonight.โ
Emory sighs. โย at sucks,โ she says. โNot that he didnโt murder you,โ she adds quickly. โI just really wanted to hear you say the code word.โ
I laugh. โIโm sorry my safety disappoints you.โ
She sighs again. โPlease? Just say it for me one time.โ โFine,โ I say with a groan. โMeat dress. Are you happy?โ
ereโs a quiet pause before she says, โI donโt know. Now Iโm not sure if you said the code word just to make me happy or if youโre really in danger.โ
I laugh. โIโmย ne. Iโll see you when you get home.โ I hang up the phone and glance at Owen through the opening in the door. His eyebrow is cocked and his head is tilted.
โYour code word wasย meat dress?ย atโs kind of morbid, isnโt it?โ
I smile, because it kind of is. โSo is choosing an apartment based on its connection to a horrorย lm. I told you Emory is di๏ฌerent.โ
He nods in agreement.
โI had fun tonight,โ I tell him. He smiles. โI had funner.โ
Weโre both smiling, almost cheesily, until I straighten up and decide to close the door for good this time.
โGood night, Owen.โ
โGood night, Auburn,โ he says. โย ank you for not correcting my grammar.โ
โย ank you for not killing me,โ I say in response. His smile disappears. โYet.โ
I donโt know if I should laugh at that comment.
โIโm kidding,โ he says as soon as he sees the hesitation on my face. โMy jokes always fail when Iโm trying to impress a girl.โ
โDonโt worry,โ I say to reassure him. โI was kind of impressed as soon as I walked into your studio tonight.โ
He smiles appreciatively and slips his hand through the opening in the door before I can shut it again. โWait,โ he says, wiggling hisย ngers. โGive me your hand.โ
โWhy? So you can lecture me about how I shouldnโt touch strangersโ hands through locked doors?โ
He dismisses my question with a shake of his head. โWeโre far from being strangers, Auburn. Give me your hand.โ
I tentatively bring myย ngers up and barely touch them to his. Iโm not sure what heโs doing. His eyes drop to ourย ngers, and he leans his head against the door frame. I do the same and we both watch our hands as he slides hisย ngers between mine.
Weโre on two separate sides of a locked door, so I have no idea how simply touching his hand can make me have to lean against the wall for support, but thatโs exactly what Iโm doing. Chills run up my arms and I close my eyes.
Hisย ngers brush delicately over my palm and trace their way around my hand. My breaths are shaky and my hand is growing even shakier. I have to stop myself from unlocking the door so I can pull him inside and beg him to do to the rest of me what heโs doing to my hand.
โYou feel that?โ he whispers.
I nod, because I know heโs looking right at me. I can feel his stare. He doesnโt speak again and his hand eventually stills against mine, so I slowly open my eyes. Heโs still watching me through the crack in the door, but as soon as my eyes are all the way open, he quickly lifts his head away from the door frame and pulls his hand back, leaving mine empty.
โFuck,โ he says, standing up straight. He runs his hand through his hair and then grips the back of his neck. โIโm sorry. Iโm ridiculous.โ He releases his neck and grips the doorknob. โIโm leaving for real this time. Before I scare you away,โ he says with a smile.
I grin. โGood night, OMG.โ
He slowly shakes his head back and forth while his eyes narrow playfully. โYouโre lucky I like you, Auburn Mason Reed.โ
With that, he closes the door.
โOh my God,โ I whisper. I think I might have a crush on that boy.
 |
โAuburn.โ
I groan, not ready to wake up, but someoneโs hand is on my shoulder, shaking me.
Rude.
โAuburn, wake up.โ Itโs Emoryโs voice. โย e police are here.โ
I immediately roll onto my side and see her standing over me. Sheโs got mascara under her eyes and her blond hair is sticking out in all directions. Her unexpected, unkempt appearance scares me more than the fact that she just said the police are here. I sit straight up in bed. I try toย nd my alarm clock to check the time, but my eyes wonโt open enough for me to see it. โWhat time is it?โ
โAfter nine,โ she says. โAnd . . . did you hear me? I said thereโs a cop here. Heโs asking for you.โ
I scoot myself o๏ฌย the bed and look for my jeans. Iย nd them crumpled on theย oor on the other side of my bed. As soon as I get them buttoned, I reach into the closet for a shirt.
โAre you in some kind of trouble?โ Emory asks, standing by my door now.
Shit. I forgot she doesnโt know anything about me.
โItโs not the police,โ I tell her. โItโs just Trey, my brother-in-law.โ
I can see sheโs still confused, and that makes sense since heโs not really my brother-in-law. Itโs just easier to refer to him that way sometimes. I also have no idea why heโs here. I open my bedroom door and see Trey standing in the kitchen, making himself a cup of co๏ฌee.
โIs everything okay?โ I ask him. He spins around and as soon as I see his smile, I know everything isย ne. Heโs just here for a visit.
โAll good,โ he says. โShift just ended and I was in the neighborhood.
ought Iโd bring you breakfast.โ He holds up a sack and tosses it toward me on the counter. Emory walks around me and grabs the bag, opening it.
โIs it true?โ she asks, looking up at Trey. โDo cops really get all the free doughnuts they want?โ She grabs one of the pastries and shoves it in her mouth while making her way toward the living room. Trey is looking at her with contempt, but she doesnโt notice. I wonder if sheโs aware that she hasnโt looked in a mirror today. I doubt she cares. I love that about her.
โย ank you for the breakfast,โ I tell him. I take a seat at the bar, confused as to why he would think itโs okay to just stop by without notice. Especially this early in the morning. But I donโt say anything, because Iโm sure itโs just me being cranky due to my late night and lack of sleep. โIs Lydia coming home today?โ
He shakes his head. โTomorrow morning.โ He sets his cup on the bar. โWhere were you last night?โ
I cock my head, wondering why he would even ask that. โWhat do you mean?โ
He glances back at me. โShe says you called over an hour late.โ
Now I get why heโs here. I sigh. โDid you really want to bring me breakfast or are you using it as an excuse to check up on me?โ
e o๏ฌended look he shoots me makes me regret my comment. I blow out an exasperated breath and rest my arms on the bar. โI was working,โ I say. โIย lled in at an art gallery for extra money.โ
Trey is standing in the exact spot Owen was standing in last night. Trey and Owen are probably the same height, but for some reason Trey just appears more intimidating. I donโt know if itโs because heโs always in a police uniform, or if itโs the hardened facial features. His dark eyes always seem to be frowning, whereas Owen canโt seem to help smiling. Just thinking about Owen and the fact that Iโll see him again tonight instantly puts me in a better mood.
โAn art gallery? Which one?โ
โย e one on Pearl, near my work. Itโs called Confess.โ
Treyโs jaw tenses and he sets his cup of co๏ฌee on the counter. โI know the one,โ he says. โCallahan Gentryโs son owns that building.โ
โAm I supposed to know who Callahan Gentry is?โ
He shakes his head and pours his co๏ฌee in the sink. โCalโs an attorney,โ he says. โAnd his son is trouble.โ
I wince at his insult, because I donโt understand it. Owen is the last person I would associate with the word trouble. Trey grabs his keys o๏ฌย the bar and begins making his way out of the kitchen. โI donโt like the idea of you working for him.โ
Not that Treyโs opinion matters to me in any way, but Iโm a little put o๏ฌย that he even made that comment. โYou donโt have to worry about it,โ I say. โI wasย red last night. Not what he was looking for in an employee, I guess.โ I fail to tell him the true reason I wasย red last night. Iโm sure that would upset him even more.
โGood,โ he says. โYou coming to dinner Sunday night?โ I follow him to the door. โHavenโt missed it yet, have I?โ
Trey turns to face me after he opens the door. โWell, youโve also never missed a phone call, and look what happened last night.โ
Touchรฉ, Trey.
I hate confrontation, and my attitude is going to start one if I donโt backtrack.ย e last thing I need is tension with Trey or Lydia. โSorry,โ I mutter. โIt was a late night last night with working two jobs yesterday.
ank you for the breakfast. Iโll be nicer next time you show up unannounced.โ
He smiles and reaches up to tuck a lock of hair behind my ear. Itโs an intimate gesture, and I donโt like that he feels comfortable enough to do it.
โItโsย ne, Auburn.โ He drops his hand and steps out into the hall. โSee you Sunday night.โ
I close the door and lean against it. Iโve been getting a very di๏ฌerent vibe from him lately. When I lived in Portland, I never saw him. However, moving to Texas put me in his presence a lot more, and Iโm not sure weโre on the same page when it comes to how we deย ne our friendship.
โI donโt like him,โ Emory says. I glance toward the living room and sheโs seated on the couch, eating her doughnut whileย ipping through a magazine.
โYou donโt even know him,โ I say in Treyโs defense.
โI liked the guy you had over last night much better.โ She doesnโt bother looking up from her magazine as she judges me.
โYou were here last night?โ
She nods and takes a long sip of her soda, again not bothering to give me eye contact. โYep.โ
What? Why does she think this is okay?
โWere you here when I called you about the code word?โ
She nods again. โI was in my room. Iโm really good at eavesdropping,โ she saysย atly.
I nod once and make my way back toward my bedroom. โย atโs good to know, Emory.โ
