Chapter 7
Justin
When I pull up in front of Dragonfly Ink, I’m nervous as shit. I went on a few real dates in high school, but they hadn’t scared me. Now I’m about to go on a fake date and my balls are tied in knots. I’m not worried about going with the flow and acting the boyfriend. I’m freaked out because I want to make an impression. Something I never worry about. And I’m clueless about how to do it while on this sham of a date. My charm hasn’t gotten me far with this girl.
Yet.
As soon as I open the shop door, Allie’s coming at me. Hot damn. She’s wearing a dress. Black. Short. Tight. It has only one sleeve, her tattoo acting as the other and her bare shoulder gleaming under the track lights. “Hey,” I say as she lifts a coat. I reach for it, then hold it out for her. “You look beautiful.”
“Thanks,” she responds hastily, sliding into the coat and flying past me out the door.
Opening the car door for her, I notice the reason for her quick flight. Mandy, Shaya, and Todd peer at us from the shop’s window. Todd gives me a thumbs-up. I give them all a quick wave and hurry around the car, wanting to get away from our audience as quickly as Allie clearly does.
“Where to?” I ask, starting the car. She gives me directions as I try not to stare at the sleek length of her legs ending in sexy heels. She finishes the directions with, “By the way, you look pretty good too.”
“Thanks,” I say. I don’t share that it took me for-fucking-ever to pick out my clothes. I finally ended with a black Armani button-up shirt, frayed jeans, and low black boots. Not exactly the outfit of the year, but with my nerves in overdrive, I couldn’t fathom what to wear to an art show.
The silence in the car is awkward for the first few minutes, until I ask, “So should I know anything about your ex? Will he be breathing down my neck all night?”
She waves a hand. “He’ll be fine. I just don’t want anything to do with that revolving door.”
The revolving door comment hits my conscience. Though I’ve never slept with more than one girl a night, the next night could always mean someone new. At that thought, I decide to stay off the topic of her ex. “Is this a good friend who’s showing at the gallery or an art friend?”
“Both. We’ve known each other since high school. I haven’t had much time to see her lately, which is another reason I didn’t want to miss the show.”
“Another art geek?”
“Yes. She was never as geeky as me, and obviously way more driven, considering she’s doing the whole gallery thing.”
“I’m going to be honest, I didn’t know there was an art gallery in the area.”
“You from around here?”
“Been here three years, but I grew up in Grand Rapids.”
“Actually, there are two art studios around here. One is more a mix of photography and art, and the one we’re going to is mainly paintings and sculpture but also offers classes. But yeah, art galleries exist outside of New York or London or Grand Rapids. Smaller scale, with less commas on the price tags.”
I can smell her perfume, something clean and flowery scented. It fits her perfectly. “Your friend…”
“Hannah.”
“She paints?”
“No. She does constructed sculpture.”
“Constructed sculpture?”
She nods. “Instead of molding the piece or chiseling it from stone, it’s built.”
“You like her work?”
She glances at me. “Well, yeah.”
I give her a look that says, Tell me the truth.
Allie laughs and the low, husky sound fills the interior of the car. Damn. She could giggle and it would be sexy. She pushes auburn waves behind a shoulder. “I do like her art. I would love to own a piece, if I had the extra money. She has major talent.”
I slow as we near the address she gave me. It’s in an older, renovated part of town filled with boutiques and little restaurants. Since the gallery parking lot is full, I pull a U-turn and park on the opposite side of the street. “If the amount of cars out here is any indication, she must do well.”
Allie nods. “Hannah eventually wants to make it to New York.”
I kill the engine and shoot her a look. “Any last words before we become a public couple?”
Her hands pause on the seat belt as she glances at me. “Thanks for coming. Hopefully, it will be tame and we’ll just have fun checking out art and sipping cheap wine.”
“You. Me. Art. Fun. Cheap wine. Sounds good,” I say as she reaches for the door handle. “Hey, let your date get that.”
She rolls her eyes but lets out a soft, nervous giggle. I was right. Her giggle is sexy too.
After opening the door, I take her hand and we walk across the street. She doesn’t pull away, and the way our hands fit together feels perfect. We hang our coats on a rack in the entrance, and as soon as we enter the studio, a waitress dressed in a top hat offers up a tray of drinks. I almost laugh at the ridiculous display. Gummy worms lie at the bottom of a plastic flute of sparkling wine and red wine fills a plastic glass with a flashing pink stem. Keeping my inner wine snob in check, I reach for the red wine. Allie goes for the flute of sparkling wine. Hand in hand we start roaming the huge gallery space, which is split down the middle by sleek white panels. Soft Spanish guitar music plays in the background.
Our first stop is a metal bird with long wings extended, perched on a motorcycle about half its true size. It’s kind of cool.
“Can you tell what it’s made of?” Allie asks before sipping her wine.
I look over the piece more closely, enjoying the feel of her hand in mine. Never thought I’d enjoy something so innocent. “A thin, shiny metal?”
“Close. Large paper clips. Cool, huh?”
I’m examining the piece again when a loud “Hey, girl!” sounds behind us.
As Allie turns and breaks our hand connection, she’s enveloped in fuzzy, bright green arms. The words “You made it!” come out of the fuzz. Allie laughs, returns the hug, and the owner of the fuzzy arms finally materializes. I’m looking at a girl who’s wearing a funnel-collar coat that’s impossibly fuzzy and green. The funnel is higher than her spiked pink hair.
She grabs Allie’s arm and leans close. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know Jazz would bring Trevor.” Allie’s mouth tightens but the pink-haired woman doesn’t notice. “And when did he get back? It’s like he materialized out of thin air. I know you—”
“Hannah,” Allie says, cutting her off and gesturing to me. “I’d like you to meet Justin.”
“Oh.” Hannah’s bright blue eyes drift over me for several seconds. “Well hello, Justin.” She gives Allie an approving look. “Didn’t know you had it in you, Al, but he’s delicious.”
Allie gives a tight half smile.
I grin at Hannah. “I’m not sure if I should say thanks or if Allie should.”
Hannah cocks her head. “Maybe both?”
A guy in a pink top hat clamps on Hannah’s elbow and whispers in her ear. She listens intently, then lets him drag her away while waving in our direction.
“She’d fit in New York perfectly,” I say, then take a sip of wine. It’s horrid. Or maybe I’m just used to the really good stuff.
“Yeah, she was flamboyant even in high school.” Allie motions forward with her wine glass. “Let’s check out the rest of her collection and then find somewhere inconspicuous to hang.”
I follow her to the next display and almost run into her when she suddenly stops.
A few people away, Trevor stands next to a woman in a dress much smaller and tighter than Allie’s. The woman cackles loudly before Trevor leans down and says something in her ear. A slow smile spreads across her face.
Allie stands frozen, watching them. The look on her face has my gut clenching with the realization that maybe this girl is untouchable because she already belongs to him. She turns abruptly and wraps an arm around mine. Her nails dig into my arm as she drains the rest of her wine. The hand holding the empty glass trembles a bit.
“Hey, you okay?” I ask softly.
Her lips unclench from a grimace and she nods. As a waiter passes, she exchanges her glass for another gummy-worm sparkling wine. She drains half of it in seconds, then spins toward the closest display. “I’m good,” she says stiffly. She gestures to the sculpture in front of us. “What do you think of this one?”
I glance at the piece, some sort of tower with crazy metal shit spilling down its sides. Like a cellular tower vomiting on itself. “It’s all right,” I say, though I couldn’t give a fuck what it looks like. Not when Allie appears shell-shocked.
She tugs at my arm and robotically says, “Let’s go check out the pieces on the other side.”
Our fake date has suddenly turned sour. I’m definitely not anywhere near charming her. Not sure it’s possible now.
We wander past people, some of whom Allie nods to vaguely, and check out art, but her mind is clearly far from this room. Far from me or fun or even art. Her hand stays clamped around mine. When she talks, her voice is a monotone. She’s soon on her third glass of wine. As we browse without really seeing, a few people come over and talk with us. Each of them says something about Trevor being here. I’m getting the idea they must have been together for quite a while and that their breakup was big news when it happened.
After touring a bunch of pieces that I hardly pay attention to, we end up at the back of the studio next to a wall of paintings. Seconds later Trevor, without his scantily clad date, comes up to us.
Allie stiffens and her hand slides to my shoulder.
Trevor steps in front of her. “So tell me, Al, you’re aware I wouldn’t know sculpture from a pile of turds, what do you think of the exhibit?”
Allie blinks as if coming to life, then says steadily, “It’s cohesive. The pieces build on one another and show her strengths. The three she picked as pivotal works do stand out the most. The exhibit is whimsical yet keeps her usual focus on the contrast between nature and technology.”
Trevor takes a long drink of red wine. “Then it’s good?”
She nods. “More than good. It’s actually up there with amazing.”
Twisting bleached hair over her shoulder, Trevor’s date slides closer to him and wraps an arm around his waist. Her cool gaze settles on us. “Hello, Allie.”
“Jazz,” Allie says frostily.
“Good to see you without your claws out,” she says, and Allie’s eyes turn to slits. Ignoring the murderous glare across from her, Jazz glances at me. “You going to introduce him?”
Allie’s hand glides slowly from my shoulder to wrap around the back of my neck. “This is Justin. Justin,” she nods toward the woman dressed in two feet of fabric, “this is Jazz.” Her fingers curl into the hair along my neck. “And of course, you’ve already met Trevor.”
“You enjoying the exhibit?” Jazz asks me, ignoring Allie’s rudeness.
Before I can answer, Allie presses to my side and winds her other arm across my waist. “He’s enjoying being with me.”
Trevor’s expression tightens while Jazz gives me a flat smirk.
I glance down at the girl wrapped around me. “It is hard to notice the art next to Allie.”
Trevor’s about to say something that I’m betting will match his scowl when Hannah enters—more like crash-lands in—our little group. The conversation turns to art then the past, and it’s obvious these four people went to school together. Hannah talks the most. Jazz watches Trevor. Trevor watches Allie. Allie’s hands keep roaming over me.
Though her wandering hands are a turn-on, the whole thing pisses me off more with each passing second. Yes, I know this is a fake date. Yes, my intentions toward Allie aren’t exactly noble. I simply want to get her in bed and move on to the next conquest. But after witnessing her obvious obsession with him, and noticing that he is a complete asshole, I can’t help feeling used. I don’t like the idea that she’s hitting on me to make him jealous—it occurs to me I might even be her way of getting him back. This thought gets me truly pissed. Normally, I don’t mind girls using me for my body but that’s something entirely different. This is emotional warfare and I don’t do emotions. And I don’t get used unless I’m down with it. I’m not down with this.
Unable to take the situation a second longer, I murmur an “excuse us” and drag her into the hallway that leads to the bathrooms. She follows quietly but looks stunned when I push her body to the wall but don’t shove mine against hers. Rather put my palms on each side of her head.
Her gray eyes grow wide. “Justin…”
A pant of anger escapes me. “You keep running those pretty hands all over me and I might take you up on your offer.”
She blinks at me in shock until something catches her attention over my shoulder and her body visibly stiffens.
My temples pound with outrage. Aware that her prick of an ex is not only behind us but also extracting a response from her, I give in to my anger. My body crushes hers into the wall. With a swift bend of my head, I catch her lips and stop her gasp, loving the touch of her lip ring pressing against my mouth. Under me, she is as unyielding and still as the sculptures we viewed. Indignation has me not caring. My hips grind against hers as my tongue strokes into her mouth. Though this is about showing her she can’t fuck with me, I can’t help notice the taste of her mouth on my tongue is as sweet as the wine she drank.
I’m about to pull back and get some control when her lips and body soften. The ire of my kiss spirals into something else as she responds. Her fingers grip my shoulders. Her tongue slides with mine. Her response wipes out my anger. I forget about her ex and that we’re in public, and deepen the kiss.
Cupping the sides of her face, I push into her and she moans ever so slightly into me. Ah hell. My outrage fizzles at her response. I want her now. I tear my mouth from hers and reach for her hand. “Come on. Let’s go.”
With heavily lidded eyes, she nods.
Lust pounding in my brain, I haul her past an open-mouthed Trevor, through the crush of bodies, grab our coats at the entrance, and cross the street before the gloss of lust dissipates from her gaze.
Still dazed—I’m hoping it’s my kiss not the wine—she lets me help her into the passenger seat. Rounding the front of the car, I think of where we could go. My dorm room? Shit, I should have used my ridiculous allowance to get an apartment instead of being such a lazy ass. Her place? Does she have roommates? Does she live alone?
I slide into the driver’s seat and ask, “Where to?”
Allie remains facing forward. Her bottom lip quivers. Her clasped hands tremble in her lap. She draws in a deep breath, then suddenly bursts into tears.
Her soft sobs echo in the car.
Ah shit. Her tears kill my lust. I have no idea how to deal with a crying woman.
“I’m such a fool. I’m so—s-sorry,” she sputters.
“Hey,” I say. I’m desperately trying to think of a way to calm her down when the face of her dickhead ex pops up outside her window.
“Oh no, please go,” she wails.
He raps a knuckle on the glass.
What’s with this fucking circus? I just want to have sex with that voice, those legs, that lip ring. All this other shit is getting ridiculous. I start the car. He pounds on the window. I’m out of the car in seconds, leaning across the roof. “Get your hands off the glass.”
“I want to talk to Al,” he sneers.
“She doesn’t want to talk to you. So step away from the car and move on.”
“Not till I talk with Al.”
I’d like to pound this prick into the cement, but fighting with her ex while Allie cries in the car might put an even bigger damper on my chances than her tears. “Get it through your head. She doesn’t want to talk,” I say, gritting my teeth.
“Trevor!” Jazz wails from the other side of the street. “What the hell are you doing?”
His face twists in a scowl. “Tell Al I’ll call her later.” He whips around and stalks across the street.
Who is this asshole? I drop into the driver’s seat.
“Thanks for getting rid of him,” Allie whispers, wiping the wetness on her cheeks with shaky fingers.
With a sigh, I reach over, brushing my elbow on her thigh, and she flinches. Getting irritated again, I open the glove box and dig out some old napkins. “Here,” I say, dropping them in her lap.
“Thanks.” She reaches for the crumpled paper as I pull onto the street.
I drive. She wipes at her tears, then lets out a deep sigh. “I thought I could handle it. Obviously I was in la-la land. I didn’t mean to use you that way. I really did think we could go out and have fun.” The napkins are fisted in her lap. “Then I saw them together, freaked out, drank too much wine, and acted like an ass.”
Turning a corner, I shrug but I’m still annoyed. I try to remember I agreed to a fake date but can’t help snapping, “Your relationship must have been pretty serious. Two years and you’re still affected by this asshole dumping you?”
She turns toward the side window. “He didn’t dump me. I left him. And he wasn’t just a boyfriend.”
“What does that mean?”
She leans her forehead on the glass. “My husband.”
Those two words have me feeling like the wind was just knocked out of me. “You were married to him?”
She doesn’t lift her head. “For over a year.”
Fucking married. My hands clench around the steering wheel. I want to punch it. That’s why this guy is such a huge deal to her. I’m pretty sure he’s the reason her eyes always churn with the depth of a stormy gray sky. And why she’s so distant. “You must have been young,” I somehow get out.
“Eighteen.”
I guess a connection. “He cheated on you with Jazz.”
She lets out another sigh. “And others but mostly her. He always goes back to Jazz. Childhood sweethearts.”
“Sounds to me like you were his childhood sweetheart.”
“After Jazz. Always after Jazz.” Her voice is small and sad.
I pull up in front of her shop. “You should have warned me about the past between you two. Maybe I wouldn’t have gotten so pissed off and attacked you.”
Her laugh sounds miserable but it’s still sexy. “I try to pretend the past doesn’t matter. Explaining it makes it matter. Besides, I wasn’t really complaining when you pushed me against the wall.”
At this point, I’m not sure what to make of that. “Allie…”
She reaches for the door handle. “See you Friday. Good night, Justin.”
With those final words, she’s out of my car, leaving me as confused as shit.