Friday
It has been two weeks since I came clean to Paul, and it’s been two weeks since he’s kissed me. He holds my hand all the time, so much that I sometimes wonder if I’m going to sprout roots and just be permanently attached to him. But he hasn’t kissed me. Yes, we’ve cuddled on the couch, and I can feel his dick straining against his pants, straining against me, but he still doesn’t kiss me. His lips haven’t touched a single part of my body. Not even once. Not since I bared my soul to him.
Tonight, I need his help with something, and I’m afraid to ask him so I call Garrett, instead. “Do you think you could come over and help me?” I ask.
“What kind of thing do you need help with?” I can tell he’s busy because there’s noise and laughter in the background.
“I need to be painted.”
I hear a door close and the noise vanishes. “Say that again,” he says.
“I need to be painted. Do you remember that contest I told you about? My model dropped out, and I have this kick-ass design I’ve worked on for the past month. I don’t want to miss out. It has a five-thousand-dollar prize.”
“And you think I can paint you?” he scoffs. “I have no artistic ability whatsoever. I can’t even do crafts. None of them. I’m bad at them all.”
“It’s just shading. I’ll transfer the design onto my skin, and then you just paint like a paint-by-numbers kind of thing.” I’m begging. But this design is seriously beastly, and I want to share it with the world. I can win. I know I can. “Don’t worry,” I plead. “I’m not even going to ask you to paint my boobs. I can do that part myself. I just need for you to do my back. Can you do it?”
“I can’t,” he says. “We’re at an event for Cody’s work.”
“Oh.” I let out a breath.
“Why don’t you ask the stud muffin to do it? He’s a f*cking artist, Friday.”
“He’s also…like…boyfriend material.” I feel heat creep up my cheeks.
“You mean he’s, like, totally f*ckable.”
I laugh. “That, too.” I walk out into the kitchen to get a bottle of water from the fridge. Paul is sitting on the couch so I whisper into the phone. “It’s just too intimate for us right now.”
“He’s still withholding the goodies, huh?” Garrett laughs.
I grumble softly and glance at Paul, who gives me a what-the-f*ck look. I can tell he’s trying to hear what I’m talking about, but he’s trying not to let me notice. And I desperately don’t want him to hear me talk about him.
“Ask him,” Garrett says. “Just do it.”
“No.”
“Why don’t you ask a girlfriend?”
“I don’t have any!” I cry. Well, I have a couple. But Reagan is busy and Emily just had a baby two weeks ago, so I can’t ask her. My old college roommate, Lacy, is busy, too. I already tried her.
“Go ask him. Then call me later and tell me how it goes.” He laughs, and then the line goes dead.
“Well, f*ck you very much,” I mumble at the phone. I’m incubating your f*cking baby.
“What’s wrong with you?” Paul asks. He turns the TV off and gets up. His long body gets even taller when he stretches his arms up over his head. I can see that little strip of skin below his T-shirt, and for the first time ever, I see that he has Kelly’s name there.
“You have Kelly’s name on your belly,” I say, pointing like an idiot at his stomach. He tugs his shirt down and scowls at me.
“So what?” he asks.
“So, you have Kelly’s name on your belly,” I say again. I force myself to shrug. “That’s all.”
He narrows his eyes at me. “Mmm hmm,” he hums. “Who was that on the phone?”
“Just Garrett,” I say. Just f*cking Garrett who can’t help me out when I’m desperate. I take a sip of my water.
I don’t know why it upsets me to know that Paul has Kelly’s name inked on his skin. But it kind of does. I’ve seen him without his shirt on before, but I’ve never noticed it until now. She was and always will be a big part of his life because they have a daughter, but it still gets under my skin. I hate that it does, actually.
Paul jerks me from my thoughts when he asks, “And what did you ask Garrett to do for you? And why did he refuse? And why did he call me a stud muffin?” He grins and hitches a hip against counter.
“How did you hear all that?”
He shrugs. “Your volume was really loud.” He stares at me for a minute. I’m pretending that I didn’t hear him. He heaves a sigh and sings, “Fridaaaayy!” He waves his hands in the air wildly. “Earth to Friday.”
“He calls you a stud muffin because you are one.”
A dimple appears in his cheek. “Okay,” he says. “And the rest?” he prompts when I don’t say more. “What did you ask him to do?”
I look around the room. There’s nothing I can use to distract him. “Is Hayley calling you?” I ask.
He rolls his eyes. “She’s with her mom this week. But nice try.”
He’s not going to stop asking. “I asked him to help me with an art project,” I say. I may as well have just spilled my guts out.
“What kind of art project?”
I shrug. “There’s a contest going on at Bounce.” Bounce is a local club, and all the Reed brothers have worked there at one point or another as bouncers, so I know he’s familiar with the place.
“What kind of contest?” he asks.
“A paint contest?” I say. It comes out like a question, even though I didn’t mean for it to.
“The f*cking body paint contest?” Paul asks, and he slams his hand down on the counter. “Are you entering that?”
“I already entered. And I had a model for it, but then she backed out at the last minute. Her grandmother died or something. I don’t know why her grandmother couldn’t have waited until after the contest, but I guess I don’t get any say-so.”
He chuckles. “God, you make me laugh,” he says.
I glare at him.
“So your model backed out and you were going to do what? Paint Garrett?”
“Umm, not exactly.” I raise a finger to my lips and start to nibble the nail.
“Then what?” He throws up his hands.
“I was going to have him paint me.” I look down the hallway. “Maybe Sam could do it. Is he here?” I start in that direction, but Paul grabs my arm and jerks me back. I fall against him.
“There is no f*cking way any man, even Garrett, is going to paint your naked body. No. Absolutely not.” He folds his arms across his broad chest and stares down at me like I’ve lost my mind.
“The entry fee was a hundred dollars and I spent a month working on the design. It’s perfect, and I think I can win. And just when did you become my father?” I ask. I pull back from him.
“Trust me,” he says. “The last thing I want to be is your father.”
“Then stop acting like one.”
He pulls me to him again, and I feel his dick pressed against my lower belly. “Trust me,” he says again. “I don’t feel like a parent when I’m with you.”
“Oh,” I breathe. My heart stutters, and I get this little flutter in my belly that only happens with him.
“Oh,” he mocks. “I’m acting like a jealous boyfriend because I am one.”
I close my eyes and say, “You haven’t even kissed me since I told you about Jacob.”
“You told me you needed time,” he cries softly. “I’ve been right here waiting. Patiently, I might add.” He chuckles.
“Well, quit being so patient!”
He brushes my hair back from my face with gentle fingers and doesn’t say a word. He just stares at me, his eyes soft and full of something I don’t understand. I wish I did. It would make this so much easier.
“So about this contest,” he says.
“Reagan and Emily are both busy.”
“There’s no one else you can get to model?”
“There isn’t enough time to teach them the position.”
“Position?” He grins.
I shove his shoulder.
“I’ll paint you.” His eyes bore into mine. “I’ll enjoy the hell out of it.” His dimple grows deeper and even cuter.
“No.” I shake my head. “You can’t.”
“Why not?”
“Because I’ll be naked!” I cry.
“I know!” he yells back softly. “That’s why I don’t want anyone else doing it!”