Skin: He wanted full contact

by Johanna Hawke

  I drew in a breath. “I’m sorry. Did I miss something here? I thought we weren’t speaking.” The words came out meaner than I had intended, but I let them hang there.

  “Maybe you’re not speaking to me, but I’m speaking to you,” Jesse said matter-of-factly. “I don’t get you, Roni. Things were going so well for us.”

  “I don’t want to do this right here.” I paused. “I decided that it’s best that we end things before we become too invested, and I’d like you to respect that.”

  I could tell that I struck a chord with Jesse. “Too invested?” he repeated, just a tad too loudly. “Come on, Roni. We’ve been invested for as long as I can remember. I don’t know what you heard about me, but it was probably just dumb gossip. Can’t we just talk this out?”

  I searched my head for a response that would please him and breathed an audible sigh of relief when the lights began to dim just as I opened my mouth. It was a good thing, because I’d had no clue what was going to come out.

  “Ladies and gentlemen, thank you for coming this evening,” a woman said from the podium. “We are thrilled to have a very special guest here with us tonight, and I’m sure you’re going to enjoy having her here just as much as we do. Without further ado, let me be the first to welcome Linda Hartman, a museum curator with some of the top art museums in the world.

  The audience applauded as Linda walked across the stage toward the microphone. As the clapping died down, Jesse and I glanced at one another at the same time. I quickly looked away. I shouldn’t have come, I told myself. Jesse was going to ruin my time, even if he didn’t intend on doing so. He was all I could think about, especially since he was sitting close enough to me that I could hear him breathe.

  The guest lecturer went on about what life was like as an art curator. I tried to focus as she told us about her experience working in an art museum in China, but all I could think about was Jesse. I hated him for ruining this talk for me. I hated him for sleeping with those girls. And I hated myself for falling for him all over again. It had been at least somewhat easy to try to forget about Jesse when I wasn’t actually seeing him. Now, with our legs less than an inch apart, all of the feelings were rushing back. I was back to square one.

  I couldn’t do this again. I had to keep telling myself that. As I zoned in and out of the lecture, I reminded myself that it had been a mistake to go back down this road, and that it was time to move on. It didn’t help. I then tried, as nonchalantly as I could, looking over at Jesse, picking apart each piece of him. He was the opposite of the type of guy I’d always been interested in.

  Whereas I usually preferred a clean-shaven, neatly-groomed man, Jesse had long, scraggly hair and stubble that he didn’t always take the time to shape. Most of his tattoos were covered by his suit, but that didn’t change the fact that they were still there. We lived different lives. The only things we really had in common was our past and our love of art. That could never be enough to sustain a relationship on… could it?

  I cycled the words, the little pep talks I’d given myself, over and over, but I knew it was no use. Here Jesse was, looking over and smiling from time to time like we were on a date, while I just wanted to move on. He’d never let it happen.

  Everyone laughed at a funny story that I had apparently been too distracted to listen to. I forced myself to stare at the stage and tried my best to listen to the speaker I’d been dying to see for weeks. I couldn’t believe how ridiculous I was being. She spoke eloquently and knowledgeably, and, here I was, taking it all for granted. I wondered if Jesse was able to focus, or if he was thinking about me as I sat beside him. Just get through the night, Roni, I told myself. Once this was over, I’d take it from there.

  Chapter 27

  Roni

  “Wow.” The voice behind me caught me so off guard that I knocked my paints off the palette with a clumsy knock of the elbow. I looked up to find one of the best-looking guys I’d seen since landing in the Big Apple six months earlier. His dimples made his whole face smile, in a way that sort of reminded me of Jesse. Oh well. Jesse was locked up and moved on, and this guy was here, in New York, and not unfortunate looking. “Sorry about that. Let me help you.”

  “Th-that’s okay,” I mumbled. Ignoring my statement, the hottie leaned down and grabbed as much as he could in both hands. “You like the piece?” I looked over at my work-in-progress, satisfied with the lilies I had spent the class period painting.

  “I do.” He paused. “But, actually, I was talking about your smile.”

  I felt the blood rush to my cheeks. “I’m Veronica,” I said. It took restraint each time I introduced myself to keep from calling myself Roni, the nickname I’d grown up with, but I’d decided that a new city meant a new name.

  “Kieran Wells. Nice to meet you.” As I packed up my belongings, I became aware for the first time that the class after mine had already begun piling in, likely why Kieran was hanging around my stool. We made small talk about art classes and the school, both of us excited to learn that the other was in New York for the first time. I hadn’t felt a connection like this since high school. Sure, I’d become good friends with my roommate, Ashley, and bonded with some girls on our floor, but, on a romantic level, this was the first time I thought about dating anyone besides Jesse.

  “I better go,” I said, halting the conversation. It came out more blunt-sounding than I had meant it, but Kieran didn’t seem fazed by it.

  “Look, I know this is kind of forward, but maybe we could go out sometime?” Kieran half-said, half-asked. Good, I’d been hoping he’d say that. We exchanged numbers, and I twirled around, leaving the classroom with a smile on my face.

  When my roommates asked me about my upcoming date, I didn’t have much to report, beyond some killer dimples and a guy with a shared love of art. I had always craved a relationship with someone who loved art, someone to go to museums with me and check out local galleries. Not that a relationship was what this was. But any chance to put myself out there, to move beyond my high school love, was fine by me.

  Three months with Kieran had flown by, and he was far better than any man I had expected to find in New York. I wasn’t sure why, but I had some notion in my mind that city boys would be rude and selfish. Kieran, on the other hand, was a perfect gentleman, and I was keenly aware that he was everything that Jesse hadn’t been. Kieran was responsible, picking me up exactly on time for every date we had and calling if he was ever delayed. He made plans and followed through on them. He had dreams of working as a cartoonist and was working hard toward pursuing those dreams. He told me on a regular basis how beautiful I was and how happy he was to be with me.

  For our three-month anniversary, Kieran had made surprise plans for us. “You might want to dress up a bit,” he’d told me. At exactly seven o’clock, he arrived outside of my dorm room dressed in a suit, holding a bouquet of roses. “For the most beautiful girl in New York,” he said. He looked me up and down, taking his time to admire the new black cocktail dress I got for the occasion. “And damn is she beautiful tonight.”

  I felt my cheeks turn red as I rushed inside to give Ashley the flowers to put in a vase. “Where can I find a guy like him?” Ashley joked, as I handed her the flowers and rushed back out to Kieran. He was a man so handsome I could hardly believe he was interested in me, someone who looked more like a movie star than an art geek like myself.

  “Where are we going?” I asked. “Subway or taxi?”

  Kieran shook his head. “Neither. It’s just a block up this way.” He took my hand and led me to a French restaurant that had been far too fancy to even be on my radar. “I wanted our anniversary to be special.” Before I had a chance to tell him that the restaurant was too much, that we could go somewhere cheaper and more appropriate for college students, he strode up to the host and gave him his name.

  The dining room was covered in ornate decorations and could seat no more than twenty or thirty patrons. It was unlike anywhere I’d ever been before. I opened the
menu and couldn’t hide the look of horror or my face when I saw that a bowl of soup was $22. Back in Virginia, we could get takeout for my whole family for that price.

  “Are you sure about this, Kieran?” I asked. “This place seems awfully pricey. I mean, I appreciate the effort, but—”

  Kieran opened his wallet and held up an American Express card. “Dinner’s on my father tonight,” he said.

  As sweet as the gesture was, I just didn’t feel right about having a meal that would cost hundreds of dollars at the expense of a man I had never met. Nonetheless, we were already seated, so I kept my mouth shut and looked for the least expensive item on the menu. Kieran’s intentions were sweet, but I hoped that no one could see how out of place I felt.

  “Veronica, there’s something I’ve been wanting to tell you,” Kieran said.

  Oh no. Whatever it was, it surely couldn’t be good if he had to take me to a fancy restaurant just to say it. “Oh yeah?” I asked, playing it cool.

  Kieran reached across the table and took one of my hands in each of his. “I love you.”

  I froze. I sat in the overly cushioned chair unable to move. This had been the last thing I was expecting from him. I’d been more prepared for us to end up in bed together than I had to hear those words. “I—I—” I mumbled, but nothing came out. I searched desperately for some words to make this situation less uncomfortable. “I mean, we’re still so new.”

  “I knew I loved you from the moment I first saw you in that classroom,” Kieran said. “Everything about you is incredible, Veronica, and I love you.”

  I didn’t know what had come over me—maybe it was the three “I love you” declarations in the span of thirty seconds— but I found myself jumping up from my chair and sprinting out of the restaurant. I went as far away from the restaurant as I could, hoping that creating distance would somehow erase this horrible night. When I finally caught my breath, I was back in front of my dorm, tears streaming down my face.

  I knew in my heart that I didn’t love Kieran. I loved Jesse. As much as I tried, I just couldn’t forget about him. Jesse would’ve laughed at this three-month anniversary nonsense. He would’ve said, “Anniversaries are once a year, and that’s plenty.” He wouldn’t have dared to let his father pay for a date that the two of us went on.

  I wanted so badly to love Kieran back. He was everything any girl could want, and, somehow, he still wasn’t enough for me. I couldn’t bring myself to move on. Even with Jesse out of the picture, locked up in the county jail, my trust was shattered, not just with him, but with every guy. I walked into my dorm room with my tear-soaked face turned away from my roommates, but, just as I expected, they caught me and ran over to attack me with hugs.

  “What happened?” Ashley asked, patting down my curls. “He didn’t… try anything, did he?”

  I shook my head. It hadn’t even occurred to me that my coming back so soon, crying, might capture the wrong sort of attention from Ashley, Vanessa, and Penelope. “I just don’t love him back,” I said.

  The girls led me over to the bedroom I shared with Ashley, and we sat in a circle on the floor as they waited for me to speak. There was clearly some unwritten rule in girl code about not asking further questions, because my friends surrounded me in comforting silence as I shared all that I was comfortable telling them. They knew the basics about my relationship with Jesse, and that it was long since over, but I hadn’t yet told them about how things had ended.

  The tears kept falling as I revealed my deepest feelings, my unwavering hurt. “I thought we were going to get married,” I said. “I was in love with him. Somedays, I think I still am. Kieran is a great guy, but I just couldn’t let him in the way he wanted to be let in.” When Vanessa tilted her head in a way that told me she had the wrong idea, I figured clarification would be best. “Not in a sexual way. I’m just afraid to get close to a guy again.” I paused, choking on my own tears. “I don’t want to be hurt like Jesse hurt me.”

  “Who do you like better?” Penelope asked.

  I shrugged. “It’s not that simple. Jesse and I dated for over a year. It was passionate, and sexy, and amazing, but he could also be a real jerk sometimes. He’s more of a bad boy. He brings out a completely different side of me. Then there’s Kieran, who’s sweet and dependable. He treats me like a princess, but it’s not as exciting. We don’t connect as deeply as I connected with Jesse.”

  Ashley leaned in towards me. “It sounds like you and Jesse had something really magical. Maybe you guys can work things out. You know, once he gets out of prison.”

  I knew how crazy this whole situation must have sounded. “Maybe.”

  “I think he sounds like a jerk,” Penelope said. “Ditching you on prom night? And now he’s a criminal! Forget about him. Give Kieran another chance.”

  “Yeah,” Vanessa piped in. “Kieran will forgive you. He’s crazy about you!”

  “I guess,” I whispered. Vanessa was right. There wasn’t a doubt in my mind that Kieran would forgive me for my scene at the restaurant and take me back as his girlfriend. That was just the kind of guy he was. Still, as long as there was still even the slightest glimmer of hope for me and Jesse, I wasn’t sure if I’d ever be able to move on and let another man into my heart.

  Chapter 28

  Jesse

  I could still picture Roni sitting there in the jacuzzi, telling me about her dreams as I admired her every curve. She wanted to open an art school. That was it. That was my chance to win her back. It seemed a bit extravagant, sure, but Roni was worth it. I wasn’t becoming a billionaire off of my tattoo clients, but I’d become fairly well-off, especially in this small town where prices hadn’t gone up in years. Surely I could find something in Linfield, or even in nearby Richmond, to bring Roni’s vision to fruition. I had to at least give it a try.

  I wasn’t certain if this was too big of a gesture, especially given the way Roni had reacted to simple flowers and gifts, but I decided to leave it up to the universe. If it had a perfect place for Roni to open an art school, then I’d know it was meant to be. I sat down at my kitchen table and opened the newspaper for the first time in much longer than I cared to admit. Business Spaces for Rent. Most of the options were simply available offices in local office buildings, but there were two prospects. One was a retail storefront, another a building that was currently in use as a florist but could be converted as needed. I decided these were my best bets.

  One thing they’d never taught me in school—or prison—was etiquette for buying and renting business properties. Sure, you had to schedule a tour or go to an open house for residential properties, but what was the deal with commercial rental? Both listings had addresses, so I took that to mean that I could swing by whenever I wanted to take a look.

  Damn, I hoped this would work. It wasn’t just about winning Roni back. It was also about helping her live out a dream. I owed so much to her, and I just wanted her to get what she wanted most in this world. If I just happened to get back in Roni’s good graces in the process, so be it.

  I had a checklist in my head of things that the properties had to have. Of course, they had to have classrooms. That was something that could be added, but it would definitely be a bonus if there was already some room division. It had to have ample parking. There was a nice chunk of Linfield, especially around Main Street, that only had metered parking and spots that required parallel parking. I had witnessed Roni attempt to parallel park more than a few times, and it had never been pretty. A parking lot would be ideal. Though I knew it might not be feasible, I hoped I could also find a one year lease, just in case Roni wasn’t thrilled about the space.

  If today’s properties didn’t cut it, I’d look again tomorrow, and the next day, and as long as it took until Roni had her perfect art school. It had to be right. I opted to drive by the flower shop I found in the newspaper, since it was the closer of the two and I had a client coming in in an hour and a half. Ample parking, check. There was a shared parking lot right nex
t to the building, which was on the corner of the street, and there had to be at least thirty-five or forty parking spots. That was good enough in my book.

  I was sold on the florist’s shop from the moment I saw it. I’d seen it plenty of times throughout the years, first as a bakery, then as a hardware store, and I supposed its days of being a flower shop were numbered. The florist who owned it had moved her shop from the other side of town to this location maybe eight or ten years ago, from what I remembered. From the outside, the building looked a tad worn-down, but, on the inside, it was perfection. The foyer was wide open, and there were four or five smaller rooms that branched out from it.

  “An art studio, you say?” the owner, an elderly woman with white frosted hair, asked.

  “That’s right,” I said.

  “Well, this ought to be perfect.” She took me by the arm and dragged me into the furthest room from the entrance. “This is my office. It would make a great office for you.”

  “Actually, it’s not for—”

  The woman didn’t give me chance to finish my sentence before taking me room by room, telling me about all of the possibilities like she was suddenly an art expert. She spoke sweetly but convincingly as she gave me her best sales pitch. It was evident how eager she wanted to rent out the space, and, from the looks of her sparse store, it was easy to see why.

  Nonetheless, I thought it would be the perfect space for Roni. The foyer would make the perfect entryway for students, and the rooms were an obvious choice for the classes. I knew I’d be hard-pressed to find anything more suitable for Roni’s dream studio. To reaffirm my belief, I stepped outside to make a quick call to the owner of the other property I’d circled in the newspaper. Not only was the owner a complete asshole on the phone, but the space only had one giant front room and a small back room. That meant it would require a hell of a lot of work to turn it into a studio.