“Your friend Payton may be right,” Macy admitted the next day at work. “But maybe it’s the other way around. Maybe you really do like Evan and you’re fooling yourself with this Jake guy. Using him to push Evan away.”
“Do you really think that’s possible?” It didn’t sound right to me, but I was beginning to accept that I was pretty clueless about my own life. “What if they are both actually good guys that I have a connection with? How do I choose?”
“I don’t think you’ll have to,” Macy said, her eyes widening as she looked at the door. “Evan might have just chosen for you.”
Another beautiful bouquet of roses was delivered to my desk. This one did have a card, but all it said was: Thanks for a perfect evening.
I couldn’t believe that Evan sent me flowers two days in a row. It totally made up for him spontaneously leaving town. But it also had the effect of making it even more difficult to decipher my feelings.
Jake called later in the day to invite me to his tennis match on Saturday. It was the opening round so he didn’t think it would be very exciting for me, but I was thrilled by the invitation. Not only did I love playing tennis, I also loved watching hot guys play tennis. Especially one that was as talented as Jake.
Macy happily agreed to tag along. She was hoping to pick up a tennis player of her own.
Jake had reserved us excellent seats and it was a perfect day to watch tennis. The sun was out and there was a light breeze. We settled in comfortably and waited for the players to step onto the court.
“So he’s a good player?” Macy asked skeptically as she slipped on designer sunglasses.
“The best, actually.” I had checked the rankings in the morning and Jake was still in the number 1 slot. He was the guy to beat. “He has the fastest serve ever and an amazing forehand.”
“Is that code for something sexual?” Macy raised an eyebrow and smirked.
I just shook my head at her. “I can’t take you anywhere, can I?”
“And yet you also can’t stay away from me.”
“Like a bad addiction.” My breath hitched as Jake came into view.
He was wearing white tennis shorts and a white polo- standard uniform for his line of work. His dark hair ruffled in the breeze and he dropped his bag next to one of two chairs. While he unzipped the bag, his eyes scanned the stands, stopping only when they found me.
The smile he gave me was dazzling.
“Whoa,” Macy muttered, leaning forward involuntarily. “He’s beautiful.”
“Yes, he is,” I agreed, giving him a small wave of my fingers.
“Like Greek god beautiful.” She turned to me. “You completely undersold this guy.”
That was an understatement. I had been underselling Jake to myself because I had been convinced I was meant to end up with Evan. But Jake had been undeniably wonderful and there was no doubt that I had feelings for him.
Once the match started, Jake was all business. He kept his focus on the game, not in the stands. I couldn’t take my eyes off of him. His skill and grace on the court was something to behold.
The match itself was a slaughter. Jake won every game, closing it out in three sets. Many of the fans left early, but I watched the whole thing from the edge of my seat. When it was over, Jake headed to the sidelines and looked into the crowd for only the second time. This time, when his eyes found mine, he didn’t smile.
He stopped and stared for what felt like an hour, but was probably less than a minute. For me, it seemed like time was standing still. Then he looked away and I realized that I had been holding my breath the entire time.
“He totally has the hots for you!” Macy said, elbowing me hard in the side. “If you decide you don’t want him, I’ll take him.”
Right at that moment, I absolutely wanted Jake Wellington.
He was busy after the match, showering and doing interviews. I sent him a congratulatory text and begrudgingly left without getting a chance to talk to him in person.
Ten minutes after I got home, my phone rang. It was Evan.
He had to pop back to Paris for a day to pick up one of his cameras and he wanted to know if I was free for the evening. It caught me completely by surprise, and the fact of the matter was that my evening was completely open. I had no good reason to say no to him, so I didn’t.
Almost immediately after hanging up with Evan, Jake called.
“Hey.” He sounded like his usual, collected self. “Thanks for coming today.”
“Thanks for inviting me.” I remembered that look he had given me and I wondered if he was going to address it. “You looked good out there today.”
“I always look good,” he joked. Then he cleared his throat and asked more seriously. “What are you up to tonight?”
I held back a groan. Of course this was happening. “I’m heading out to meet someone actually.”
“Someone?” He sounded like he already knew exactly who I was meeting.
No sense in lying to him.
“Evan. He’s in town for the night.”
There was a long pause on his end of the line. Finally, he said, “What is it about this guy? He comes into town for one night and you immediately jump to answer his booty call?”
“That’s not fair, Jake.” I tried to keep my tone level by reminding myself that he was just hurt and wasn’t trying to be a jerk. “You knew that I was seeing Evan. I told you that I have feelings for him.” Never mind that I also had feelings for Jake.
Another long pause.
“I guess I should let you go. Wouldn’t want to stop you from pursuing those feelings.”
“Jake.” I wanted to say something that would make this less terrible. “What about tomorrow? Are you free tomorrow?”
He scoffed. “I don’t want to be your consolation prize, Camryn. You seeing me only when this Evan guy leaves town again- no thanks.”
“You’re not a consolation prize, Jake. Really.” But that’s exactly what it felt like. I wondered, if Jake had called first, would things be different? Or would I still have dropped everything to meet up with Evan? “I like being with you.”
“Just not more than you like being with him.” He sighed. “Call me tomorrow.”
I sat and stared at the phone for ten minutes, wondering just what I had gotten myself into and how I was going to sort out this mess.
I exited Evan’s elevator two hours later with knots in my stomach. I wasn’t really sure what to expect, but Evan greeted me with a big hug and a long kiss.
“You look even better than I remember.” He looked me up and down. “Wine? I brought some back from Italy.”
“Okay.” I had already made a promise with myself on the way over that I wouldn’t have more than one glass of wine. Any more than that and I couldn’t guarantee that I would be able to make rational decisions.
Evan immediately started telling me about all of the restaurants he had gone to in Rome, complete with graphic detail of food and beverage. I tried to feign interest as I watched him fill a wine glass nearly to the top before handing it to me.
“When do you leave again?” I asked, simply to change the topic.
“Tomorrow afternoon. Quick turnaround.” He didn’t seem too bothered by the brevity, however. “Let’s get comfortable in the other room.”
That was easier said than done. Evan sat next to me on the couch, arm around me and rubbing my shoulder. I was surprised by the affection, but I can’t say it was entirely unwelcomed.
Even though I had been second guessing things with Evan, it still felt nice to be with him. He was attentive and sweet, and I was a sucker for a man with a great smile. But when he leaned over and kissed me, I immediately thought of Jake.
“Is everything okay?” Evan asked, astutely picking up on my lack of enthusiasm.
No. Everything wasn’t okay.
“Sorry. I’m just a little distracted tonight.”
Evan grinned. “I can help take your mind off things.”
Despite all of
the promises I had made to myself about not acting rash tonight, I convinced myself to let him try. It would be nice to turn off the thinking part of my brain. But when Evan started to take off my shirt, my brain turned on again, instantly going back to Jake.
“Evan, stop.” I pushed his hands away. “I’m sorry. This just isn’t working.”
He looked at me with wide eyes, astounded. “What do you mean?”
“I think we should spend some time getting to know each other before we jump into bed again.” I shrugged helplessly. “Maybe try actually dating?”
“Dating?” His lips twitched, either from humor or annoyance. I couldn’t tell which. “I thought that’s what we were doing.”
“Are you being serious?” I really couldn’t tell. “So far, our time together has consisted of me coming over at night, drinking some wine, and then having sex.”
Evan nodded. “Yes. Exactly. Dating.”
I froze. Was he being serious? He was smiling, but I could tell from his eyes that he meant what he said.
“I should go.” I put down my wine glass and stood up, smoothing down my shirt. “This isn’t a good idea.”
“Camryn, relax. I was kidding.” Evan stood up and grabbed my elbow. “Don’t go. We can just sit and talk.”
“I appreciate the offer, but I really think I should go home.” I tried to politely extract my arm from his grip.
Evan stared hard at me, debating. Finally, he nodded. “Okay. I’ll call you cab.”
When it arrived, he walked me to the elevator, kissed me on the cheek, and told me to have a good night.
I expected that to be the end of things with Evan. I had shot him down and he hadn’t seemed too pleased about it. But he texted me the next day and said that it had been great to see me again and that he would call when he was back in Paris next week. The text certainly didn’t help with my confusion.
“I’m sick of your boy drama,” Macy announced on Monday morning. She had listened to my story with a perturbed look on her face. “Pick one. Set the other one free so I can date him.”
“I know, I know. Poor me.” Even I was tired of hearing about my drama. “What shall we talk about instead?”
“How about the photo shoot we going to this afternoon. It should be awesome.”
Macy and I had been chosen to represent Evelyn Rose Fashions at a magazine shoot. It was kind of a big deal, and a lot of our coworkers were jealous of our opportunity.
“Who is the photographer?” I asked, hoping it was someone ridiculously famous.
“I’m not sure, but Couture Magazine only works with the very best.” Macy glanced over my shoulder, her eyes narrowing. “More flowers?”
It was true. Another bouquet of roses was placed on my desk, much to the dismay of the single women around me. My desk now appeared to be hidden in a rose garden.
Another short note: Sorry about last night.
Evan was certainly making it hard for me to stay mad about his standoffish behavior the previous night.
“Three days of roses in a row?” Macy’s eyebrows raised. “You must be amazing in bed.”
“Well, I am. But I’m not sure that’s what all of this is about,” I said, gesturing to the floral spread.
“You are being wooed.” Macy stood up to walk back to her desk. “Enjoy it while it lasts. Once he starts regularly getting the milk for free, the roses will stop.”
In a couple of hours, we were organizing outfits on a rooftop in the heart of Paris. Roses were long forgotten as I worked on quickly hemming a skirt. The models were busy getting their hair and makeup done and the photographer was busy studying the lighting. I don’t know why, but I was surprised that the photographer was female.
“That’s Clara Beringer. She’s in the top five for female photographers in Europe,” Macy explained as she detangled a stack of gold necklaces.
“I’ve never heard of her,” I admitted.
Clara was a typical French beauty; long, dark hair. Pouty lips. Curvy body. I was sure that she had no problem finding dates on a Friday night.
“Ladies!” She waved to both of us, her words heavily accented when she said, “A little help, please.”
So Macy and I stood in for the models while Clara made adjustments with her equipment.
“Two steps to the left, darling.”
We stepped this way, leaned that way. Lifted and tucked and turned. It was quite fun, actually, pretending to be a model.
Clara said as she looked through the lens, “You should be a model.”
“Oh, no.” I blushed hard. “I could never master the catwalk.”
“The camera loves you,” she said.
“You sound like Evan,” I muttered.
Clara lowered the camera. “You don’t mean Evan Carter?”
I hadn’t expected her to get the reference. But then I remembered that they were both photographers, so maybe I should’ve been more careful.
“I do, actually.” I tried not to be bothered by the way she looked at me. “Do you know Evan?
“We used to be involved romantically,” she said, lips pressed tight together.
“Oh.” Now I was starting to feel self-conscious. Not only was Clara beautiful, she also had photography in common with Evan. She understood him in a way that I never could.
Clara smirked. “Good luck, darling. He’s quite a handful.”
I wanted to ask what she meant, but the models were ready now and we were wasting precious daylight hours.
Clara was an efficient photographer. She hurried through the shoot until she got to the last outfit. “This does not look right,” she said, squinting into one of her monitors. She turned to me. “You. Put it on.”
“Me?” I squeaked. “Put the dress on?”
“Yes.”
She acted like it was the most obvious thing in the world. I was stupefied.
“Why?”
Clara gave me an annoyed look that I was sure she had perfected when she was just a baby. “Because I say so. Okay?”
Macy wisely grabbed my arm and pulled me over to the changing area. She hurried to strip the model of the dress while I stood stubbornly with my arms crossed over my chest.
“You better undress,” Macy said, giving me a worried look. “If you don’t cooperate, I think Clara might throw you off this roof.”
“Don’t be dramatic.” But I shot a nervous glance in Clara’s direction.
“Listen, Cam. Clara Beringer thinks you should be a model. Don’t ask questions, don’t put up a protest. Just do it.”
I didn’t have the energy to put up a fight. When Macy made up her mind about something, it was almost impossible to change it. So I hurried into the dress and begrudgingly took my place in front of the camera.
Apparently my uncomfortableness and annoyance were a good partnership because Clara insisted that whatever I was doing was working. She offered to show me the shots afterward but I was too embarrassed to look. Macy hovered anxiously over her shoulder and gave me a double thumbs up.
“These are hot!”
I quickly redressed in my normal, boring clothes. While Macy continued to scour the photos, I got busy packing up the wardrobe. We had the roof top reserved for only an hour more so we didn’t have a lot of time to mess around.
“Mace, we need to get moving.”
“Yeah, yeah. Alright.”
She eventually came over to help, but not without also grilling me about my lack of desire to become a model.
“It’s just weird. That’s all. Most girls dream of growing up to do something like that and you are acting like you just had a root canal. Without drugs.”
“I know.” She had a point. Maybe I was overreacting. “I’ve just only ever wanted to be a designer. Modeling isn’t really my thing.”
“Well, those pictures tell a different story.” She grinned at me. “Besides, who says you can only do one? Why not be a designer and a model?”
I thought about what Macy said all night. The truth was that
so far in Paris, I hadn’t been doing any designing at all. I had hoped that with my internship with Evelyn Rose, I would get a chance to show her some of my designs and get some tips. But the reality was the Evelyn was barely ever in the studio, and when she was there, she was far too busy to look at my sketches.
If I was going to pursue my dream, I needed to make opportunities for myself instead of waiting for other people to notice my talent.
The next day, I cornered Macy at lunch and showed her some of my designs. I made her promise to give me honest feedback, and I knew that she would. She wasn’t one to mince words, even if it meant saving my feelings.
“These are good, Cam,” she said, sounding surprise. “Really good. I would wear this stuff.”
For Macy, that was the highest of compliments. She was incredibly picky when it came to her wardrobe choices. She exclusively wore designer clothing, nothing off the rack. I wasn’t sure she even know how to say the word sale.
“And you aren’t just saying that to be nice?” I asked nervously.
“Me? Nice?” She scoffed. “That’s not something you ever have to worry about. You should show these to Evelyn. She might be able to give you some advice.”
I shook my head. “No. I’m sure she gets this kind of stuff all the time. I don’t want to bother her.”
“Okay, but if you don’t try, you’ll never succeed.”
“But I also won’t fail,” I pointed out.
Her head tilted. “Then what was the point of doing it in the first place?”
I was really getting tired of Macy constantly pointing out how foolish I was being with everything in my life. First guys, then modeling, and now my life’s passion.
Because we had stayed late the previous night finishing up the shoot, I was able to leave work early. I could’ve done a dozen different things with my time, but when I really thought about what I wanted to do, I reached for my phone.
“You still have my number?” Jake asked when he answered the phone.
“Lucky you. What are you up to?” I took a seat on a metal park bench, watching the lunch crowd pass by. It was another beautiful Parisian day.
“Getting ready for hitting practice.”
I was disappointed. “Darn. Guess that means we can’t stand in line at the Louvre for four hours together.”
French Kissing (Restless Hearts) Page 5