by T Gephart
“Yeah, definitely some other time.” He nodded slowly.
His body was a mass of contradiction; his mouth was saying no but other parts—the heat in his eyes, the tightness in his shoulders—was saying otherwise.
And what did “some other time” mean? Was that a no? Maybe? Later? Could all of it be a timing issue? I was confused because surely he’d felt the connection between us. Didn’t he at least want to explore the possibility of what it could be?
“Sounds good. Well, I’m going to get going unless you need me for something else.” I tried to ignore the double entendre I hadn’t intended.
“Nope, all good here.” He started to pack things away. “Thanks for all your help today.”
“My pleasure. See you tomorrow.” He turned, his attention on packing up and cleaning.
Like nothing had ever happened.
Maybe he was just super sexy, friendly and intense with everyone, and I was just reading more into it. Maybe I needed to sit in on a tattoo with Dallas and see if the same sexual tension sliced through the air. It was either that or there were some funky pheromones in the ink that acted as aphrodisiacs. Honestly, I had no idea.
I guess it was going to be a learning experience on a few different levels, and I was really, really going to need to find another distraction.
Josh
TWICE.
Motherfucking twice she’d been so close I could almost taste her and didn’t.
Oh, I knew why I didn’t. Me and my fucking bright ideas about keeping the lines from blurring. I had no one to blame but myself, because from all the signs she was throwing, it seemed like she wanted it too.
I wasn’t even sure why I was still fighting it. But I’d made the stupid decision that I was going to wait until she was back at the gallery before I asked her out, and I was going to stick to it. Just so there was no confusion. For one, I didn’t need the liability if this all went pear-shaped. Dallas and Tess had been proof enough that you shouldn’t mix business with pleasure. And there was another part of me that wondered if this wasn’t some knee-jerk reaction and a way to get her confidence back. Not that I was worried this was her version of slumming, but I didn’t think I was her usual flavor. What was even worse was that I was totally okay with that. Happy to be used.
So, day after day we did this stupid dance, where we both seemed to ignore the attraction and pretend like there was nothing going on.
Shit would start with her bringing coffee in the mornings. Big smile, happy to be there, and I’d force myself to take the cup, thank her and not kiss that beautiful mouth.
Then like a pussy, I’d give us the buffer of space for a while. She’d do paperwork or some other job I hadn’t asked her to do but had discovered needed doing, and I would work in my room with an erection that could cut glass. It was a great system, so productive and pleasant for everyone, especially for my balls who were threatening to go rogue if they didn’t stop being ornamental.
It was usually around lunchtime when I’d delude myself we could be in the same room and none of the sexual tension that had been there earlier would still be there. And every fucking time, like a revelation, there it was. Front and center, waving a pair of semaphore flags SOSing from my dick.
And yet I didn’t stop the torture, loving her eyes on me while I worked.
Another thing, while I still hadn’t seen the original drawing she’d done of me, she’d taken to drawing in every spare minute. She didn’t catch me sneaking a peek but I saw the pages and pages she’d worked on during the last few days.
Flowers, faces, buildings—there didn’t seem to be a theme, just restless hands keeping busy while she was at the front counter or streamlining the point of sale program at the desk.
“Water lilies?”
It was noon, so about time to end my room seclusion. She hadn’t heard me approach, the temptation to look over her shoulder too great.
“Shit, you scared me.” She grabbed at her chest, her tits getting pushed together for an even better view.
S-O—Fuck.
Every single time.
“Let me see.” I didn’t give her the chance to shove this one down her top as I spun her sketchpad toward me and got a better look.
It was in grey scale, shadow and light the only thing used to hint at depth, texture and color. But what I was looking at was a pond, full of reeds and water lilies; tiny ripples breaking the water’s surface.
“Eve, this is fucking beautiful.” I picked it up, bringing it closer to inspect. “It feels like I’m looking at a dream.” It was both peaceful and surreal.
“That would be because it’s Monet.” She laughed, “It’s not my original work.”
“Neither was the Botticelli.” I smirked, reminding her that it had been my version of a different master that had made her walk through my door.
“It’s actually what prompted the picture.” She shrugged, tapping her pencil on the desk. “That, and what you said earlier in the week about just drawing what I see. Not trying to sell it.”
“You know this is good, right?” She looked surprised as I placed the sketchbook back in front of her, a smile spreading across her face. “That even though it’s not your idea, it’s still your skill. Unless you dug up Monet and he’s hiding under the desk.”
It was so different to the stuff I’d seen online from her exhibit. Literally like night and day. And not just because it was in a different style.
“Nope, there was no grave digging involved.” She spun around the page and looked at it herself. “Just me.”
“Full disclosure, I Googled you,” I admitted, having done so on her suggestion. “And your other stuff . . . well, it wasn’t great.” I winced, not wanting to cut her down further when so many people had already done that.
“I know,” she groaned, throwing her head back and closing her eyes. “That’s probably the kindest thing that has been said about it.”
“That stuff felt like I was looking at a picture. 2D. It felt like reading a phone book.” I saw the flicker of hurt in her eyes when I said the last part. “But this one felt like you captured a memory.” I pointed to the page. “It’s not just what’s there, it’s like there is something I can’t see as well.”
“Well, that’s great.” She mock laughed, my compliment obviously missing the mark. “Maybe I should be an art teacher or reproduce other people’s work. Because unless I can do this with my original pieces, there isn’t much point.”
“You’re missing the point.” I shook my head. God, she was beautiful but she was so freaking defensive.
“Which is?” The words dripped with sarcasm as her hands moved to her hips, her head tilting to the side.
“There is passion and feeling in this, all the things you said you needed. So it’s in there.” I tapped the side of her head, both loving and hating the excuse to touch her. “What were you thinking about when you drew this?”
“I wasn’t thinking.” She rolled her eyes. “You told me not to think about it, so I didn’t. I just . . . I don’t know, it just happened. I started with water and then before I knew it I was looking at a Monet.”
“I’m still a little in shock that you listened.” I barked out a laugh. “I know how much you looooooove being told what to do.”
“I listen.” She elbowed me before adding, “Sometimes.” Her lips twitched into a smile.
“Good, then I feel privileged to be one of the few.” And wasn’t that the truth. Glad something I said had left a mark.
“I thought only Dallas gloated.” She smirked folding her arms across her chest, another smile making its appearance.
On cue, the man in question emerged from his room, his Beats slung around his neck.
“I heard my name, we talking about how awesome I am?” He grinned at Eve, the bastard showing her more interest than I liked.
“We were talking about whether you had anything blacker in your wardrobe.” Eve bit her lip, eyelashes batting at him playfully. “You always look li
ke you’re going to a funeral.”
“Maybe I am.” He imitated Johnny Cash perfectly, making Eve laugh hysterically.
Great, now they were both flirting with each other, the day couldn’t get any worse.
The asshole pulled up a chair and started flipping through Eve’s sketchpad. “So, what are your plans for tonight? Nice water lilies.”
“Thanks.” She gave him an unconvincing smile before addressing his earlier question. “And yeah, I’m meeting up with friends tonight.”
“Hot date?”
Dallas’s question was the exact same thing I’d been thinking. Of course I’d never ask so maybe having him around wasn’t such a bad thing after all.
“God, no,” she said quickly, my mood suddenly improving. “Just some of the girls.”
He leaned over the counter, chin on his fists as he smirked at her. “Oooooo, I like the sound of this. Can I come?”
“You are not a girl. So, no, sorry.” She grimaced, shuffling all her papers into a pile and then packing them away.
I’d never been so glad to hear Eve’s company that evening was going to be female.
“Well, there you go, Dallas. Either schedule a sex change or find your own party tonight.”
Dallas rolled his eyes, throwing his hands in the air. “Fine, be like that. Josh and I will hang tonight without you.” He pointed in her direction. “It’s going to be so awesome, you’ll be jealous.”
“Me?” I laughed at Dallas, shaking my head. “Sorry, new phone. Who is this?”
Which just made Eve laugh harder.
I liked the sound of that, liked the way her eyes lit up and how her shoulders relaxed. And I was glad I had been the reason.
“Okay, okay.” She wrapped her arms around her sides, struggling to breathe. “I need to order lunch before your next appointments arrive. I found a place that does Korean barbeque down the road, who’s game?”
“Hell yeah.”
“Absolutely.”
Dallas and I both answered at the same time.
She picked up the phone and started dialing. “You boys are so easily pleased.”
If she only knew how easily she could please me.
Eve
TIME HAD BOTH RACED AND STOOD STILL, which I knew was impossible and yet there was no other way to describe it. But as days had turned into the end of my first full week, I felt like digging in my heels and trying to slow it down. At this rate I’d be back at the gallery in no time and I wasn’t ready. Even if I’d wowed Josh with my mindless doodles, it wasn’t like I’d done anything real or tangible. It was just messing around.
The other side of that coin, the one where I felt like I was dragging ass? Was that every single minute I spent looking at him and not touching him felt like an eternity. Our thirty-minute lunches where we’d sit and eat, felt like they lasted hours. Thank God Dallas was there most of the time, breaking up the weird staring contest we always seemed to get into.
We didn’t even have to be alone. The times where I’d watch him work in his room were the hardest. He’d be so close, and yet so unattainable. Always keeping his distance so there wasn’t even the possibility of kissing.
It was driving me crazy.
Which is why I was so thankful when my prearranged Saturday night arrived. Kitty, Lana, Heather and Kristen had met me as promised. Same bar, same time, same mission. And this time, I was definitely going to get laid.
“All right,” Heather set down the shots on the table. “Let’s get this party started.”
“We’re doing shots now?” Lana picked up the glass and sniffed the clear liquid. “Jesus, Heather, tequila? Are you trying to kill me?”
“Oh, stop being such a baby.” Kristen swallowed hers without waiting for the rest of us. “I know for a fact you used to do like ten of those in college.”
“That’s right, college. I’m not twenty-one anymore.” She sipped the shot, screwing up her face as the tequila hit her tongue. “Give me a cocktail, I can’t drink this shit. It makes me want to gag.”
“I’ll do it.” Kitty took care of Lana’s shot before following with her own. “Happy to take one for the team.”
“Kitty, you are not allowed to get drunker than me.” I swallowed the tequila quickly, the burn traveling down my throat. “It’s my turn to be irresponsible and I can’t compete with you.”
“Then drunk you shall be,” Heather insisted, waving over a waitress. “Is this about your lack of sex, the critics or the fact you want to sleep with your hot boss?” She took her shot, slamming her glass on the table. “Just so we are all on the same page.”
Stupidly, I confessed I might, might think Josh is hot as fuck. See what I mean, I was basically a walking hash tag. My friends—whether they would remain so by the end of the night was still debatable—decided to take that part of the conversation and run with it. Totally ignoring how I was still trying to find my groove again, and how I was a little freaked out about returning to the gallery. You know, ignoring the important parts of the conversation for the more trivial ones I couldn’t control. My need to have Josh’s hands all over me, the biggest one.
“I say you go in there early,” Kitty weighed in with advice. “Lay on his chair naked.”
“Yeah, because he said no to dinner a few days ago but he’ll be totally cool with sex in his place of business.” I shook my head refusing to leave myself so exposed. Both literally and figuratively. There was no way I was drunk enough to even consider it.
“Fine. Then lust him from afar.” Kristen laughed, the next round of drinks being delivered to our table. Thankfully they were cocktails this time so Lana didn’t complain.
“Ugh, I need to get laid. It’s been almost two weeks since I broke up with Oliver. How long have I got where it’s no longer rebound sex? I don’t want to miss my window.”
“I think after a month it’s sort of just sex, Eve.” Kitty laughed, her timeline freaking me out.
“One month!” I reared back in horror, almost able to hear the tick-tock of the clock breathing down my neck. “Maybe we need to move back to shots, I’m not leaving here until I find someone.”
The idea was stupidity at its finest. And one that I could only believe was perpetuated by my growing sexual frustration—I honestly couldn’t ever remember being this worked up—and the drinking.
The smart thing would have been to stop the drinking.
But clearly I wasn’t interested in being smart.
“What about the other guy?” Heather asked, I’d lost count on how many drinks I’d drunk.
Drinks I’d drunk. Hehe. That was funny.
“Dallas?” I laughed. “There is literally zero sexual attraction to him. I mean, I tried,” I admitted, those shots, cocktails and lord knows whatever else I’d consumed clouding my judgment. “But there is not even the tiniest spark.”
I’d even tested the theory, imagining peeling off all those black clothes and trying to visualize what that tongue ring would feel like on my clit. All I got was a sore hand and an elusive orgasm. The minute I’d flipped my mental pictures to Josh, I came so hard my legs shook. And like Survivor, the tribe—in this case my body—had spoken. Dallas had to leave the island.
“Let’s talk about something else,” I groaned, feeling slightly lightheaded and frustrated beyond belief. “I know, Kristen, tell us about the hot mechanic who needs to rebuild your transmission.”
That was all it took, deflecting the attention to someone else while I drank more, listening to the girls talk and laugh while I scanned the bar for anyone who would spark my interest. I felt like I was a lioness in the wild, looking for a suitable lion to mate with. It was totally happening tonight, my mind and body perfectly primed for sex without strings. At least, the alcohol haze convinced me so.
“Hey, it’s you!” A well-dressed man I didn’t recognize pointed at me and smiled. “Fancy meeting you here.”
In another time and place, I would have probably been into him. He was good looking, his san
dy hair and dark eyes lighting up his handsome face. But there was something about his recognition that sparked caution in me. Like I didn’t know him, and was concerned that he knew me. That was not a good thing.
Sadly, my disastrous show had given me the wrong kind of publicity. And while to the average person I was still a nobody who had nice hair, every once in a while I stumbled on someone who “recognized” me. It had been difficult the first days, and one of the reasons I’d been asked to take leave. And on the few days after there had been a couple more occurrences. I’d even had the lady who did my dry cleaning give me her two-dollar’s worth. And of all the nights I wanted to fake smile and listen to helpful suggestions, tonight wasn’t it.
“Sorry, I think you have me confused.” I tried to be tactful, slowly turning my body to the side. I leaned in, like I was listening to something being said, but my friends who had been talking and laughing minutes ago, were now silent and staring.
I needed new friends.
Sitting on the end of the booth always had its dangers, being accosted by people you didn’t want to speak to, the biggest.
“No, no. It’s definitely you.” He shook his head, his finger still waving insistently. “I never forget a face.”
Oh, he was one of those. How lovely for him. Never forgets a fucking face. Why every asshole felt they were an expert was beyond me, or why they thought I needed to hear it was even more bewildering. Didn’t these people have lives? And seriously how shallow was their existence when they needed to criticize me to inflate their level of self-importance.
I really should have stopped drinking.
“Let me guess.” The rudeness I’d been keeping at bay crept in. “You just saw me here, relaxing having a few drinks and thought it would be the perfect time to tell me how ineffective I used the space on the canvas.”
He blinked, shocked I’d had the audacity not to sit there and take it. Smile, like a good girl and thank him.
“Or was it something else?” I held up my hand, positive I knew where this was going. “How there weren’t enough feelings, your chest not fluttering like a heart patient with arrhythmia when you looked at my work.”