I smiled and shook my head at him. "I'll hang with the girls," I said.
Ethan was apparently used to getting what he wanted and had no doubt that Joe was coming with him because he was tugging at him the whole time Joe and I looked at each other. It was surreal watching Joe watch me reluctantly as Ethan Prescott dragged him away.
I had another surreal moment about fifteen minutes later when I caught sight of Joe again. He was standing with Ethan, talking to a group of people near the back of the ballroom. Even from a distance, and right next to Ethan Prescott, Joe took my breath away. I always knew what a presence he was, and it was obvious, even from across the room—that's why Ethan wanted to drag him along—Joe was just magnetic like that. He smiled at something someone in the group was saying, and I smiled right along with him.
"Lululemon!" I heard a guy's voice say from behind me.
I knew who it was before I even turned around. Chris Higgins was in art school with me my first two years. He had gotten into some trouble, and his attendance got worse and worse until he finally dropped out altogether. Chris was the only person who ever called me Lululemon, and he called me that and nothing else. I wasn't even sure if he knew my name was just Lu. I turned to find Chris wearing a white shirt and black slacks, which didn't surprise me since I knew he frequently worked catering gigs. He was a handsome guy. He had long hair that he wore down when he was at school, but now he had it pulled back into a ponytail. He looked me over with an appraising stare and reached out for a hug.
"What are you doing here, you little hottie?"
"I'm here with Sarah's family," I said.
I knew Chris knew Sarah, so I thought that would explain everything. I gestured at Rebecca and Eli, who were a few feet away, but he barely spared them a glance.
"What are you doing now?" he asked, looking at me with a sincere, extremely interested expression. Just the way he smiled at me made me feel like I was somehow betraying Joe.
"I got a spot at S&S," I said.
"No kidding!" he said with wide eyes. "That's close to where I work. I'll have to come check you out sometime. Is Macy still over there?"
I nodded. "Are you still painting?" I asked.
"You know I am," he said. "People like us, we're destined to make art. It's like it's in our DNA, you know?"
I was deciding how I wanted to respond when a movement caught my eye from over Chris's shoulder. I glanced in that direction to find that Joe was only a couple of feet from us. He walked right up next to me, pulling me into his protective boundaries. He put a quick kiss on my cheek before turning to greet Chris.
"I'm Joe," he said, with his hand extended.
Chris shook it. "Chris."
"Chris and I know each other from Columbia," I said. I looked at Chris. "Joe's Sarah's brother."
"Ahhh!" he said. "The doctor?"
"No."
"The app guy, then?"
Joe gave him a nod and a cordial smile. "The app guy."
"It was nice to meet you," Chris said, picking up an empty glass from a nearby table. "And great to see you, Lululemon-pretty-women."
It wasn't uncommon for Chris to add something to the already ridiculous nickname so I just smiled and waved at him as he walked away. I shifted so I could focus on Joe.
"I can't leave you alone for five minutes," he said with an easy smile that had my stomach in knots.
"That was not five minutes," I said.
"Either way, I had to come over here and fight Fabio off of you with a stick."
"You didn't have to," I said. "You could have just let him stay over here. All he wanted to do was ask me out."
"Did he really?" Joe asked, looking around.
I giggled at the way he got protective, and he took me into his arms. The music was in the background from where we were standing, but he swayed with me in his arms, dancing to the beat.
"I saw you over there talking to Ethan and them," I said as we swayed.
"He's trying to make me start acting," he said.
"Really?"
He laughed. "No. I'm kidding. No actor tries to talk another guy in becoming an actor. His friend, Michael, is a sports agent. They're talking about making a sports app. They need me for what I know about software design, so we're partnering up."
"You looked really handsome from where I was standing," I said. I bit my lip and pretended to be shy. "I saw you over there across the room, making deals with big shots and so-and-so's."
He put his hand on the small of my back. "I saw you from across the room, too," he said. "Talking to some other, no-good so-and-so."
"I would have talked to him a lot sooner if I would have known it would wind you up like this."
He smiled. "I’m sorry Ethan drug me off."
I let out a little laugh. "I was just messing with you about doing it sooner," I said. "I don't mind hanging with Rebecca and Eli while you make deals and sign contracts and whatnot."
He smiled at me with an adoring smile. "I still have that picture," he said.
"You do?"
"Uh-huh. It's on my dresser."
"I have it, too—on my phone, anyway. Drake texted it to me."
Right then, Joe caught sight of someone he knew, and he paused to smile and wave at them. I did the same even though I didn't know the man. He came over, and Joe introduced him as one of Saul's friends. I shook his hand, and we made small talk with him for a few minutes. He told me a story about Joe taking a boat without permission when he was a little boy, and it truly had me laughing.
Joe and I danced a few songs and watched some items get auctioned off before dinner was served. After dinner, there was more dancing and entertainment including some professional ballroom dancers and a magician. Joe and I talked with his family and the others around us, but we were virtually inseparable, and our conversation and attention, for most of the evening, was centered on each other.
Ethan pulled him away for a few minutes near the end of the evening to talk to Michael again, but aside from that, Joe stuck beside me, a fact for which I was extremely grateful. He was the life of the party, and being on his arm was fun and effortless. He let me speak for myself, but also stepped in to field certain questions or comments for me, and this left me feeling protected and cared for.
It was the best night ever.
"You didn't buy anything," he said, once the last item was auctioned off. He was sitting on the edge of his chair, and I was standing next to him. We had just finished talking to a couple that had walked up to our table.
"Neither did you," I said.
"I didn't want anything."
I smiled. "Neither did I."
"What would you have bid on?"
"Me?" I asked. "Probably the iPad."
"No, I mean if you could choose anything."
"Oh, you mean not just from the stuff they had here tonight?"
"Yeah."
"Paper."
"Paper?"
I nodded. "I'm a paper junky. I love to draw on beautiful paper."
"I was thinking about it," he said.
"About paper?"
He smiled. "No, not about paper."
"About what, then?"
"About you staying at Sarah's place till August."
"What about it?"
"You should do it."
I smiled, and he scowled at me. "I'm serious. I wish you would. I really don't care for you living with a guy."
"It's just Drake."
"I hate to say it like this, but I know it's just Drake, and you're just friends and everything, but I still don't want you to do it."
"Well, that's my best option," I said.
"Better than just staying at Sarah's? Moving into the bedroom? Sprawling out? Taking the place over?"
"That's not an option."
"Yes it is. It's the best option of all as far as I'm concerned."
"You know I can't take over her rent, Joe."
"I know, but I can."
"You're not doing that. I can't let you
do something like that. That's just not even an option."
He smiled. "I assure you, Lu, it's a much better option than having you stay at that guy's house."
I stared right into his eyes. "It's just for a few months," I said.
"That's too long."
He stood and pinched my elbow lightly to urge me toward the door with the rest of the family who was standing in a group. I glanced at them to find that they were looking at us like they were waiting.
"Where's Ethan?" Saul asked as we approached.
"He left a little earlier," Joe said.
"So do we have everybody?" Saul asked, looking around.
"Yep," Joe said. He came up behind me, holding me close to him right there in front of everybody.
His mom shot us a look that said she was maybe a bit surprised by how affectionate her son was being with me. I couldn't say as I blamed her because I was surprised by it, too.
Chapter 14
That same limo was waiting for us when we stepped outside. Joe and I hung at the back of the pack while his parents and Eli and Rebecca climbed in. I was about to do the same, but Joe stepped in front of me, leaning over to speak to his family from outside the open door.
"I'm not ready to take her home yet," he said. He glanced up the street and then at me. "Are you up for a little walk?"
I smiled and nodded since I would have done just about anything to avoid getting dropped off right then.
He patted the top of the limo. "You guys go ahead," he said. "We'll take a cab home when we're ready."
"You sure?" I heard his dad ask.
"Yep, I'll talk to you later, love you."
I heard the women yell back that they loved him too as he closed the door. Seconds later, I was standing on the sidewalk looking at Joe as the limo pulled away. It was fairly busy with other people leaving the event, so another car pulled into the spot right when the limo pulled away.
Joe and I took off up the street. We were in Midtown, not far from Times Square, and we headed in that general direction. We walked for about an hour, talking about nothing and everything, and remarking on things and people we saw on the street. I had been around Joe, so I knew a bit about his persona—I knew he was smart and likable—but I didn't really know him yet. As we walked and talked, I discovered new, unexpected elements of his personality. I saw how compassionate and kind he was, even with strangers. As if I didn't have it bad enough for the guy, I now respected and admired his spirit. I was basically putty in his hands.
We stopped at a traditional diner. An Elvis song was playing on the jukebox and the checkerboard floors with chrome and red accents had me feeling like I had just stepped into the backseat of a '57 Chevy.
Joe and I had been walking for a while, so my feet were aching. As we got settled in our booth, I kicked off my (Rebecca's) shoes, letting out a sigh of relief as I flexed my aching toes. I got so carried away with stretching my feet and legs that I accidently touched Joe's leg under the table. He was in the middle of loosening his tie and stretching his neck by tilting his chin from side to side when I did it. He unbuttoned the top two buttons of his shirt, smiling at me.
"Are you playing footsie with me?" he asked.
I wanted to say something witty, but his smile left me with too little brainpower. I was trying in vein to think of a good response about playing footsie when our waitress walked up. I was, no kidding, thinking of the words saved by the bell about not having to say my rushed comeback when I turned and saw that the woman's nametag actually said Belle. She smiled and introduced herself, placing menus in front of us, but I was so tickled by the name coincidence thing that it was all I could do to keep from cracking up.
I was somewhat aware of Joe ordering us two cups of decaf before Belle took off with a smile.
"What's so funny?" he asked after she walked away.
"I was thinking of that lady as bell before I even read her name tag. It was just funny how it hit me when I saw that it was actually her name."
"Why were you thinking of her as Belle?" he asked.
I smiled. "I knew you're going to ask me that when I told you, and the truth is that I was saying saved by the bell in my head when she walked up." I giggled a little. "The funny thing is it was silly for me to even thinking about being saved by the bell in the first place. I was just thinking that because I was nervous."
He gave me a slow, amused grin. "Why are you nervous? You're the one playing footsie with me. All I did was point it out."
A wave of anticipation hit me at the confidence he exuded, and I glanced away.
"Tell me what you really feel about S&S," he said.
I smiled at him. "I love it. I can't wait."
"I knew that's what you'd say," he said.
I stared at him from across the table, waiting for him to finish. "But what?" I asked.
"But it's not what you mean," he said. "I think I've spent enough time with you to call your bluff."
I squinted playfully at him. "Oh, so you think you have me all figured out?"
He smiled and raised his hand in surrender. "I'm not saying that, I'm just saying I'd like you to tell me what you really feel about going to live at S&S since it isn't what you're telling everyone else."
His words hit me like a ton of bricks, and I felt my eyes begin to sting at the thought of my fears. I widened my eyes in an effort to let more air hit the surface area of them, thus helping them dry out.
"Why are you making that face?"
"What face?"
"That, with the big eyes."
"Nothing, I said, smiling, blinking, and feeling relieved that the tears had subsided as a result of the distraction.
"Why won't you talk to me about it?" he asked.
The waitress came back with our coffees, and Joe handed her the menus, ordering two slices of pie, one chocolate and one apple.
"Because I don't talk to anybody about it," I said. "It's my own stuff. Tortured artist stuff. Self-doubt, whatever. Not worth discussing."
"Do you think you'll feel a pressure to perform once you're living there?"
I let out a humorless laugh. "That's all I'll feel when I'm living there. That's the whole point. It's basically a scholarship with the expectation that I'll make something great of myself. The whole point of me getting to live there is that I'll perform."
"Well, do you still like making art?"
I paused, talking a deep breath. "Yes," I said, thoughtfully. "I truly do. And I'm very thankful."
"I know you're thankful, Lu. I heard you say that like a hundred times."
"I'm also terrified," I said. "That's probably the part you're picking up on. The part I try not to show anybody."
"Terrified of what?"
"Of not meeting their expectations," I said. "I guess that's what it comes down to. I mean, I know I won't have trouble with conduct or get myself kicked out for that type of thing… I just don't want to let anybody down. I also realize I should be excited about that documentary. It's gonna help my career so much."
"Do you not want to do it?"
"Not really," I said. I stared at him with a completely serious expression. "I'm not the type of person who likes to let people see into my life—my personal space. I'm not looking forward to it, if you want to know the truth." I smiled. "But I've done a lot of things that I wasn't looking forward to, and they turned out great. No one ever said success comes easy. You just have to step out of your box sometimes."
"You're pretty tough," he said after looking me over for a few seconds.
"Not tough enough, if you knew I was bluffing," I said.
"I only know you're bluffing because I care about you," he said.
"I’m more persistent than tough," I said, accidently blowing past his statement about caring for me.
"Those two are one in the same," he said. "It takes one to have the other."
I squinted and smirked as I tried, for a second, to think about what he was saying.
Just then, Belle came up with our pie. S
he set the plates in front of us and asked if we needed anything else before taking off again.
"Have you thought about saying 'no' to the documentary?"
"No. Nobody would say 'no'. It's an honor to get chosen. I guess I'm just trying to set up some mental guidelines for myself so that I don't get on camera and start gushing. I usually keep my insecurities to myself, and I guess I'm just afraid the producers will try to play up that side of it—especially since I'm the newb."
"I'll just go over there when they're interviewing you," Joe said. "I'll keep 'em in line."
I giggled as I took a bite of chocolate pie, but Joe didn't smile.
"Oh, you're just gonna go up there and keep everybody in line?" I asked, teasing him.
He nodded without cracking a smile, which made me smile even more. Finally, he grinned. "I really will if you want me to, though. There's no reason you shouldn't be able to have someone with you when they're filming."
"I'll be fine," I said. "I'm just trying to talk it out now so I know what I will and won't say—or at least what I should or shouldn't say."
"What are they gonna ask you?" he asked.
I shrugged. "I don't know. We're still at the very beginning of all of this. I barely just got accepted to S&S and then they told me I was doing the film, too."
"What is S&S?" he asked.
He already knew that it was artist housing, and that I'd be staying there rent-free for two years starting in August. I knew by the way he phrased his question that he wanted to get more of a feel for what it was all about.
"Theo Duval," I said. "He's French-Canadian. An artist and art dealer. He used to struggle to make ends meet as an artist in New York, and he always wished he had a place to sleep and shower so that he could concentrate on his art rather than live frustrated, trying to make the bills. Anyway, when he made enough money, he bought a whole building. You know which one. The first floor is a gallery, and the second is artist housing. There are thirty artists living there at any given time."
"I knew a little about the place," he said. "I actually went in there one time. I just didn't know that guy's story."
"He's really cool," I said. "The bulk of the documentary will be centered around him."
Not Your Average Joe (Shower & Shelter Artist Collective Book 2) Page 9