Control You

by Snyder, Jennifer

  “What’s up, man? How you been?” Jason nodded in my direction.

  “Decent, and you?”

  “Not too bad.”

  Paige walked down the hall then, saving me from more meaningless chitchat. Not that I minded Jason, I was just wound a little too tight to be holding a conversation with anyone.

  “Hey.” Paige smiled. She turned toward the kitchen and picked up a tiny purple purse from the countertop.

  “Hi,” was all I could manage. She looked stunning dressed in a pair of skinny jeans and a tight-fitting sweater top. The brown boots she wore came up past her knees, and I could smell her signature scent from where I stood—a lemony aroma that made me want to eat her up.

  Cramming my hands into the front pockets of my jeans, I watched her as she smiled and talked with Blaire for a moment.

  “I don’t know.” She glanced over her shoulder at me and grinned. “He hasn’t told me where we’re eating yet.”

  “Good thing for you Paige enjoys surprises.” Blaire flashed me a friendly smile.

  “You’ve got it easy then, man. Blaire doesn’t enjoy surprises as much,” Jason chimed in from the couch.

  My eyes locked with Paige’s. “Good thing for me then, because I love surprising those I care about.”

  Care about? Oh fuck, that was a little much. Way, way too soon. Paige didn’t seem to mind my word choice though. In fact, her smile grew. This canceled out the heart failure moment I thought I’d created, and my shoulders relaxed a bit.

  “All right, I’ll be back later.” She dropped her purse and bent down to retrieve it. Her shapely ass in those tight-fitting jeans drew in my eyes like a magnet. The edge of her sweater pulled up, revealing about an inch and a half of the creamy skin of her lower back, and I felt my jeans grow too tight. “Oh, and I’m saying this to both of you. I do not, I repeat, do not want to walk in on any hanky-panky crap. Okay?”

  I pushed my hands farther into my front pockets, hoping to draw my jeans a little farther away from my semi-wood growing by the second as I chuckled at what she’d just said.

  “Oh, whatever.” Blaire laughed.

  “I’m not making any promises, Paige.” Jason winked at her.

  “Oh, God, come on. Let’s get out of here.” Paige looped her arm through mine and tugged me around to face the front door.

  Her sudden touch didn’t help the situation in my pants any. Fuck. I hadn’t been so worried about springing a boner since middle school.

  “So where are you taking me?” she asked once we made it to my car and climbed inside.

  I cranked the engine and glanced at her. “No place fancy. I’ll tell you that. I’m more of a laid-back sort when I eat. Is that all right with you?”

  “Absolutely.” She grinned.

  * * * *

  When we pulled up in front of The Point, Paige seemed content with my choice. I’d been worried she had been expecting something a little nicer and quieter, but that wasn’t me. I liked to drink a beer with my food, eat with my fingers, and listen to decent music in an entertaining setting when I went out to eat.

  We strolled through the double doors and paused, casing the place out while searching for a seat. Taking Paige’s hand in mine, I wove through the slight crowd of people drinking and mingling with others while standing in the way. Choosing a booth tucked in the back, I stopped and let Paige choose which side she wanted. Generally, I preferred the one overlooking the place, but decided the one with my back to everyone wouldn’t be too bad for the night after she sat in my spot.

  “I really like the atmosphere of this place tonight. It’s alive.” Her eyes widened with excitement and I smiled.

  “I know.” I reached out for the small plastic sign listing all the different types of beer available, and skimmed it. “I’ve only eaten here a few times.”

  Our waitress came over, and we both ordered a beer as she handed us our menus. When she walked away to give us a moment to glance over the menu, I leaned my elbows against the table and fixed my eyes on Paige. “So you’re a beer drinker, huh? I’m surprised by that. I figured you were more along the lines of a mixed drink or wine type girl.”

  She raised an eyebrow and leaned against the table, mimicking my motion. “I didn’t know there was a specific type to drink beer.”

  I chuckled. “Oh, there is. There definitely is, and I didn’t peg you as being one of them.”

  “Well, I’m glad I surprised you.”

  “So, tell me how sales were after Monday. Did it pick up like I anticipated it would?”

  Paige focused her eyes on a few sesame seeds from someone’s burger bun left on the table, pushing them around with the tip of her burgundy-painted nail. “It could have been better. I’m hoping the word gets out that I’m there soon and I can draw in more people. My parents are a little iffy on whether I can hack this job, and I desperately want to prove to them that I can. Plus, I hired Lauren since she was there helping me with everything anyway. Now I’m worried I won’t be able to pay her after a few more weeks when my money left over from renovations runs out.”

  “Give it time. It’s not going to become a thriving, booming business overnight,” I insisted. My mind churned with different ideas to get the word out a little more. Maybe I needed to buy her some time on a billboard.

  “Thanks.” She smiled. “I know that, I just want this so badly, you know?”

  Sadness shone in her eyes. It tugged at the edges of my heart and made me wish I could make it disappear from her eyes all together. “I know.”

  Our waitress came back with our beers and asked if we were ready to order.

  “I’ll have…” Paige glanced over the menu once more. Her eyelashes fluttered against the tops of her cheeks, and the sudden urge to paint her gripped me. “The honey-glazed wings with a side of coleslaw, please.”

  “And for you?” the waitress asked, directing her attention to me.

  “I’ll take wings as well, but mild and with blue cheese dressing. And I’ll have fries with mine.” I took Paige’s menu and placed it on top of mine, before handing them both to the waitress.

  Silence grew between us after the waitress walked away. I struggled, as I never had before, with trying to find something to say. I hated how I always seemed to feel this way in her presence.

  “So, how have things been for you this week?” Paige asked, finally breaking the silence.

  I took a sip of my beer, stalling until I could think of something of interest to say. “Not bad, I guess. I painted a few more things and rearranged some furniture in the house.” Goddamn, I had turned into one boring motherfucker.

  Paige’s lips twisted at the corners, as though she could hear my inner dialogue. “Sounds interesting. Did you paint anything good?”

  “Depends on what your definition of good is.”

  “Touché.” She grinned.

  I sat up, straightening my back, and pulled my beer to the edge of the table. “I’d like to paint you though.”

  Her eyebrows drew together as her cheeks became a beautiful shade of pink. “Paint me? Why?”

  “Because you have a classic beauty to your features that I find captivating.”

  My heart thumped in my chest. I’d never mentioned the fact that I painted to anyone I dated, let alone told them I wanted to paint them. Paige’s rosy tint deepened and I couldn’t keep away the smile that spread across my face.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

  PAIGE

  Cameron wanted to paint me? That would be awkward. In fact, there would be no way I could sit through something like that while sober. I’d blush through too many shades of red and worry he’d find too many imperfections in my appearance he’d feel forced to smooth over while having them permanently embedded in his mind.

  “You think I’ll ever have the opportunity for that?” he asked, putting me on the spot.

  I took a small swig from my beer. It tasted like skunk in a bottle, but I hadn’t wanted to order a mixed drink and get toasted in the fir
st few minutes of our date. Nothing good could come from that. In fact, I’d probably end up sleeping with him before we even left the parking lot. My eyes trailed over his face, taking in all the little things about it that I’d liked since first meeting him—the set of his jaw, the colors of his eyes, the way his upper lip poked out just a bit farther than his bottom. Yeah, sleeping with him on a first date wouldn’t be half bad, but then I remembered Craig and everything about this date felt wrong.

  This was the exact reason he’d gone insane last weekend, because he’d thought something had been going on between us. Now here I was, on a dinner date with him. How much more confirmation could I give the guy that I had, in fact, had the hots for Cameron? I’d just never acted on it until now.

  “So?” Cameron raised an eyebrow as he dragged the word out.

  I bit the inside of my cheek, and then crinkled my nose at him. “I don’t know. Honestly, I think it might seem a little weird.”

  “Are you trying to say you aren’t comfortable around me?”

  My heart dropped to my stomach at his low tone. “No. Not at all. I’m just saying I don’t think I want you zeroing in on me. You’ll notice all my facial imperfections, and then not want to look at me anymore.” I laughed, hoping it would disguise the truth to my words.

  “First off, what about my question led you to believe I wanted to paint only your face?” A playful gleam flickered through his eyes. “Second, there is nothing on your entire body that I would deem to be an imperfection, I’m sure.” His eyes heated and I felt a tremor slip through me from the sight.

  I started to say something, but then the words to the song playing in the background floated to my ears and it was all I could do not to burst out laughing. I sank my teeth into my bottom lip to keep the laugh at bay, but once I heard the chorus I couldn’t hold it in any longer. “I’m sorry; your words are totally going with this song right now.”

  I watched him as he strained to hear the song playing through the crowded place and nearly died with laughter the moment he realized what it was—Your Body Is a Wonderland by John Mayer.

  “I don’t know if I would call that good timing or completely shitty,” he choked out between laughs.

  “I don’t know,” I agreed, his laughter infusing mine.

  Our waitress came with our food, and we lapsed into an easy conversation about our music likes and dislikes while we ate. After we paid for our food and headed to the doors, my stomach churned with nerves.

  Cameron lit a cigarette as we exited The Point, and leaned against the wall. I stepped beside him, being sure I was downwind from his smoke. I didn’t mind a guy who smoked, but I didn’t want to be suffocated by the stench either. Folding my arms across my chest, I glanced up at the sky.

  “Look at those stars.” A gentle breeze blew, sending strands of my hair into my face, and I tucked them back my ear. “Sometimes I forget how beautiful they are.”

  He tipped his head back and looked up. “Yeah, that and how small we really are.”

  His words seemed sad and resonated with me, making me view the tiny speckles in the sky in a whole new way. A car pulled up two parking spaces over, and a group of people close to our age stepped out. They were all laughing and engrossed in conversation. When they stepped through the door, their laughter mingled with the music and chattering from inside. As soon as the glass door closed behind them, Cameron and I were sealed off in that same heavy silence that had been pressing on me since we’d stepped outside. I bit my bottom lip and chipped my nail polish off my thumb. Anxiety was building inside me, but only because I wasn’t ready for this night with him to end. I worried the next words out his mouth would be something along the lines of “I had a good time,” and then he’d take me home.

  My mind flipped through different things we could do that would allow me to spend more time with him, to get to know him more, before he said that dreaded sentence. I just couldn’t think of anything. A movie was ruled out, because I wanted to be able to talk with him. I couldn’t do that there. It was too cold to ask to go for ice cream. I didn’t want to go to Enticing Aroma for coffee, because I’d quit there recently to open up my shop.

  “Since you won’t let me paint you, and I doubt you’d want to go back to my place and hang out, do you bowl?” He snuffed out his cigarette and placed it in the ashtray beside the door.

  Adrenaline rushed through my system as a wide grin sprang to my face. He didn’t want to call it a night yet either. Yes! “I’ve only been a few times, but sure, we could go bowling.”

  “Cool.” He started toward his car with a relieved look etched into the contours of his face.

  * * * *

  Norhurst Lanes was not a place I frequented. In fact, I’d only ever been bowling twice in my entire life—the last time being when I was ten and had gone to Shea Vanhook’s birthday party. Walking across the eerily lit parking lot, I realized there were more cars here than I’d thought there would be on a Saturday night. A group of people stood off to the side, smoking cigarettes and talking. A few of them held clear plastic cups in their hands, filled with what I assumed to be alcohol. Relief trickled through me; at least I could have another drink and drown the nervous butterflies in my stomach a little more.

  Cameron opened the door for me and I stepped inside. My nose was instantly assaulted by the stench of burnt nacho cheese and musty old shoes, while my eyes didn’t know where to look first due to the crazy patterned carpet beneath my feet that also reached halfway up the walls.

  “Wow, this place is festive,” I muttered.

  Cameron chuckled beside me. “Not the word I would go with to describe it.”

  We walked to the tall desk centered in front of us. A guy sitting in a cushy desk chair glared at us. He was picking something from his teeth with a toothpick and had one of the worst comb-overs I’d ever seen.

  “We’d like to bowl,” Cameron said. He pulled his wallet from his back pocket and waited on the guy to say a price.

  “How many people?” the guy asked with an uninterested expression as he continued to scratch away between his teeth.

  I glanced behind us, making sure we were the only people in line, and drew my brows together when I realized we were.

  “Two,” Cameron bit out.

  “Do you have socks?” the man asked.

  “I believe so,” Cameron answered.

  The man leaned his elbows against the desk and locked eyes with Cameron. “That’s not an answer. It was a simple yes or no question.”

  I watched as Cameron cocked his head to the side and smirked at the man, anxious to see how he would respond. “Yes, we have socks. How much for a lane and two pairs of shoes?”

  The guy messed with the computer screen for a minute. “Nine fifty.”

  After Cameron paid and we told the man our shoe sizes, we found our lane and began the search for a ball that wasn’t too heavy for me to lift. The lightest one we found—after nearly ten solid minutes of looking—was a seven pounder. It was bright pink, but still a little on the heavy side for me. God, I was going to hate this.

  “You wanna go first?” Cameron sat at the push button computer placed in our little area.

  “Sure, why not.” I pursed my lips together and inhaled deeply as I sat in one of the chairs and tugged on the hideous clown shoes. “But, I’m just warning you up front that I suck at this game.”

  He shrugged and pressed a few buttons. “I’m not the best either. It’s been years since I’ve played.”

  After he entered in our names, I stuck my fingers in the holes and walked up to the beginning of the wax-covered lane. My palms were sweaty, and I swore I could feel Cameron’s eyes glued to my ass. Someone beside me scored a strike, and his or her entire group erupted with cheers. Pulling my arm back, I drew it forward, kicked my left leg out sideways, and released the ball. It sailed down the lane at a speed far faster than what I’d anticipated, but was only able to clip the two pins on the side before heading straight for the gutter. My se
cond attempt wasn’t much better. I gained one more pin, and then the ball slipped right through the area I’d cleared out for its easy escape with the previous shot.

  Turning, I stalked back to my chair with a smile on my face. “I told you I sucked at this game.”

  Cameron was still sitting at the computer, his arms crossed, smiling at me. “No, you did good.” He chuckled.

  “Then why are you laughing?” I tucked a strand of hair behind my ears and sat on my hands. This was not how I wanted the rest of our date to go—me making myself look like an idiot.

  He leaned forward, his eyes flashing with amusement. “What was with the little kick to the side?”

  “How else am I supposed to keep my balance when chucking that heavy ball down the lane?”

  “You use your core.” He reached out and touched my lower stomach. Tingles sliced through me, shocking my heart and awakening every nerve in my body. “Here, let me show you how it’s done.”

  The amount of confidence in his voice was nothing compared to the amount put behind his swagger as he sauntered to grab his ball. My eyes grazed over him as he walked to the beginning of the lane, taking in his sexy stride and the way his back muscles seemed to twist and flex with each movement.

  “Are you watching?” He glanced over his shoulder to look at me. His eyebrow arched and a crooked grin formed on his face when he saw that I had been watching him. “Good.”

  I cleared my throat and dropped my eyes to the shiny, waxed flooring at his feet for a second, before lifting them to watch him once more. This time, though, I attempted to focus more on his stance and bowling ability than the way his jeans gripped his cute ass and his tight shirt squeezed at his muscles.

  Cameron glanced back at me once more before he spread his legs wide and flung the ball between them. It rocketed down the lane and nailed every single pin, earning him a strike.