Draw Me In

by Megan Squires

  “I actually owe you an actual pair of pants.”

  He smiled again and laughed. “I’ll settle for an opinion. I’ll take care of the pants.”

  “I don’t think you realize what you’re getting yourself into, Leo.” I shook my head to warn him. Though I figured we were safe enough in a store so long as I wasn’t holding anything liquid, nothing about being around him felt at all safe to me. I was doomed to play the fool again, for sure.

  “I do realize what I’m getting myself into. A pair of brand new slacks,” he chuckled, dipping his head closer to mine. His aqua eyes gleamed like crystals. “What about you?” Our mouths were mere inches apart and all I’d have to do is pop up onto my tiptoes to mash my lips against his. It took nearly all of my willpower to keep those feet grounded.

  “I’m not getting into your pants,” I breathed, all light and airy like some flouncy seductress. The weird things were playing out in full force and had apparently hijacked my vocal chords.

  “No, Julie.” His mouth was stretched as far as it could go into a wildly heart-stopping smirk. “You’re not getting in my pants.” Speaking of pants, I was pretty sure that was what my breath was doing right now. “But you are going to help me get them.” He held out an expectant hand for me to take. Cautiously, with the hesitation I’d lacked earlier with my words, I slipped my palm onto his. His hands, though slightly rough at the edges and knuckles, were smooth to the touch, much like the soft rasp of his enticing voice, a perfect juxtaposition of tender masculinity. Seriously, was everything perfect about this man? “Come on. We’ve got some shopping to do.”

  ***

  “I like those ones.” I nodded my head excitedly, and then tried to slow it down so I didn’t look like a puppy about to go for a walk. If I had a tail, I’d certainly be wagging it, too.

  “You said that about the last four.”

  “Because I liked those.” I did. I liked everything Leo had tried on. And I liked the thought of what he looked like in between trying those things on even more.

  “You’re really not much help, you know that?” He stood facing the mirror with his chin tilted as he examined the jeans slung low on his hips. They were faded in all the right places and hugged his backside just enough that they didn’t appear tight, but looked as though they were made specifically for his lean, muscular body.

  “I warned you I wouldn’t be. And to be honest, I don’t really think you need my help here.”

  “Yes,” he said, his voice stern, but not at all rude, just authoritative. “I do. I’ve never bought a pair of jeans before.”

  How that was possible, I had no idea. Everyone wore jeans. Hell, I even saw a baby sporting a pair of jeggings last week during my morning walk. Jeans were standard attire for anyone that lived on the planet. Instead of wrapping you up in a knit blanket at the hospital when you were born, they should just throw a pair of jeans on you, because you’d end up spending about 78% of the rest of your life in them. I still hadn’t figured out if Leo actually resided full time in New York or in Italy, but regardless, he was from planet earth, and therefore, wore jeans. I, on the other hand, felt like I’d been floating somewhere out in space all morning as I watched him slip in and out behind his dressing room curtain. I could wear whatever I wanted, a spacesuit being the more appropriate choice.

  “You’ve never purchased a pair of jeans?”

  “No.” He shoved his hands in the front pockets to gain a feel for the stretch and give of them. “My mom did all of my shopping growing up. And I have a personal tailor that comes to the office to fit me for my suits now. This is all new to me.”

  “Maybe you should ask your mom’s opinion on these then,” I teased, waving a dismissive hand in the air.

  “There are a lot of things I’d like to ask my mom, but I don’t think her opinion on pants would make the cut.” Leo’s eyes locked with mine as he twisted around to face me. They were softer than usual, and the dip at the corners made him look like a little boy who’d just been told there was no Santa. “My mom passed almost ten years ago.”

  My hand flew to my mouth. “Oh God, Leo. I’m so sorry.”

  He forced a light laugh with an endearing smile attached to it and said, “You say you’re sorry like you had something to do with it, Julie.” Stepping toward me, he ran a large hand down his jaw and shook off the bleak turn in our conversation. “You like these? They don’t make my butt look big?”

  Well of course by saying that, he pretty much just glued my eyes to his backside, not that they weren’t there already. “No, it’s perfect.”

  “You think my ass is perfect?”

  “Is there any answer I can say now that won’t make me sound like a complete creep? ‘Cause I’m feeling a little backed into a corner here.”

  “You want me to back you into a corner? I think it’s a little soon for that, don’t you?”

  I rolled my eyes playfully, hoping he could pick up on my attempt at flirtation and didn’t think I was truly annoyed. Because I wasn’t. Confused? Yes. Flustered? No doubt. Turned on? Absolutely. But annoyance didn’t fit anywhere into that repertoire of emotions.

  “Is English your second language? Because it seems like you’re having a difficult time interpreting what I’m saying.” I folded the jeans he’d tried on earlier into a neat stack beside my chair, hoping he’d purchase them all because they really did look fantastic on him.

  “Actually, it is. Italiano.”

  Well, if that wasn’t the sexiest thing I’d ever heard, I wasn’t sure what was. He could have said, ‘My dog just crapped on your pillow,’ and I was fairly certain I’d still be drooling. I had to intentionally force the muscles in my jaw to snap shut. I also wiped my chin, just for good measure.

  “We moved to the states when I was fourteen for Mom’s treatments. I’ve been here ever since.”

  He fiddled with a button on his starched shirt, up near the triangle-tipped collar. I didn’t notice the fiddling turn into actual unbuttoning until the top three suddenly sprung open and his smooth, taut chest peeked out through the curtain of the stark-white fabric. He was all solid muscle and curved definition like marble turned flesh.

  I temporarily forgot how to swallow.

  And breathe.

  And talk.

  And basically be human.

  “Can you hand me that?” He was naked now from the waist up, all the lines on his rippling stomach leading toward the V I’d only seen before on statues and in sketches. Ian had a hint of one, but nothing like this thick cord of muscle that wound down Leo’s hips, teasing my eyes toward the denim waistband just below. I suddenly had a new favorite letter of the alphabet.

  Today’s shopping trip brought to you by the letter V!

  “Can I what your what?” Well that didn’t make any sense.

  “Toss me that shirt, Julie.”

  Oh, a shirt. What was a shirt again?

  “I’m a little worried if I stand here too long you’re going to start drawing on me,” Leo smirked, taking three deliberate strides my direction, pants swishing with each forward movement. He swooped down and lifted a faded red tee off the stool at my side and slid his head into the opening, ruffling his hair as it caught on the neckband. “Given your affinity for drawing on naked men and all.”

  Was I on candid camera? Because it was definitely beginning to feel like the most mortifying moment in my life, and given my luck, I was certain it was being recorded for all the world to see. I fluffed up the back of my hair with my hands, you know, just in case this was actually being documented. If I was going to be an idiot, I might as well be a presentable one.

  “Oh. Sorry.” Those were the only two words I could remember how to speak, and one of them wasn’t even really a word, more of a guttural sound or a stifled choke. “Wow,” I breathed as the shirt slid down his body and into place. “You almost look like a normal guy.” From the loose hug of his tee to the easy fit of his worn jeans, down to the bare feet that pressed against the hardwood flooring
below, he actually resembled a normal twenty-four-year old. Not quite normal, because he was still unrealistically gorgeous, but he really made the casual look work for him. That suit and tie intimidation was no longer there.

  “I am a normal guy.” Leo’s smile flashed and his brows shot up and down in a flirtatious, yet mildly cartoon-like, manner.

  “Oh yeah, ‘cause normal guys are heirs to Italian wine enterprises. Hardly.”

  Again, that ‘There is no Santa Claus’ gape fell onto his face.

  “It’s my normal.”

  For a moment I thought I might have actually hurt his feelings. So aside from ruining his clothes, his coffee, and his face, I ruined his mood, too. I really should’ve come with some sort of label upon birth. WARNING: Known to make awkward any situation she may encounter. Proceed with caution.

  “Normal is measured on a person by person basis, Julie.” Leo sank his hands into his jean pockets again, this time not testing them out, but more as a way to relax his posture. “It’s normal for you draw on naked men and spill coffee on strangers. That’s your normal. Mine is running my father’s business.”

  “I’m not normal—”

  He lifted his hands up in mock surrender and cut me off mid-word. “Hey, you said it, not me.”

  “I mean, I don’t normally do those things.” His statement didn’t demand a defense, but I just had to push my thoughts out into the space between us in the form of words. I was more than those things he’d mentioned, and I hoped deep within my gut he wanted to find out what that more was. “You caught me on a couple of bad days.”

  “Do you normally have bad days?”

  “No, but lately I’ve been having a lot of weird days. Compliments of you,” I laughed.

  Leo drew an invisible line on the floor with his big toe, circling it across the ground as some sort of nervous fidget, like he was sweeping sand around underneath his foot. His eyes looped along the same path and didn’t meet mine. “Right. We’ve been over that. I make you do weird things.”

  “Kind of.”

  “Is it weird for me to ask you to lunch?” His foot stopped moving and those ice-blue irises hit mine. How there could be such physical force in a movement that didn’t physically touch you was beyond me, but the heated slam of his gaze against mine caused the most intense, visceral reaction in my core. It carried from my palpitating heart all the way through the searing blaze in my veins snaking throughout my body.

  It also stole my breath. Which then made me light headed. Which forced me to close my eyes and lean my head back against the cool wall to try to shake the reaction that merely locking eyes with him elicited.

  So looking into Leo’s eyes was enough to practically warrant a trip to the doctor’s office. Going to lunch with him might send me straight to the ER. Or the grave. I didn’t want to die today.

  “I think I should pass.” That was nearly impossible—to force out words that were a complete lie. They each felt bitter and acidic on my tongue, like the dishonesty attached to them was a type of poison dripping on my taste buds. I was a terrible liar.

  “You do eat, don’t you?”

  I could see the cloud of worry cross into his eyes as he wondered if I might be one of those girls that avoided food. I had been one of those in my high school years, but the more time I spent around the sculpted curves of the female body in my fine arts classes, the more I appreciated that feminine roundness that clung to my own breasts and hips. I wasn’t heavy, but I wasn’t what one would call skinny. A happy medium of flesh and contour that earned me the right to label my body as womanly.

  “I do eat.” I had to get that out there. “Don’t you have a photo-shoot you’re going to be late for?” If Ian found out I was the one keeping him from his biggest photography break yet, he’d surely have my head on a platter tonight. That might be a bit dramatic, but he’d at least torture me with an hour of wine-induced whining about stealing his thunder or his spotlight or some other thing he didn’t want stolen. I owed it to Ian, and to myself, to make sure Leo got there on time.

  Rotating his wrist to expose the glass face of his Patek Philippe, Leo sighed, much more loudly than necessary. Maybe it was to convey a disappointment in having to leave me. Maybe he just didn’t like having his picture taken. Whatever it was, it was a breathy, airy sigh that fluttered across my cheek, even though he was over a foot away. It was just his breath that reached out to me, but it felt like more of him.

  “You’re right. I should go.”

  It was the answered I expected, but hadn’t wanted to hear.

  So this was it. An odd little mid-morning shopping spree and we were done. He hadn’t asked for my number and didn’t actually even know my last name. So this really could be it for us. I’d returned his dry cleaning, accompanied him to replace his recently ruined slacks, and then given him an honest opinion on just how good he looked in the new ones he’d tried on.

  My job here was officially done.

  If only I could figure out a way to make that my job—being Leo’s go-to gal for awkward encounters and embarrassing mishaps. I knew such a job didn’t exist, but if it had, my lengthy resume would surely put me at the top of that hiring list. I’d completely rock that job.

  “It’s been weird,” I laughed as I stood up from my seat in the dressing room hallway, offering a hand outstretched to him.

  Leo didn’t blink. He pulled his lower lip between his teeth as though biting back what he really wanted to say.

  “But it felt really normal,” he spoke quietly after a labored pause. The soft droop of his eyes contained all the words I wanted to hear.

  That our random meetings meant something to him. That there was an undeniable connection between us, however sudden and startling that might be. That I wasn’t dreaming up this possible something that existed in the form of expectant emotion and hopeful uncertainty.

  We both felt it. It was as real as the heartbeats hammering rapidly through us. But neither of us did anything to prolong it.

  I scooped my purse from the floor and lifted it over my shoulder, wishing he would call out to me as I wove through the maze of clothing racks to exit the store the way they do in movies. That moment of realization when you discover you might be letting something significant slip through your fingertips.

  But that didn’t happen, and I continued to slip further from Leo and what ghost of a connection we’d established as I shouldered my way through the crowded mass of New York’s streets. I also continued to slip in and out of ecstasy and let down as I picked up speed, making my way toward my loft at the end of the block.

  Leo had given me an incredible morning, and a fleeting memory that I quickly needed to make permanent. Not waiting for the reluctantly slow arrival of the elevator in my building, I took the stairs, skipping two at a time, until I rounded the turn to the fifth floor. Blood thundered in my ears and pressed through my veins so violently I could see the thick pulse of it on my wrists and feel it in my neck. It was as though the iron in it solidified, making it almost painful.

  I wasn’t about to let Leo go that easily. Maybe our encounters weren’t enough for him to want to ask for my full name and number, but it was enough for me. Enough inspiration. Enough motivation. Enough kindle to ignite a fire under the tip of my pencil, a blaze across the papyrus surface of my sketchpad.

  Racing to the loft and into my room, I threw my bag onto the bed and reached under the mattress to pull out my drawing board.

  I might have just forfeited my one opportunity to actually have something with this guy by turning him down for lunch, but I wasn’t about to lose the vision he’d given me, and the emotion tangled up within that moment held in my memory.

  With graphite and paper, I let my fingers process my feelings like I’d done so many times before. Drawing usually centered me, calmed me. This time it tore me apart.

  Leo had done something to me, and I wasn’t quite sure what it was.

  All I knew was that I needed him to do it again.

/>   CHAPTER SEVEN

  “Honey, I’m home!” I would have thought it was Ricky Ricardo had I not been expecting Ian.

  The front door slammed into place, shaking the panes of the windows in the loft in a metallic rattle.

  “In my bedroom!” I shouted. I rubbed the tired pads of my fingers together. Deep gray etched into my fingerprints, a swirling abstract maze of skin and graphite. Pursing my bottom lip, I huffed a gust of air to lift my bangs from my forehead and shook the loose strands free from my eyes.

  “Hey, Love,” Ian said, one arm hooked around my doorframe, the other hand holding up a brown paper sack from Lee Wong’s Chinese Food, the restaurant located across the alley. The tangy smell of sweet and sour pork mixed with fried wontons filtered into the room, causing my neglected stomach to roll with a deafening growl. “I grabbed us dinner. And Joshua’s coming over, if that’s okay.”

  “Of course it is. But only if you share.” The hunger in my gut took over and wouldn’t allow me to continue doing anything else until I satiated its noisy call. I slid my drawing pad off of my lap and rested the pencils on my nightstand.

  “Share the food or Joshua?” Ian winked and placed our bag with dinner onto my dresser, thumbing his chin as he approached my bed and said, “Well, what do we have here?”

  “Nothing.” Quickly, I drew up my quilt over the notepad and buried it under the folds of the patchwork fabric. I wasn’t done and wasn’t ready to share it with anyone. Or maybe I wasn’t ready to explain myself. Either way, I just wasn’t ready.

  “That, Jules, is not nothing.” Ian pounced onto the mattress and flung me aside with ease, ravaging the comforter for my latest sketch. He didn’t seem to care that I obviously tried to hide it from him, and he tore back the cover to reveal what I’d spent the past eight hours perfecting. Only problem was, I hadn’t come anywhere near close.