Falsies (The Makeup Series Book 1)

by Olive East

  He raised his blond eyebrows. “I’m intrigued. Come in.”

  I earned my admittance. Boden bum-rushed me immediately, and I let him. I took the time to focus on the dog while Brooks focused on me. All I wanted was to put off telling him what was going on for as long as possible.

  “Were you at some concert earlier today?” he asked, throwing me off.

  Realizing for the first time since meeting him that my appearance might matter, I stood up and brushed the dog hair off my black and majorly distressed t-shirt. It was actually one of my favorites because it somehow managed to minimize my chest and hips while defining my waist. That was no easy task.

  “I went to Sadie’s straight from work.”

  “And where would work be?” I could tell he was trying to keep the surprise off his face. Everything on me was black with holes in it and my pointy-toed flats had skulls embroidered on them.

  “Young and Beautiful. It’s a tattoo parlor downtown. It’s actually an apprenticeship that I hope turns into a full time gig.”

  He raised his eyebrow, something I had him doing a lot, and motioned for me to follow him to the kitchen. The clean and modern feel of the house flowed from the entrance to the back. The only thing that struck me as odd was there were no pictures anywhere. Maybe I only noticed because I like to draw pictures, but it made me want to get to know him better.

  What’s his deal? How can a single guy work such long days and keep such a neat home and be so nice and so sexy?

  Brooks pulled out a stool from under the dark granite island that comprised most of the space and then walked around to the other side.

  “That must be interesting,” he said.

  “Are you messing with me?” A quick scan of the room didn’t reveal any hidden cameras.

  “What?” He laughed. “No. I’ve never met a tattoo artist before, so it’s interesting to me. Isn’t it?”

  I sat carefully so the thick leather cushion wouldn’t make an unpleasant noise, then wondered how many other people would’ve just sat without worrying about such a silly thing. Then having that thought made me feel even weirder.

  “No. Well, yes—but I’ve wanted to be a tattoo artist since my dad took me with him to get his first ink when I was nine. So, while I can see why it seems like an alternative path to some people, for me it only makes sense.”

  I bit my lip to keep any more words from escaping my mouth. Everything at least semi-interesting about my life involved my dad in some way, but talking about him was a horrible idea.

  Brooks nodded as if he completely understood me and began pulling pots and pans out from under the counter. Shiny and free-of-cooked-on-grease pots and pans. Either he was planning on using them to club me over the head or he actually scoured them after cooking—unlike me.

  “Go on,” he encouraged like he knew I had more to say. He filled the pot with water from the tap and set it on the stove before pulling mushrooms and broccoli out of the fridge. Brooks was clearly on a mission.

  “I’m sorry,” I said, feeling totally mortified. “Am I interrupting something? Are you expecting company?” Probably some lovely blonde with perfect straight hair and a great body who’d never be caught dead in a tattoo parlor. I stood up.

  “I wasn’t expecting company, but she showed up anyway and I’d like her to stay.” He poured oil into the pan and gave me a smile that sent all kinds of feelings to the pit of my stomach.

  “You’re cooking for me?” I was so baffled I did one of those hands-to-the-chest moves.

  “Well, you said you just came from work. Aren’t you hungry?”

  I sat back down, less carefully this time. “I am.”

  “Good.” He nodded. “Me too.” He swung around as if dancing and took a box of pasta out of the cupboard—the good kind, not store brand. In the brief second the door was open I could see everything was labeled. I wondered if he’d make me a label for my Mountain Dew.

  “So you were across the street?”

  “Uh huh. It didn’t go very well. We had a fight.”

  While he was chopping the produce with the kind of skill only a doctor could have, he asked, “Am I supposed to be surprised? You and Sadie don’t seem to have much in common.”

  As happy as it made me that he knew I wasn’t like her, I wondered how well he knew her to begin with. A different girl probably would just ask the question instead of continually thinking about it, but not me.

  “It wasn’t just with Sadie, it was with Aaron too.”

  “Now that surprises me.” He put the pasta in the boiling water while I enjoyed the show. He moved with such skill, such purpose, it made me think about the way he’d move on a dance floor or in bed.

  “Why’s that?”

  “He’s nice—very likable.”

  “Maybe a little too likable. I dated him before Sadie did.” The words fell out without me really wanting them to. The subject was so awkward and hard to discuss that Sadie and I both had trained ourselves not to talk about it. We’d gotten so good at it that sometimes I questioned if he and I ever really did date, but here I was telling Brooks. I was so worried about the awkward pauses that happened when things slipped out past my filter.

  Brooks put down the wooden spoon and took off his pullover sweater, revealing a fitted navy V-neck tee. It seemed out of place that he’d wear such a hip thing, but I didn’t question the shirt. It looked good on him, the way it pulled taut over his pecs. Of course, as he was tugging the sweater up over his head my eyes sailed down to his waist. They weren’t disappointed and I was rewarded with a sliver of pale but toned torso.

  “That’s interesting, yet somehow not surprising.” I snapped my eyes back up to meet his but I thought I had been caught. A smirk pulled at his lips.

  He stopped cooking long enough to pour us both a glass of what looked like vodka, which had been already sitting out on the counter in a decanter. Before he gave me my glass he added a splash of cranberry juice and one ice cube.

  “I figured this story could use a drink to go along with it.” He lightly tapped our glasses together, making a satisfying clink, and we both drank—he more deeply than I. “But, I am adding to the delinquency of a minor,” he teased.

  “I can handle it,” I told him with fake exasperation.

  “Tell me,” he nudged.

  “We met two years ago at a sign language class.” I shrugged, not wanting to bore him with the details. Really, the story seemed more interesting than it was.

  “Sign language—that’s different.”

  I hoped interesting and different weren’t his code words for weird and peculiar.

  “It counted as my foreign language and it helps me with finger dexterity for tattooing and sketching.” I smiled, remembering the first time I saw Aaron, who was a TA for the class at the time. “Aaron contracted spinal meningitis at eighteen months old and had significant hearing loss. He had a hearing aid and could communicate orally and everything but he still learned to sign. Then when he got the cochlear implant he got into interpreting.” I traced my finger along the smooth countertop.

  “It was cheesy love at first sight. Until it wasn’t. I thought I was going to marry that boy. We were so annoyingly in love. Everything was great until I got sick…” I trailed off, hoping he wouldn’t notice. I could’ve kicked myself for saying all the stuff about Aaron. Brooks never asked for his life story and I wasn’t sure I should be talking about it.

  Brooks’s cooking was really starting to smell brilliant with all the spices he was using, and the drink was exactly what I needed. I let the comfortable feeling his house gave me sink in. I hoped it took him another hour to cook—I hoped it took us two hours to eat—I hoped the night could last forever.

  “You’re trying to gloss over the good parts of this story, but I’m going to make you sing for your dinner.” With his long, sexy fingers, he motioned for me to lean forward on my stool and fed me a spoonful of the sauce he’d been preparing in the pan. I adored the taste and the gesture.


  “Okay, well, when I was sick”—I purposefully didn’t pause so he couldn’t ask me to elaborate—“Sadie and Aaron would spend a lot of time together caring for me.” I didn’t like talking about my darker days, but a part of me couldn’t stop telling him about my life. My dad, being sick, it was like I was bringing them up to get them out in the open. Like I was trying to sabotage myself already. Yet with Brooks I didn’t feel so worried about it.

  He didn’t press the sick issue or seem concerned by it, though, so I went on. “I could tell they were developing a thing for each other. Sadie became increasingly interested in Aaron while I found myself less and less into him, and I didn’t want to keep them apart so I ended things with him.”

  “That’s a really grown-up way to handle the situation. It also seems that maybe Aaron was changing and becoming more attractive to Sadie while you were growing up. I really can’t imagine you two being interested in the same guy.”

  “Right. Sadie and Aaron were getting closer; it was like I could feel him losing interest in me, and why wouldn’t he? Sadie’s beautiful and funny and knows how to wear clothes properly.” I looked down at my too-long sleeves.

  Brooks didn’t say anything and I feared I’d divulged too much. Why would I think it was a good idea to further point out my shortcomings? He dropped everything to top off both our glasses, then let the food simmer while he sat on the stool next to mine. He had to hunch forward and fold his legs up to fit his large frame in the small space, but he did it anyway.

  With Brooks across from me I had felt like I was spilling my guts to an anonymous bartender, but with us on the same side it was different—intimate, even.

  “That actually sounds admirable.”

  “I think Aaron would disagree.”

  “Well, how long did it take for him to date Sadie after that?”

  “Not very long,” I admitted. He was leaning in so close I could feel his warmth and smell lingering hints of his cologne.

  “I can’t believe you all managed to stay friends.”

  “It took a little time. And obviously things are better off with Sadie and Aaron together—they’ll be married soon.”

  He shook his head. “You’re so different.”

  “You keep saying that.” My gaze traveled to the cool gray tile floor. “Is that bad?”

  Brooks laughed one low chuckle that shook his shoulders. “This isn’t sixth grade, Ollie. Though you probably remember it much more clearly than I do.”

  I smiled even though all I wanted was clarification. “What do you mean?”

  “Being different is good. Really good.”

  “Maybe for other people.”

  “What about you?”

  “What about me?”

  He leaned in even closer until our legs were flush against one another. “You said things are better off. Are you better off?”

  “I—I think so.” It was getting hot. Did he know what he was doing to me? I had to assume not, because he wasn’t really doing much. It just seemed like a lot to me.

  “Good.” He stood up and went back to the stove, appearing unfazed by me and how close we’d been. “How long were you with Aaron?”

  “Just shy of a year.” I didn’t want to talk about it. Talking about him in Brooks’s perfect home with perfect him seemed like a sin.

  “So then what happened?”

  “I just told you.” I sighed as I sipped my cocktail.

  “Yeah, I know. But I want the details.”

  “It ended. Things always end.” His smile faded and it hurt my heart that I was the one who did that. Being around Brooks, his smile, his charm, somehow made it seem…less important. The details of the end were cloudy and distant when Brooks was so close.

  “Not always, Ollie, but you’ll find that out one day. Food’ll be ready in just a minute.”

  “I can set the table.”

  “No need. We can eat right here, but the plates are there and silverware is here.” He pointed to a cabinet and the drawer right below it to his left.

  After I took my first bite, all I could think about was how it wasn’t fair that he was such a good cook too, but most things aren’t fair. We sat in silence for a few minutes and ate. It was nice not being questioned, but I wouldn’t mind being the questioner.

  “What animal hospital do you work at?” I asked in between bites.

  “The huge specialty one on Camp Run Road.”

  “So then you have a specialty?” I stabbed at my pasta, unable to hide my desire to eat it all, including what was on his plate.

  “I’m focusing on minimally invasive procedures, like laparoscopy, and I’m really getting into different kinds of robotic surgery.”

  I was in the presence of a tall, hot blond genius who was funny and an excellent cook.

  “That must be so hard—you know, when you can’t save them.”

  “Do you always go for the negative first? And I’m an excellent doctor—I’ll be saving a lot of pets. I already have.”

  Boden was quietly eating his own dinner, and not begging for our food at all. People who don’t love dogs don’t have souls, so those who save their lives must have super good souls, I reasoned.

  The conversation continued to flow freely but I stopped at two drinks. I didn’t want Brooks to think I was an alcoholic and I needed to be able to drive home. The night, as nicely as it had turned out, was winding down. It felt like that time right before bed when you want to be alone, and I wanted to leave before I overstayed my welcome.

  When Brooks excused himself and disappeared down the dark corridor, I found my way back to the foyer where I’d left my purse. My phone boasted three missed calls, nothing from Sadie, and a text from Aaron.

  Aaron: Stop avoiding me.

  Aaron’s text made the reality of my shitty situation jump back in the forefront of my mind. Escaping, even if it was only for a few hours, helped me forget but it didn’t change my life. If I wasn’t wearing the lashes, and with Brooks, I’d probably cry.

  “Can I talk you into sleeping in the guest bedroom tonight? You know that’s what it’s there for…guests.”

  At the sound of his voice I jumped, sending my cell back into my bag on the floor. I hadn’t even heard him enter the room, but when I turned around he was holding the blankets from the other night, a toothbrush still in the package, and one of his t-shirts. I wanted to cry even more and for completely different reasons.

  “You want me to stay?” I really didn’t get it. Did he view me as some kind of experiment? A charity case? Did I somehow get transported into a nineties movie and he was talking to me to win a bet?

  “Well, yeah.” He shrugged and thrust the things toward me nervously, if I wasn’t mistaken. “But don’t sneak out on me this time, okay? I make a pretty mean breakfast too.”

  “I’m sorry I…”

  Brooks put his hand up. “You don’t have to apologize—just stay.”

  “Okay, but I still want to sleep down here.” He was being so nice and it was more than I deserved. All I wanted to do was stare at that text and think about Aaron until I cried myself to sleep. If I was in the room across the hall, he might hear me, and if he heard me he’d find out how pathetic I was and I didn’t want that—I wouldn’t do that.

  “All right, Ollie. Maybe next time you’ll be ready for upstairs.” With a magnificent wink that made me blush, Brooks told me goodnight.

  As I lay in my favorite spot in my new favorite house, I smiled. A real megawatt smile, all because he said “next time.”

  Chapter Seven

  Unfortunately, the euphoric effects of Brooks didn’t last long once I was away from him. I found myself in that familiar bad place where shadows were as wearable as an oversized sweatshirt and sleep didn’t come easily. I could almost call that place home.

  Sadie was somehow even more distant than normal, and although Aaron kept calling me, I kept ignoring him. I had no idea what their relationship was going through. Everything could’ve been fine. May
be things between them were going so well they just didn’t want me hanging around. That didn’t explain why Aaron kept calling me, but it was what I wanted to pretend was happening.

  After a full week of absolutely no social life outside of the shop and class, I decided I desperately needed retail therapy. When I walked through the glass doors and saw all the weekend shoppers at Nordstrom, sensory overload kicked in. The familiar smells of new shoes and perfume samples, coupled with the promise of new crap I didn’t need, calmed my nerves, though. Shopping, even if it was just window shopping, always perked me up. All the new and shiny things served as a reminder there was still good in the world. I guess that’s why I hated shopping with Val so much. She took away my happy place.

  Maybe Brooks was at the mall? He lived close, and I’m sure he needed clothes from time to time. Everywhere I went in the past few days I was hoping to run into him. It’s not as easy as you’d think to randomly bump into a person—especially when I was only going to class, the shop, and the grocery store.

  A group of Starbucks-carrying, Ugg-wearing, Hollister-shopping prepubescent girls blocked my path to the lingerie section. Dressed head to toe in oversized black, I stood and watched in openmouthed shock while they discussed which panties the boys in their lives liked best.

  I wasn’t naïve, or at least I didn’t think I was, and I was also a girl who loved sexy panties. I didn’t wear them for someone else. I wore them for me, because I was the one who felt them all day. I was the only one who saw them. That was probably my whole problem. If I was more poetic I could think of some metaphor about wearing lace thongs but no one ever seeing them. But why were these young girls wearing panties for someone else?

  Just as the conversation delved into the pros and cons of silk, my phone loudly and embarrassingly tri-toned with a new text message, causing the herd to turn and look at me like I was the Wicked Witch.

  Ignoring their attempts at icy stares, I checked my message from Aaron. It was a picture of me from a few seconds earlier as I eavesdropped.

  Aaron: Caught you.