“Really?”
“Yeah. There’s something about the human mind that I find fascinating,” I tell him. “But I also like English and drama and, of course, clothes, but that can’t really be a major. The one subject I hate is math. A math major will never, ever happen.”
“Do you play any sports?”
I choke on a laugh. “Are you kidding me?”
Greyson shrugs innocently. “I’m just trying to figure you out, and you never know.”
I glance down at my stylish outfit. “Do I look like I play sports?”
“I don’t know.” He shrugs again. “Maybe you’re hiding a rock hard body under those clothes.”
I roll my eyes. “Oh, whatever. You’re totally feeding me a line right now.”
“I am not,” he protests, biting back a grin.
I roll my eyes so hard they almost get stuck up in my head. “What about you?” I step back and scroll over his lean, toned, smoking hot body. “You could be a sports guy?”
“The only thing I do that is even remotely athletic is going to the gym.”
“Aw, so you work out?” I muse over something. “I think you and I might be polar opposites.”
“Is that a bad thing?"
“Nope. I don’t think so, anyway. I actually told my friend Callie the day I met her that opposites attract and make the best kind of friends.”
“You two seem really close,” he says.
“We are… She’s my best friend,” I tell him. “I like helping her, too.”
He momentarily studies me, his gaze making me feel restless. “Who helps you, though?”
I shrug, getting squirmy over where the conversation is headed. “I’ve always been good at taking care of myself. Besides, her letting me help her helps me, if that makes sense.” I chuckle as I daze off at the lampposts across the street. “We have this list of things she’s afraid to do. I’ve been helping her slowly scratch off stuff and have even done some of the stuff with her. It’s fun, but I still worry about her.”
“That guy she was with at the party,” he says, glancing at a car as it drives by. “That’s the guy she likes, right?”
I nod. “Yeah, there’s a long story behind how they met, too… I think they’d be good together if they could get on the same page. But Callie’s afraid and doesn’t trust many people. And Kayden... Well, I don’t know him very well, but from what Callie’s told me, he has every right to be wary.”
He grows quiet, staring at the intersection ahead of us. “I’d really like to meet her. Callie… I mean… I know she’s important to you.” He offers me a smile. “Maybe sometime in the future the three of us can hang out?”
“Okay.” It seems like such a simple request, but it’s so much more.
He’s talking about the future. Meeting my best friend. Whatever’s happening between us, he sees as a long-term thing, which probably means a lot of dating, hand holding, kissing, intimacy, emotions. I won’t be able to hide behind my smile anymore.
I’m not sure if I’m ready for that.
All I know is that I want it, more than I think I realized.
Chapter 10
Greyson
Friday night, I’m stupidly nervous for some reason. It’s not like Seth and I haven’t hung out. We’ve spent a lot of time together since the poker game. We hung out that night at the Red Ink, drinking well into the morning hours, and we’ve grabbed lunch together, been to a movie, and texted off and on each day in the week since.
Tonight’s date night, and I waver between being excited and wanting to hurl as Seth and I wander past the painted canvases and photographs hanging on the walls. Maybe it’s because I haven’t really done much dating, and I feel a bit out of my element, my full awkwardness shining through.
“So, this is what you do, huh?” Seth squints at a photo of a flower taken at an angle to blur the surroundings.
“In a way, kind of.” I take a sip of my wine as I study him instead of the photo. “I actually prefer taking pictures of people, though.”
“Oh, yes, I remember.” Seth glances at me from the corner of his eye, his lips twitching upward. “When they’re not watching, right?”
I shake my head, reliving the embarrassment all over again. “Actually, yes. And not just with you,” I say as we move to the next exhibit, a canvas splattered with neon colors. “I think the best photos are taken when the person isn’t watching. They’re completely themselves and not so self-conscious.”
“Yeah, I can kind of see that.” He examines the painting in front of us. “No offense, but I don’t really understand how splattering paint across a canvas can be art.”
“No offense taken at all, since I completely agree with you.” I smile at him, grab his arm, and wander toward the back corner, where a few of my photos are being displayed. “What about these? What do you think of them?”
Seth finishes the rest of his wine then angles his head to the side. “I’m not sure… they feel kind of dark and are taken at a really awkward angle.”
I feel like I’ve been punched in the stomach. “Yeah, I guess I can see that.”
Seth turns his head toward me with a sly smile on his face. “I’m fucking with you. I know they’re yours.”
I shake my head, but realize how much I value his opinion. “That was a dick move,” I say in a light tone so he’ll know I’m kidding.
“Sorry. I promise I didn’t mean it, though. I just have a twisted sense of humor.” He turns his concentration to the picture I took of Jenna and Ari on a bridge with the river as their background.
“They didn’t know I was taking it,” I explain, moving up behind him.
He tenses from my nearness, but doesn’t budge. I haven’t been able to stop thinking about the way he kissed me the other night. I was kind of shocked when he allowed me to kiss him, and I was completely floored when he took charge the way he did. I can’t wait to kiss him again. Tonight. Tomorrow night. Kiss and kiss and kiss.
“They look so happy and in love,” he remarks quietly. “And free.”
“Free?”
“To be themselves.” He cups his scarred arm as he stares at the picture. “I kind of envy them in a way.”
“Seth.” I gently place a hand on his arm. “Tell me what happened.”
He shakes his head. “I can’t.”
“Why not? I promise, I’m a good listener. I can be there for you.”
He shakes his head again. “It’s too soon and honestly, I think the story’s a little too dark for you. I love how you don’t see all the ugly in the world… I don’t want to take that away from you.” Summoning a deep breath, he turns around and faces me. “So, you have to tell me what’s up with that giant statue at the front door that totally looks like a penis.” His subject change throws me off a bit, and it takes me a moment to get my footing again.
“Penis statue?” I scratch my head. “I’m not sure which one you’re talking about?”
He aims a finger toward the front door at a tall, blue tinted sculpture.
I shake my head. “Fuck, it really does look like a penis, doesn’t it?”
He laughs. “It does, but I don’t think that’s what it’s supposed to be. The plaque on it said ‘to inspire you.’ It totally did, but not in the way I think it’s meant to.”
“Oh, yeah.” I down the rest of my wine in one swallow. “How did it inspire you, then?”
“It inspired me to never, ever attempt to understand art.” He peeks over his shoulder at my photos. “I like yours, though. They’re the only ones I really get.”
“Just wait until you see Jenna’s.” When intrigue crosses his face, I grab his hand and pull him toward the back of the building. On my way, I swipe two more glasses of wine from of the serving table, then duck behind a curtain that leads to the room where Jenna set up her exhibit.