A Beautiful Danger (Beautiful #7)

by Lilliana Anderson

  “And why are you talking about your participation in past tense?”

  “Because I tore my ACL coming off a building a few months ago. Now I’m in no condition to join in.” She turns around and looks down at the training course, sighing longingly. “I miss it.”

  “If you can’t train, why are you here? To torture yourself by watching everyone else do it?”

  With a chuckle, she leans forward, resting her chin on a fist. “This isn’t torture. This is motivation.”

  “Doesn’t tearing your ACL mean you’ll never be able to run again?”

  “It means I’ll always have trouble. But I’m not just going to lie down and die. I’m going to fight. I’m going to get back to where I was.”

  “Like with physiotherapy?”

  “Yeah. And strength training. I’ll always have to strap my knee, but if I’m strong enough and careful not to do anything too stupid, I’ll get back to flying again.”

  “Flying. That’s what he called it too.”

  “Yeah.” She grins. “Because that’s what it feels like.”

  For the rest of the session, we simply watch and comment on what’s going on below. It’s handy having someone who knows about parkour close by, because when I have questions she’s there with an answer.

  I probably should have asked her name.

  “Change your mind?” Flynn asks when he’s done and I’ve joined him on the floor.

  “Not yet. It’s cool to watch though.”

  “So one surfing lesson, one shark dive, and you’re sidelined?”

  We head toward the exit. “No. I’m just... I’m trying to change my destiny.”

  “Why do you want to do that?”

  I stop walking for a second. Something about this conversation seems oddly familiar.

  “Have we had this talk before?”

  “I don’t think so,” he says. But I’m sure we have. In my memory, I’m seeing flashes of us walking along in the dark. His arms around me.

  “We have. At the party. I told you I’m trying to change my destiny and that... oh wow.” The conversation slowly clears in my mind. “I told you that Joel is too nice for me and... I think I called you a low-life.” My hand covers my mouth. “Oh God. I’m so sorry about that.”

  “Don’t mention it. You said a lot of random stuff.” He glances at me, fighting a smile. But the dimple is there. That dimple.

  My eyes go wide. “Tell me I didn't say what I think I said about your dimples and your eyes.”

  “Let’s see. You said my eyes were lovely, and I recall something about my dimples ‘slaying you’.” His smile turns into a chuckle.

  I stop walking and lower myself to the ground, crossing my legs. “This looks like a good place to die of embarrassment. I don’t need to know any more.”

  “You don’t remember past that?”

  “No. Not yet. Hopefully not ever. Why? Was it bad? Did I try to...?” I squirm where I sit and make a face that I hope he understands as me hoping I didn’t try to jump his bones.

  “No,” he replies straight away, understanding exactly what I meant. “It was nothing like that. You were just sad about your best friend leaving. It happens to the best of us.”

  “Was that when I asked you to move in?”

  “Pretty much.”

  “Did I tell you anything else about me?”

  “Is there something I should know? Do you sleepwalk naked? Because I could kind of get on board with that one.” He flashes those dimples of his again, but I don’t see that glint in his eye. He’s hiding something, I know it.

  “Tell me, Flynn. What did I say to you?” My voice is calm, my eyes serious as I track his movement when he squats in front of me.

  “You said you didn’t want to be alone. That you’re scared to answer the door.” His tongue darts out and licks his lips. Something about the flash of pink mesmerises me and I’m noticing how soft and full his lips look.

  “Did I tell you why?” My voice comes out in a whisper. Before he can answer, I already know—I trusted him with the worst thing that’s happened to me.

  When he swallows, I notice his Adam’s apple bob in his throat. “Yes, Ruby. You did.”

  Averting my gaze, I feel awful. Why did I trust him when I can’t even bring myself to tell Joel?

  “This isn’t going to work out.”

  He lets out his breath, an agitated sigh.

  “Us living together,” I clarify.

  “I know what you meant,” he says, his voice a little firmer than it was before.

  “Good. So you need to call those movers and get them to come back and get your stuff.”

  “No.” He stands and places his hands on his hips.

  “It’s my apartment.” I stand as well, mirroring his stance.

  “And I have a key.”

  “Let’s get one thing straight,” I start, ready to tell him that I make the rules in my life and that he doesn’t have any sort of say in them. But he raises his voice over the top of me.

  “Yes, let’s. I am staying at your place for one reason only—”

  I cut in, pointing my finger up at him. “Don’t give me that bullshit about your place getting fumigat—”

  “That reason is you. I’m here because I care about you, Ruby. God only knows why since you treat me like shit, but I like you. And, despite your protestations, I know you like me too. Somehow, by the end of these two weeks, you’re going to admit that—not to me, but to yourself.”

  “And if I don’t?”

  “Then I’ll get out of your life. For good this time.”

  I suck in my breath and take a step back, an involuntary reaction to the idea of having him gone from my life. I’ve kind of gotten used to having him around.

  “I’ll see you in the car.”

  22

  SITTING IN FRONT of my computer, I pull up Gumtree Classifieds and search the room to rent listings. After Flynn drove me back from the parkour gym, I retreated to my room, reading my inspiration board while asking myself exactly what I want.

  Yes, there is something between Flynn and me. I can admit that. It’s on the primal level, meaning that the sex would be amazing, and the relationship would be crazy—all-consuming, even. If I close my eyes, I can see it in my mind, the intensity and the passion that his eyes promise. But I’m not looking for someone to consume me. What I’m looking for is change—I want my heart and my mind to be at peace.

  ‘A happy life must be to a great extent a quiet life, for it is only in an atmosphere of quiet that true joy dare live.’ Bertrand Russell said that. He’s a British philosopher who died way before I was born, but his words ring true no matter what century they’re said in.

  With that in mind, Joel stays. Flynn goes. It’s the way it has to be.

  Scrolling down the webpage, I scan ad after ad, trying to get ideas for how I want to advertise Coral’s old room. I have two weeks to get someone in here so Flynn can’t possibly change his mind and stay. Two weeks to get this guy out of my life. Then two weeks to get my head on straight before Joel comes back. That’s one whole month to say goodbye to whatever this thing between Flynn and me is.

  One month to end this.

  It’s the right thing to do.

  Even though Flynn is probably the most beautiful man I’ve ever laid eyes on.

  Even though he sets my skin on fire whenever we touch.

  Even though he sneaks his way into my thoughts far more than he sneaks his way into my life.

  Even though he will pretty much do anything he can to spend time with me.

  Even though he wants me so much I can feel it buzzing off his body.

  Even though....

  If I keep thinking like that, I’ll convince myself that Flynn is an option for me.

  He’s not.

  Clearing my throat, I squint at my screen, focusing on this damn ad. The last ad I wrote and put on Craigslist was simple. It explained that I wanted a female roommate and listed the apartment’s amenities, w
hich are basically a bathroom, kitchen and Internet—nothing special. I should probably just do that again, but I’m not exactly sure what I want in a roommate this time. If I wrote what I really wanted, the ad would say ‘Wanted – my old flatmate back’ or ‘Wanted – a flatmate I’m not even moderately attracted to’. But neither of those headings seems at all appropriate. Instead, I try to think of a way to draw in the kind of person I’m willing to share my home with.

  As I’m mulling over my words, my phone goes off and Joel’s smiling face appears on my screen. “Hey, you,” I say with a smile of my own as I press the phone to my ear, appreciating his timing.

  “Hey, gorgeous. Miss you.”

  “Me too.” My smile grows and I close my eyes, lying back on my bed with a sigh. “When can I come and see you?”

  “You’re thinking about making the trip down here now?”

  I hadn’t been. But hearing his voice and knowing Flynn is just on the other side of my door makes me feel like leaving for a couple of days could be a good thing. The flight is only ninety minutes long; I can suck it up and do that. Especially since there’s never been a crash in this country along that route and that, statistically, planes are safer than cars and I get inside cars all the time....

  “I have a bunch of holidays I haven’t taken from work, so I figure I can cash a few in and come spend some time with my guy.”

  “I’m happy to hear that.” I can hear the smile in his voice.

  “So, how are things going on your end?”

  “Fine. All I’ve managed to do is get here.”

  “Is the apartment nice?”

  “A bit sterile but nice enough. It’ll feel better when I have company, I’m sure.”

  “I’ll bring a throw rug or something to brighten the place up,” I offer, feeling very domestic and grown up for suggesting such a thing.

  “Sounds perfect. It’s freezing here and I don’t know how well the heating is working. Enough about me, tell me about you. What are you doing to occupy yourself at the moment?”

  “Besides talking to you, I’m on Gumtree writing out an ad for a new roommate.”

  “What have you got so far?” I can hear him moving about—the shuffling of papers, movement of fabric. I’m guessing he’s unpacking while we chat.

  “I haven’t. I’m just doing research so I can decide how I want to word it.”

  “Well, maybe I can help. What are you looking for?”

  Setting my laptop on the end of my bed, I roll over to my stomach to get comfortable. “For starters, I’d like someone who can string a sentence together. Some of these ads are ridiculous and sound like they were written by a four-year-old with a crayon.”

  He laughs. “That bad, huh?”

  “Well, a couple of them sound a little lecherous. Like two men seeking one female to join their ‘fun, party-style’ apartment. That sounds like they’re pimps looking for girls to me.”

  “That wouldn’t surprise me in the slightest.” His chuckle filters into my ear, warming my previously nervous insides, grounding me.

  Clicking on the link, I frown when the photos come up. “Do you think I should report this? The photos look like they’ve been lifted from the Internet. They’re just of people partying. In particular, they’re of scantily clad women looking like they’re having the time of their lives.”

  “Well, they did say it’s a party house,” he jokes.

  “I’m being serious. What if some naïve girl really believes this?”

  “Report it,” he says with conviction.

  Moving my pointer to the Report button, I click, my conscience appeased the moment my comment goes through.

  “Done.”

  “Proud of you,” he says, his voice changing slightly as he shifts the position of his phone. Then I hear a thud, an obscenity, and then some static before his voice comes back. “Sorry, dropped my phone. Do you mind if I call you back tonight? I’m trying to unpack, and then I have a client meeting.”

  “Of course. I’ll talk to you then.”

  “Definitely. Oh, and Ruby. Maybe put off writing that ad until we can talk some more, OK?”

  “Why?”

  He chuckles. “Tonight. We’ll talk tonight.”

  “You can’t be all cryptic like that.”

  “Goodbye, Ruby.”

  “Goodbye,” I concede, hearing the call disconnect moments after. With a smile, I look at my phone.

  “How’s that ad going?” Flynn’s voice scares the shit out of me. He’s in my doorway, leaning against the frame, his strong arms folded across his chest.

  “I’m just looking for ideas,” I answer before thinking. Then add, “What are even you doing there?”

  “Why do you need ideas?” Ignoring my question, he walks into my room even though he wasn't invited and takes the laptop.

  “Hey,” I complain, grabbing at the newly vacated air.

  “Let me see what you have so far,” he starts, peering at my screen as he takes a seat on my dressing table chair. When he sees the ad that’s open on my desktop his brow lifts. “This sounds like they’re looking to film a porno.”

  I lean over and take possession of my laptop back. “Right? There are, like, three other ads the same. I reported the user because it’s suspicious.”

  “Sucks to be a woman these days.” He stands to leave.

  Meeting his eyes, I frown a little, the memories of my own shitty past getting the better of me. “It shouldn’t. Men should stop thinking with their dicks and their muscles because might doesn’t make right. It just makes you a predator.”

  He takes a breath, studying my expression before he responds. “Me, or men in general?”

  I shrug. “In general, I guess.”

  “And what about your man, Jack?”

  “Joel. And no, he’s not like that. Actually, he dedicates his free time to training women in self-defence.”

  He reacts in a way that tells me this isn’t news to him. “Sounds like he could probably kick my arse.”

  A memory niggles at the back of my mind. I think I told him Joel could kick his arse while I was drunk the other night....

  “How long were you even standing in my doorway?”

  “Long enough to know you were making plans to go to Melbourne. You’re that afraid of what’s between us?”

  “I’m not afraid.”

  “Then why are you trying to run away?”

  “I’m not running away. I’m a grown woman. I can make any plans I like, whenever I like.”

  “I'm asking you for two weeks of your time, Ruby. Two weeks without anyone else around.”

  “And who are you to ask that, Flynn? I’m not going to cheat on my boyfriend for you.”

  “That’s not what I’m asking you to do.”

  “Then what do you want? Why do you need these two weeks so badly?”

  “Because I want you to give me a fucking chance, Ruby. You have some preconceived notion of who I am in your head, and that’s not me at all. This way, you get to know me without any distractions.”

  “Why is what you want more important than what I want?”

  “This is what you want. You just won’t admit it to yourself.”

  “This is stupid.” I throw up my hands, dropping them so they hit my thighs with a slap.

  “So is stringing some poor guy along while you deny your own feelings.”

  “Fuck you, Flynn.”

  He looks at me, his dark eyes even darker. “Eventually, yes.”

  A shiver runs down my spine. Then he leaves.

  ***

  Flatmate Wanted. Chatswood area. Close to public transport. Own Bedroom - furnished. Shared Bathroom & Living Areas. Must be gainfully employed and willing to undergo police check; otherwise, no restrictions on age or gender. No pets allowed. Call Ruby 04## ### ###

  I stare at the simple-worded copy on the screen in front of me. My head hurts. After Flynn came in and pushed all my buttons in a bad way, it took me forever to just get those word
s down. At least they’re all spelled correctly.

  Attaching a few basic photos of the inside of the flat, I hesitate. Joel said to hold off on posting the ad. Maybe he wants me to run it by him first?

  Mulling it over in my mind, I decide that the only person’s business it is who I select as a housemate is mine. So I hit the List button and watch the page load into the completed listing.

  Nerves swirl about in my stomach the moment it goes live. I have a brief moment of hoping Joel won’t be mad at me. But I push that to the side—Joel isn’t like that. The only thing to really be nervous about is the fact that I’m going to have to meet and interview people I don’t know.

  While I deal with new people every day through my job, I don’t generally invite those new people to live with me based on a brief meeting and a police check. It’s a nerve-racking situation and one I’d hoped I’d only do once—with Coral.

  In the beginning, I was expecting my fears to die down and my desire for privacy to win out. But the longer Coral stayed, the more I realised that I need people.

  I need people.

  Glancing over at my bedside drawers, I see the pile of books there. A couple of fiction novels for my entertainment sit on top of two self-help books that have their spines facing the wall so anyone entering my room can’t see them. I’d put them that way because I knew that if Shane saw the titles he’s tease me mercilessly. Now I’ll keep them that way because Flynn seems to have boundary issues and he already knows more about me than my own boyfriend does. That in itself is a troubling thing.

  Reaching out, I pick up the self-help books, leaving the novels on top of the beech drawers. One of the books deals with daddy issues and the other deals with overcoming fear. There are pages with dog-eared corners and passages that are highlighted—I’ve read both several times. I don’t know what it is I expect from them. I just know that after the final attack by Tony, I felt like I needed help and I couldn’t afford a shrink, nor did I really want to go to one. I wanted to deal with these feelings on my own. Just like I have all my life.

  Flipping through the pages in The Confidence Gap, a printed square falls out—one of my inspirational quotes that didn’t get pinned to my board—the words ‘The key to success is to focus our conscious mind on things we desire. Not things we fear – Brian Tracy.’ I don’t know who that guy is, but I like the quote. Though I don’t remember why I put it in the book instead of on my board.