That Girl_is_Mine_-_Eve_Cates

THAT GIRL IS MINE

PART ONE Eve Cates

Copyright 2015, EVE CATES All rights reserved Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means without the prior written permission of the author of this book. This book is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to any person, living or dead is purely coincidental. Any actual places, products or events mentioned are used in a purely fictitious manner. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various places/products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission and is by no way sponsored by the trademark owners.

SYNOPSIS PART ONE - Avery Bishop loves her boyfriend, Josh. She loves him so much, that she's willing to put college on hold and travel across the country to California, so he can complete his residency at the Children's Hospital Los Angeles. Needing a place to stay, they move in with Josh's childhood friend, Dylan Thompson, to save on rent. Dylan is a tattoo artist who's hardly ever home - which suits them just fine. He's moody, and gives Avery a strange feeling every time he looks at her. Everything is perfect at first. Then Josh's position at the hospital becomes more and more demanding. It's affecting their relationship, and it means that Avery alone with Dylan more often than she's with Josh. There's no excuse for what happens next, but Dylan has always wanted a girl like Avery and he wants her to be his... Follow Dylan and Avery in That Girl is Mine, a forbidden romance, told in three parts.

CONTENTS SYNOPSIS DEDICATION Prologue Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Chapter 13



DEDICATION To everyone who took a chance…

Prologue

Dylan “Did I just hear you right, dude? You have a girlfriend – a serious girlfriend, and you’re asking if you can both stay at my place for an undisclosed amount of time?” I ask my friend Josh, who moved across the country to New York after graduation to get his medical degree at Duke University. We’ve kept in touch as much as guys do. You know, a phone call or a text here and there. But, I haven’t seen him for the four years he’s been gone. Regardless of the distance, I still consider him one of my best friends. Josh hesitates, and it comes across as static over the long distance call. “Uh…yeah – but just until we find our feet. I don’t want to put you out.” I let out a sigh. “Jeez, man, I don’t know. What happened to never settling down? We’re twenty-three years old. Are you really sure about this girl?” Josh laughs, warm and friendly. “Yeah, I am. Once you meet her, you’ll understand. She’s really something else.” I can hear the smile in his voice, as well as what I think is the sound of love. Holy fuck, how the hell did my party loving friend end up falling for some girl in New York? “I knew I should have never let you out of my sight. This is a catastrophe. What am I going to tell all the girls who have been pining for you while you’ve been gone?” He laughs. He doesn’t believe me. But, the man could pull, and I honestly do get asked about him when I run into some of the girls we went to school with. “Tell them I’m taken. They’ll get over it. Can we stay or not?” I press my fingers to my temple. “I don’t know man I never let chicks in my house, and there’s one bathroom, she’ll stink it up with flowery shit…” “She’s not like that. I promise. She’s easy to get along with, doesn’t use all the hot water – you’ll hardly even know she’s there.” Reaching up, I run my hand through my dark blond hair, pulling it upward in thought before I move my hand to smooth against the shaved portion about the base of my skull that shows off the tribal tattoo design I’ve recently endured. The skin is still smooth to touch where the ink has set into my scalp. “Fine,” I concede, knowing that I can’t really say no. After all, Josh is the reason I’m working as a tattoo artist now. He took my portfolio around to the local studios and ended up getting me an apprenticeship when I was too chicken shit to show anyone my work. “I’ll move my stuff into the smaller room, and you two can have the big room.” “No way. I don’t want to put you out. The spare room is fine. I’ll be a first year resident – an intern –, so work is going to take up so much time that I’ll hardly be there, and once Avery gets a job and transfers schools, you’ll hardly see her either.” Briefly, I wonder why they’re even coming out here together. If they’re never going to see each other, how they hell are they going to have a relationship? “It’ll be fine. I’m hardly home myself, anyway. As long as there’s milk in the fridge and hot water for a shower, I’ll be fine. When are you arriving?” There’s a pause. “Next week?” “Next week? Jesus man, that’s soon. All right, I’ll meet you at the airport. Text me your flight details, and I’ll be there. Just tell your girlfriend that if I find one ‘feminine touch’ added to my house, you’ll both be out on your ass.” He laughs. “Sure. I’ll let her know. And, thanks, buddy, this means a lot.” “Sure. See you in a week.”

Chapter 1

Avery “This is so exciting. I’ve never been to California before. It’s so warm – why did you ever leave?” I ask, as Josh and I walk through LAX laden with our luggage, ready to start our new life together in California. I’m born and raised in New York City, and coming from a single mother, we didn’t have much left over at the end of each month (vacations were out of the question, so I haven’t seen much of the country besides the odd bus trip when I was at school – I actually think that the amount of sun shining in from outside the airport is the most sunlight I’ve ever seen in one place). “I left because Stanford rejected me,” Josh reminds me with a small smile. He looks tired. His golden brown hair is adorably messy, and his soft brown eyes look like they’re struggling to focus and stay open. There’s a light smattering of dark stubble creeping from his chin, and I wonder how it grew so fast when I watched him shave it this morning. Josh is a nervous flyer, so he didn’t sleep at all last night, and the plane was so bumpy on the way here from JFK that he was on edge the entire time. I didn’t sleep so great either from being worried about him, but the excitement of a new city is buoying my energy for the moment. “Well, Stanford sucks,” I say in reply, while secretly feeling happy that they did reject his application, because otherwise, I wouldn’t be here right now. As if reading my thoughts, he leans in close and says, “Although, I’m glad they did, because if I didn’t go to Duke, how would I have met you?” He presses a kiss to the side of my head, and I grin, a warm feeling fluttering about in my chest as I wish we weren’t carrying so many bags so I could hug him. “Is that for us?” I ask, looking ahead and seeing a small girl with bright pink hair, a nose piercing and deep red lipstick, holding up whiteboard with ‘Josh & Avery’ written on it in thick black marker. Underneath is a hand drawn picture of a skull and crossbones. “Is this your school friend, Dylan? Does she think we’re pirates, or poison or something?” My brow furrows in confusion. I thought Dylan was a guy. Josh just laughs. “No, that’s not Dylan. Actually, I’m not sure who that is. Must be one of his friends. He lifts his hand and waves at the tiny girl, and she smiles widely. “Dylan is a boys name, right?” I ask, suddenly wondering if I have this all wrong. Not that it really matters if Dylan is a girl. It’s just that I thought Josh’s best friend from high school was a boy, and I’d feel a lot better living with another boy than I would with another girl. It’s not that I don’t trust Josh with another girl in the house. It’s just that I don’t really trust other girls around josh. He has this air about him that seems to lure women in, and I’ve had to warn more than a few off him in our two years together. He thinks my jealousy is hilarious and swears that he only has eyes for me. But, I just look into his soulful brown eyes, and I hope to god that he’s right. I don’t know what I’d do without him – which is exactly why I’m here, all the way across the country from my home and my family, about to move in with someone I don’t even know, all so we can make a start on our own happily ever after. When Josh received notification that he’d been accepted into a three year residency program at the Los Angeles Children’s Hospital, I was both elated and upset. I knew it was a big deal – a place in that program isn’t easy to come by; but I also knew it would mean that he’d have to leave me. I had tried to be strong and understand that it would only be for a couple of years until I finished college and could maybe move to LA with him. But, when the first tear fell, he couldn’t bear seeing me upset and asked me to come with him straight away. My mom wasn’t happy because I didn’t secure a transfer before heading here. But, I knew in my heart that I couldn’t spend two years with only phone calls and the occasional visit from Josh. So I decided to take a risk and leave with him. We both know it’s going to be hard. Becoming a doctor in diagnostics is Josh’s dream, and we know that he’s going to be working incredibly long hours which means I won’t see him for days at a time.

But I love him, and I support his dream, and seeing him for a couple of hours here and there, is way better than not seeing him at all. Even though he’s tried to act as though it’s no big deal, Josh is incredibly excited about returning to California. He grew up in Encino, and only left so he could go to Duke. Being the youngest of three boys, Josh was the last to fly the coop and his parents have since sold up. They’re currently touring the country in a massive campervan with a bumper sticker that brags about spending their kid’s inheritance. I think it’s kind of funny, but Josh and his brothers don’t really see it that way. So I leave his family politics to him. His brothers are both off on their own adventures. One lives in Sweden and is doing some sort of anthropological study, while the other is a broker on Wall Street. I met the broker once for drinks. His name is Andrew, and he is the spitting image of Josh. But, I didn’t get to talk to him much, because he was forever on his iPhone. So, with no family to stay with, we’re relegated to staying with friends. Josh says renting on our own will be too expensive at first, and being the wonderful man that he is, he’s tried to make this move as easy on me as possible by organizing all of our flights and somewhere for us to live – which is where this Dylan and the tiny girl with pink hair come into all of this... “Dylan is a guy. He was on the basketball team with me back in school. He didn’t do college and he’s living in Santa Monica now.” “What does he do for a living?” “He’s an artist at one of the parlors on Venice Beach.” My mouth forms an O shape, and as we get closer to the girl, I see that she’s covered in colorful tattoos all up her arms and across her chest. From a distance, I’d thought it was her shirt, but she’s wearing a strapless polka dot navy summer dress with a little white frill around the base of it. She looks at me and smiles warmly as we approach. I smile in return, but eye her curiously. I’ve never personally known someone with that many tattoos before. I mean, I’ve seen people with tattoos covering every inch of their skin. But my mom kept me pretty sheltered, so I’ve never even actually known someone with tattoos before. I wonder what made her decide to do that to her body? “Hi!” she sings. “I’m Kiera. Dylan had a client, so he asked if I could meet you guys. Hope you don’t mind.” She holds out her hand and Josh takes it, smiling and thanking her for taking the time (He’s so polite, my man! It makes me smile). Then she shakes my hand, and I try to be as eloquent as Josh. But I think I squeeze a little too hard (I suck at figuring out the right handshake pressure) and come off sounding like I have a set of balls when my voice comes out too deep and my greeting is stilted. She smiles politely, either not noticing or simply ignoring my awkwardness and offers to help with some of our bags. I don’t know how many she can take because she’s so tiny, but I let her have a backpack then we follow her out to her fire engine red convertible, which, when Josh makes a comment about it, she proudly announces is a 1972 Mercury Cougar XR7. I have no idea what all that means, but to look at, it’s cool and retro just like she is (I think they call her look rockabilly?). But, I wish I had a hair tie once we hit the 405, as the open top sets my red hair flying about like a thousand tiny whips that sting enough to make Christian Grey get a hard on. I catch it up and try to braid it, before it turns into a hornet’s nest of tangles that I’ll never break free. For the rest of drive, I hold the end of my long hair so it doesn’t fall loose, and I’m grateful that the drive isn’t too far. We pull up in front of a sunset yellow house with a flat roof and beautiful, well-kept gardens lining either side of a long pathway that leads to a white front door. I exchange glances with Josh, as Roxy

cuts the engine. I don’t think this is what either of us expected. It looks more like someone’s muumuu wearing grandmother lives here. “Here we are,” she says brightly, opening her door and moving to the trunk. We follow, and she helps us unload our bags, taking us inside and showing us where our room is before pointing out the most important details of the small house – bathroom, kitchen, laundry room, Dylan’s room (off limits) and the study. I look around, noticing that the furnishings all look fairly antiquated too – although they are a mishmash. It’s as if they’ve all been purchased at an estate sale. In the lounge, there’s a black leather couch facing a large flatscreen, and either side of that are two single chairs. One is an emerald green leather recliner, and the other looks like it came from a doctor’s waiting room with bright red fabric on a square cushioned chair. They surround a coffee table that appears to be a slice from a thick tree that’s been covered in resin and hollowed out for storage. And on the wall, is a life-like painting of an elderly gentleman with a monocle on his eye and a mustache. The kitchen is bright. The cupboards are all light blue and the tiled splash back is white and royal blue. The bathroom is much the same, and the bedroom we’re staying in has this old looking bed frame that could very well have belonged to a Viking lord based on the ornate carvings around the headboard. I’m not sure what Dylan’s room looks like, but I figure it’s more of the same eclectic taste. It’s not bad; it’s just…different. Although, the one thing that does stand out to me is that all through the house are these built in bookcases that don’t have any books on them. Weird. “And that’s pretty much it,” Roxy smiles when she’s done, holding out the key for us take. Josh thanks her and slips it in his pocket. We begin to walk her out, and I can’t help but ask a question I’ve been wondering about since she started giving us the home tour. “Are you Dylan’s girl?” Her perfectly lined eyebrows shoot up, and she turns to me and bursts out laughing as if I just said the funniest thing. Josh joins in as well, and I wonder if I’m missing something. “No, honey. Dylan doesn’t have girlfriends. Never has, and I’m pretty sure he never will,” Josh explains dutifully. “Oh,” I blurt out, realization dawning on me. It all makes sense now – the eclectic home and well kept gardens... “So, he’s gay?” Another burst of laughter erupts from the both as Josh puts his arm around my neck and presses a kiss to my head. “You are the cutest thing,” he laughs. “No, Dylan isn’t gay. He’s the opposite – a raging heterosexual who’s afraid of commitment.” “For want of a better word, he’s a manwhore,” Roxy adds. “But don’t worry, he never brings his women back here. This is what he calls a ‘pussy free zone’.” My mouth falls open, and I blush. Josh notices my embarrassment at misinterpreting the conversation, and rubs his hand up and down my arm. Roxy continues. “I’m only allowed in here because we’re just friends. I’m married and I’ve never been interested in the whole tall and handsome bad boy routine. I like them little and cuddly, just like my George.” She pulls out her cell phone and brings up a photo, spinning it around to show us a picture of her husband, who looks exactly how she just described him – like a grown cherub, happy and laughing in the photo. She looks at it again herself with a look of adoration then slips her phone back in her purse. “Anyway,” she says, smoothing her hand down the front of her dress. “I’d better get back. I’m sure you two want to take some time to settle in. Welcome to California.” “Thank you, Roxy,” Josh says, and I thank her as well as she leaves. Taking my hand, Josh pulls me against him and wraps his arms around me. I inhale his familiar scent, suddenly feeling a little tired and overwhelmed.

“Welcome to our new home, babe.” I smile up at him. “I like that sound of that.” “Me too,” he says, lowering his mouth to mine and kissing me slowly and softly, causing my heart rate and my breathing to increase as my body reacts to his. “Let’s go and unpack,” he whispers in a husky voice when he pulls away. “And when I say ‘unpack’, I mean, get undressed and make wild monkey love in our Viking bed.” “I knew you’d think that too!” I laugh as he reaches down and scoops me up in his arms.

Chapter 2

Dylan “Everyone get there all right?” I ask over my shoulder as Roxy arrives back at the shop. Without saying anything, she drops her bag into the back room then walks straight back out to me and stops beside me, leaning over to inspect the tattoo I’m working on. It’s a tribal design around this guy’s forearm. I’ve done so many of them that I could do it in my sleep, but the client is being a bit of a pussy and wriggling around like three-year-old with a case of worms. It’s fucking ridiculous. “Yeah, everyone’s fine. Girl seems a bit straight though. I reckon her eyes just about bugged out when she saw me up close.” I answer her distractedly, as I shade in the geometric pattern that’s banding his arm. “Josh has always liked them good and pure. Normally, he corrupts then and casts them aside. Not sure why he's keeping this one..” “Can I corrupt her?” Roxy asks wickedly. I chuckle to myself, but keep my concentration firmly on the artwork I’m embedding into my client’s skin. “If you have to.” “Oh I do. Corrupting young innocent girls is one of my most favorite things to do. And last I checked, it was one of yours too.” “I can’t really corrupt my best friend’s girl now can I? From the way he talks about her, they’ll likely be married before he’s twenty-five.” “Nothing wrong with getting married young. George and I were married at twenty-two, and eight years later, we’re still going strong.” “Yes. Well, you guys are the exception, not the rule.” “Maybe,” she shrugs, before moving over to her station and pulling out her sketch pad. For a moment, she just sits on the couch up against the wall, scratching away with her pencil then she speaks up again. “You don’t need to corrupt her sexually.” “What? Who?” I ask frowning before I remember what she’s talking about. “Oh, Avery?” “Yeah. I’m talking about introducing her to the fun in the world. She looks like she could do with it. I’ll tell you what, we’ll make a bet – first one to convince her to get a tattoo wins.” “All right, I can get on board with that. What does the winner get?” I stop as my client takes a moment to reposition himself and I watch Roxy as she twists her lips to the side and thinks. “Winner gets a thousand bucks, and the chance to put whatever tattoo they want on the other’s body.” I think for a moment, knowing that she’s been dying to tattoo a coiling snake around my calf for ages. It’s cool idea, and she’s a great artist. But, it will take forever, and I haven’t had the patience to sit for it yet. “Deal,” I say, holding my hand out for her to shake. Setting her sketchpad aside, she crosses the small shop floor and slips a hand into mine, grinning broadly with her perfect white teeth shining from between her plump lips (why haven’t I banged this girl yet? Oh yeah – she’s married and we work together. I can’t fuck that up). “Deal.” She nods, her smile still in place as she spins around and skips across the room to go and talk to our apprentice, who has been quietly listening as he traces common designs on the lightbox behind reception. “You two are evil,” my client says with a laugh, as I dip the needle into the pot of ink. I shake my head and smile. “Nah, man. We’re just making the world a better place, one tattoo at a time.”

Chapter 3

Avery “Maybe we should go shopping for food?” I murmur, lying against Josh’s chest, completely naked, my body humming with satisfaction. Josh’s arms tighten around me. “Sleep. Then food.” His voice is sleepy, and his breathing is deep. I don’t have the heart to force him up when he obviously needs to rest. “OK,” I whisper, snuggling into his chest. Lazily, I drift my hand up and down his stomach soothingly, waiting until I hear his breathing change and even out. Then I slip from beneath his arm, knowing from experience that he won’t stir because Josh sleeps like the dead (One time, I was staying in his room on campus, when the fire alarm went off in the middle of the night. I jumped out of bed and started panicking, and the only way I could get him to wake up was to call him on his cell. It’s like he has an off switch or something). Taking a few things from my bag, I head into the bathroom and have a quick shower, before I dress in a pair of cut-offs and pale blue tee, tying my long red hair up into a high ponytail. Then I Google the nearest supermarket as my stomach grumbles loudly (I have a ridiculously fast metabolism and eat like a pig at a trough. It’s not very ladylike and my mother always scolded me for it, but I can’t help it – I get hungry). Thankfully, there’s a convenience store within walking distance, so I shove my feet in my chucks, grab my purse and head out into the sun, letting my stomach make all the decisions. *** “No, no, no, no,” I moan, leaning against the locked front door. I totally forgot to grab the key Roxy gave to Josh, and now I’m locked out while he slumbers upstairs. The groceries are going to be ruined if he doesn’t wake up soon. “Josh!” I yell, hoping he’s awake and will hear me. No luck. Turning around, I sit on the concrete stoop and place my grocery bags beside me, before I squint up at the afternoon sun. The ice cream is going to melt. The milk is going to go off, and the meat will cook itself, before I get it all inside. I open my purse, looking for my cell so I can at least try calling him, but when it goes through, I hear his clearly from the front room. It rings out. There’s no way he’d hear that. “Josh!” I yell one last time, but there’s nothing. All I can do is lean up against the door and wait. Eventually, he’ll wake and when he calls out, I’ll answer and he can let me in…sigh.

Dylan My back and neck are killing me, and I’m looking forward to going home, taking a hot shower and eating before I get ready to hit a couple of clubs with some friends. I guess I’ll say a quick hello to Dylan and his girl. I guess they can come clubbing too if they want – although, I’m kind of counting on them being too tired from their travels to want to party tonight. That way, I don’t have to feel responsible for them, and I can go home with whomever I choose (at the moment, I’m quite enjoying the company of a DJ friend of Roxy’s. She’s not interested in anything that involves sleeping, and that suits me just fine because I don’t have to do the awkward dress-and-leave-before-she-tries-to-cuddle maneuver). Elektra by Refused comes up in my playlist, and I turn up the sound as I round the corner in my black Camaro – my pride and joy. My house comes into view, and I let out a slight sigh. As much as I’m glad Josh is back in town, I’m not too keen on living with a couple. Relationships get messy. I grew up with a mother who had a string of useless boyfriends, and the last thing I need, is to endure that bullshit of a couple fighting again. As I get closer, my brow furrows a little. There’s a girl sitting on the front stoop eating ice cream with her finger. She’s fucking stunning (if you’re into the idea of a younger version of the flame priestess from Game of Thrones). She has dark red hair that’s throwing off cooper highlights when the last rays of the day’s sun hit, smooth pale skin, and light colored eyes. Even from my vantage point in the car I can see how light they are – I’m guessing they’re blue. She’s dressed in a pair of denim cut-offs, a t-shirt and a pair of chucks with her hair tied back in a simple style. I guess Josh wasn’t lying when he said she was a no frills kind of girl. Not that she really needs all that extra stuff – I can see why she caught Josh’s eye… When she sees me pull into my parking space, she sucks her finger into her mouth as she watches me then slowly places the lid back on the carton, and drops it in the bag by her side. Something about the way she watches me so openly the whole time causes my throat to thicken a little, so I look away. I wasn’t expecting that and need to shake my head a little to clear my thoughts (I thought she was an innocent?). I run my hand through my hair, grabbing a fistful and pulling it upward, composing myself before I get out of the car. “Avery?” I ask, as I approach her, my boots scuffing lightly along the concrete pathway as the chain attaching my wallet to my pants swings and taps my thigh. She remains sitting and squints up at me with a curious expression on her face. Fuck, She's hot, and her skin is completely virgin – no blemishes, no marks or sun spots. It's the perfect canvas, and under any other circumstances I’d want to corrupt her in every way possible... “Yeah, I’m Avery. Are you Dylan?” I nod, and she smiles then points over her shoulder at the closed door. “I kind of locked myself out.” I look down at her, her long legs tilted so her toes are turned inward and her knees are touching. She’s kind of adorable. Why do I have an urge to pull on that ponytail? Reaching out, I pick up one of the paper bags full with groceries; it’s the one with the half eaten ice cream inside it. “Didn’t Roxy give you the key?” I ask evenly. She stands and lifts the other bag, holding it around the bottom awkwardly. “She did. I just forgot it. It was stupid…” “It’s fine.” Using my key, I unlock the door and hold it open to let her through, watching the way she moves as she carries the bag to the kitchen. As awkward as she seemed outside, there’s a certain grace to her movement, and a really nice curve to her shape. She’s slim but she has muscle tone. I figure she ran track for Duke or something, because she has powerful looking legs.

The kind you’d want wrapped around your… I drop my eyes, forcing myself to cancel out that thought before it goes too far. “I don’t know if any of this can be salvaged,” she muses, placing the grocery bag on the counter before removing its contents. She’s completely oblivious to the thoughts that are hovering in the back of my mind as she removes the cap from a gallon of milk and sniffs (I really need to stop looking at every woman I meet with my dick before my brain). “It smells OK.” She looks up at me and smiles – honest, open. “Looks like you saved the day.” “I’m no hero,” I admit, placing the bag I’m carrying onto the counter. Then I pull out the tub of ice cream. “Looks like you had one casualty.” She smiles and takes the Chunky Monkey from me. “This was never going to last long,” she says with a wink, dropping it into the trashcan beside the refrigerator. I watch her for a moment, as she turns back to me with a smile on her face. She doesn’t have a single bit of concern or trepidation or even curiosity on her face when confronted with a man who’s covered in tattoos all over his arms, as well as on my scalp. Staring at her openly, I wonder if maybe Roxy’s original assessment was wrong. Maybe she isn’t naïve and innocent. Maybe she’s just a nice person. Maybe she’s just so honest that it shows on her face… She tilts her head to the side in question, and I realize how long I’ve been staring then look away. “I’m heading up for a shower. Make yourself at home. Just don’t use the hot water till I’m done if you can help it.” “Sure,” she smiles, leaning against the counter. “It was nice to meet you, Dylan.” I like the way my name sounds on her tongue. I’d love to hear her screa– Shit. Stop that! “You too,” I mumble, as I head for the stairs, realizing when I’m half way up that I didn’t even ask after Josh.

Chapter 4

Avery “You went shopping,” Josh comments, slipping his arms around my waist as he nuzzles his nose into my neck, while I’m cooking us some ground beef patties for dinner. I lean into him and smile at his attention. “I did. And there’d be dessert too, but I got locked out and someone didn’t have their cell in the bedroom, so I couldn’t wake you to come down and unlock the door.” “Shit, babe, I’m so sorry.” I turn around in his arms and slip my arms around his neck, curling them into his thick brown hair. “It’s fine, I met Dylan and he let me in.” Josh’s mouth turns downward a little. “Oh yeah? And how did that go down?” “Fine,” I shrug, thinking back to the tattooed man with a messy looking blond mohawk-type hair-do who approached me outside. I’d wondered how he was coping wearing black jeans and a black tshirt in such stifling heat. Didn’t black absorb the heat and make you feel hotter? “He let me inside and helped carry the groceries in.” Josh’s eyebrows rise. “Hmm,” he says thoughtfully. “What?” I ask, wondering what that noise meant. “Nothing, he just isn’t normally that nice to girls. I’m glad he was polite to you.” “We barely said two words to each other. But yeah, he was nice.” “Talking smack about me, buddy?” Dylan asks with a chuckle as he appears at the base of the stairs. Josh whoops loudly, happy to see his friend. They man hug and smile like the long lost friends they are, chatting for a long time, while repeatedly telling each other how good it is to see the other. “You start working on Monday, right?” Dylan asks and Josh nods. “Yup. No rest for me. Can you join us for dinner?” “There’s plenty,” I put in, knowing that the simple meal of ground beef patties, salad and bread will easily spread to three. “No. Not for me. I’m heading out to a club. You guys are welcome to come if you want. We can have a few welcome home drinks.” Josh looks back at me, and I shrug, happy to go along with what with whatever he wants, while knowing my energy will begin to wan soon. But, I’m willing to tough it out. This may be the only weekend he gets to hang out with his friend before he starts work, and his job becomes so demanding that he’s rarely home. As I turn and place the patties on a serving dish, I look over to Dylan. He’s watching me again in that curious way he was before. It makes me feel strange, and I wonder if my hair looks weird or if I have something on my face. I reach up and smooth my hand over my hair then wipe the back of my hands across my face. It feels fine... “Do you mind if we stay in tonight? I think Avery’s pretty smashed. Maybe Friday?” Dylan smiles and moves his hazel eyes back to Josh. “Sure, man. No problem. It’s good to see you.” He slaps Josh on the arm in a friendly gesture then grabs his keys before waving over his shoulder and heading out the door. We wait for a few moments before we hear the engine on his car rumble to life as he drives off. “I wouldn’t have minded if you wanted to go,” I say, carrying our food over to the table. Josh helps, and we sit down together. “And forgo an entire night in a house with just the two of us? No college dorms or mothers to interrupt – I’m not passing up on that.” I feel the heat of a blush creep up my cheeks, as I meet the hunger in his eyes and feel a stirring low in my belly. “I'm starting to wish I'd had a nap too.”

*** “This one?” Josh asks as we stand in front of a 1999 Pontiac Sunfire SE. It’s black, but has obviously had the bonnet replaced at some point, as that is more of a matte charcoal color. “It’s only a thousand so it’s in our budget. Maybe you should ask for a test drive?” He looks in through the window. “There’s over two hundred thousand on it and a dent in the side. Maybe they’ll knock the price down a little.” “Well, as long as it goes and it’s safe…?” I ask, looking at the car with trepidation. Being a New York native, I’ve never had cause to get a driver’s license, and neither did any of my friends. This is all very new to me. The dealer walks over and begins to talk to Josh, completely ignoring me as they speak gibberish about the car’s specifications. It’s Friday afternoon, and the car yard is fairly quiet. I step away and lean up against the door of the car beside us and take out my phone to play a bit of Candy Crush to kill some time while they talk shop. Supposedly, the back seats are only spacious enough for a small child or a dwarf, so when they take it for a test drive, I’m left sitting on a bench seat with only my phone for company. “Hey!” I hear after a while. When I look up, it’s Roxy and she’s walking along the street with the man I remember as her husband from the photo she showed me. When she said he was little, she wasn’t lying. He’s even shorter than she is, and she only comes up my shoulder height – I’m 5’7”. Looking at them, I realize they’re they exact right size to fit in the back of the Pontiac. “Hey, what are you doing over here?” “Just taking a break to visit Georgie.” She looks at her husband adoringly. “We’re taking some food back for everyone at the shop. You wanna come and see it?” “Oh, I’m waiting for Josh to get back.” “You can’t sit there on your own. Call him or text him and tell him to meet you there.” I shake my head, not wanting to leave Josh to feel like he has to make the decision on the car on his own – not that I can actually be of any help – and it’s his money, and his car… I’m sure he’d prefer it if I was with someone we know instead of sitting here on my own…I tap out a message to him then stand to follow Roxy and George. “Sure. Sounds like more fun than sitting here.” Roxy grins then introduces me to her husband while chattering away constantly while we walk a few blocks toward Venice Beach. There seem to be several tattoo parlors here, and she takes us into the one named ‘Flesh Art’. I’ve never been inside a tattoo parlor before, and when I walk inside, it’s not what I expected. I had thought it would be kind of…dirty, I suppose. But, it isn’t anything of the sort. It’s all brightly lit, and the walls are decorated in a huge painted mural depicting various tattoo styles. The buzz of tattoo guns can be heard to my left, but are just out of sight until I’m led past reception to a waiting area where there’s a couch placed against a wall, and there’s a raised platform where there are six different tattoo stations set up. I can see Dylan hunched over a client who’s leaning forward while he tattoos a row of flowers across her lower back. “We have a visitor,” Roxy sings, and I wonder if she is ever not happy. Dylan pauses and turns around to meet my eyes. “Hey,” he says with a slight nod but little reaction to my presence – not that I expect him to react to me. I’m sure I’m far too average for a man like him to find interesting, and redheads aren't for everyone… Plus, he seems to have that whole bad-boy feel about him, which doesn’t gel with my follow-the-right-path-and-plan-your-future persona. Not that I should care about any of this, but, I do hope that we’ll find a way to become friends in time – at least for Josh’s sake. “Hey,” I say back, stepping a little closer to admire his work. “That looks really beautiful,” I

comment, and he nods as if he doesn’t want to be interrupted. So, I walk back over to where Roxy is standing and chatting to another artist with George. She introduces him as Mark, and he shakes my hand in greeting. He seems nice. He’s little taller than me with dark hair that is kind of long and short all at the same time. It’s styled so it all sticks out in odd angles. Like the others, he’s covered in tattoos, although one arm looks as though it’s a work in progress. And he has friendly brown eyes. For a while, we all chat, but then he has a client walk in, and George takes that as his cue to leave and tells the others that he’ll see them tonight. I look at Roxy curiously, wondering what it is they’re planning to do. It’s not that I’m expecting to be invited; it’s just that I’m curious by nature. Sometimes it’s a good thing; sometimes it makes me come off as pushy and rude. “You should come with us, Avery. You and Josh – we’re going to the opening of a new club tonight. It’s called Vibe. It should be a lot of fun.” I glance over at Dylan, who I’ve noticed has paused what he’s doing and turned his attention to us as he adjusts something on the gun he’s using. His eyes flick to me momentarily, so I can’t tell if he’s OK with us going or not, and I don’t feel capable of making this decision without at least talking to Josh first – he knows this world better than I do. “Sounds fun, but I’ll have to see what Josh wants to do first,” I tell Roxy, who smiles and nods in acceptance. When I look back over to Dylan, he’s fixed whatever problem he was having and is back at work inking the woman’s skin. Maybe he wasn’t paying attention at all? I talk with Roxy some more while she shows me some of the process they go through while getting a tattoo design ready for the client. It’s all very interesting and takes a lot of skill to master, and I love going through their portfolio’s to see the designs on actual skin. Really, it’s quite beautiful, and the more she talks about it the more I see it as a form of art. It’s not long before Josh arrives after purchasing the Pontiac for only eight hundred. “I never doubted your negotiating skills,” I say to him, as I wrap my arms behind his neck and kiss him. Before he can take me driving along the Ocean Road in our new car, Roxy tells him about the club opening. “You want to go?” he asks me. “I’m happy to go. It could be fun.” “Sure,” he says with a smile. “We’ll meet you there.”

Chapter 5

Dylan “Here they come,” Roxy points out, as Josh and Avery spot us waiting for them out the front of Vibe. “That Josh is a good looking man. Avery scrubs up really nice too – she’s missing some artwork on her shoulder, I think.” Smiling, I nod in agreement, watching them as they move closer to us. Josh is wearing a pair of dark jeans and a white button up shirt with the sleeves rolled up his forearms. And Avery, well, she just about takes my breath away. I mean, she’s pretty normally, but dressed up for the club she’s…she’s… well, she’s breathtaking. She has on this fitted green dress that doesn’t have any sleeves. The bust area is that love heart shape, so it’s pushing her tits up and out, so it’s really hard not to look. There a matching belt just below her waist and the dress continues down, hugging her figure until just below her ass were there’s a row of ruffled material that kind of flares out. She’s in heels, so she’s about the same height as Josh right now. He walks along, smiling like he’s the luckiest guy in the world to have his arm resting around her slender waist, and I find myself thinking that maybe he is, because there’s something about her… “Glad you guys made it,” I say, nodding to Josh, while only glancing at Avery so my eyes don’t get stuck on her. Fuck she looks hot tonight. I hold my hand out, gesturing that everyone should head inside. We’re in a group of nine, and Roxy hangs back at the rear with me. “I saw that look,” she says so only I can hear. “It was hungry.” I frown but don’t respond, uncomfortable in this conversation. But she continues anyway. “Just remember who she belongs to.” “I’m not stupid, Roxy. I know. OK? She just…took me by surprise,” I say, not really sure how to explain what it is about her. “Prettier than you expected?” I shake my head. “It’s not that. It’s just she isn’t what I expected.” “What did you expect?” I watch as Avery looks up at Josh and laughs about something he says. He reaches a hand up and gently moves her long auburn hair behind her shoulder then lowers his head to press a kiss to the soft skin of her shoulder. She smiles and looks at him with adoration in her eyes. They look so damn in love that it causes my heart to ache. “I don’t really know. I guess…I just didn’t expect them to be like this. They’re so fucking perfect together.” Roxy shrugs. “They’re in love,” she says, as if that simple remark should explain everything. But it doesn’t. I’ve seen people in love before, and normally I don’t give a shit. What is it about these two being in love that has me tied up in knots?

Avery As we enter the club, a strobe light goes off and makes everything appear to be moving in slow motion. Then Lana Del Rey’s voice starts singing Summertime Sadness within a dance remix. I look at Josh and smile. I normally dislike club music, but if they’re mixing things like this, I can definitely get a little more excited about tonight. He grins and nods, allowing me to drag him straight to the dance floor. We push through the crowd, and settling in to a gap, we begin to move with all the other bouncing bodies, pressed up against each other, the base vibrating within our chests, and the scent of artificial smoke and warm bodies filling our noses. The colored lights flash, and Josh places his hands on my hips as he lets me do my thing. I’m a dancer at heart – it’s what I was studying at Duke. My preference is contemporary, but I’m trained in other styles as well. So as long as the music is good, I’ll find a way to move to it. And the music here is good – it’s really good. “I think I love it here,” I yell into Josh’s ear. “The club or California?” “Both. I’m just happy with you.” He grins and slides his hands into my hair, bringing me to him for a kiss. It’s deep and passionate, and it has my heart beating so fast that even the bass isn’t registering in my body anymore. “I’m happy with you too. I’m glad you came with me,” he says when he pulls away. “Me too.” Reaching up, I wrap my arms around his neck and rest my head on his shoulder, moving again to the beat of the music as his hands slide down my back and grip my ass. He gives it a squeeze and presses my body close to his. I lift my head and laugh at his playfulness, but suddenly I stop when my eyes somehow find Dylan watching us from the bar area. My stomach flips (am I embarrassed?) I look away quickly, and when I chance a look back, he’s not there anymore, and I wonder if perhaps I imagined it. For some reason, I now have a nervous feeling rolling around in my stomach, and I slide my fingers into the base of Josh’s hair, holding him closer in comfort. He shifts, moving me so I’m looking at him. ‘I love you’, he mouths in the noise of the club, and I smile, my nervous feeling melting away as this beautiful man shows me his heart and kisses me while we dance, in the middle of a sea of people. *** After a good hour of dancing, Josh and I decide that it’s time for a drink. Pushing our way to the bar, we see Roxy and her husband George sitting at a table with two other people I don’t know. They wave us over, and I tell Josh to go and say hi while I get the drinks – it’s too hard to hold a conversation in here, and he’s a better listener than I am anyway. “Having fun?” a male voice says in my ear, as I wait in line at the bar. My first reaction is to stiffen, but then I realize I know the voice and turn around to find a very intense looking Dylan. “I am. You don’t look like you’re having a great time though.” He shrugs. “I’m too cool to look like I’m having fun.” “Well, you should loosen up a little. You want a drink?” I ask, as I step forward to the bar. “Sure, grab me a rum and coke.” Nodding, I lean forward and order the same for myself, and a beer for Josh, tapping my hands on the counter to beat of the music while I wait for them. “You know, that’s a very short dress,” Dylan comments after a moment’s pause, looking downward to my bare thighs before quickly before meeting my eyes. “Not compared to a lot of girls out there. But that’s cool, I’ve got little dancing shorts on underneath. So no one’s getting up in my junk,” I reply with a laugh, kicking my hip up dramatically, causing the little ruffles around the base of my dress to shift. The bartender places the drinks in front of

me, and I think I hear Dylan letting out a bit of a chuckle. I reach into my purse for my money and frown when the bartender is already serving the next person. “He didn’t take my money!” Dylan smiles. He’s even more handsome when he smiles (did I seriously just think Dylan is handsome? Who uses handsome these days?). “How is that a bad thing?” “Because I feel like I’m stealing.” Laughing, he picks up my drink and hands it to me. “It’s fine. You’re on my tab.” “What? Oh. No. Let me pay you back. I don’t want to drink away your money.” “Consider it a ‘Welcome to California’ drink, Rusty.” He smiles again and picks up his own drink and Josh’s…hang on, what did he just call me? “Rusty?” His twinkling gaze flicks to my long red hair where I have it twisted over my shoulder to alleviate the heat. “Oh, a redhead joke, I get it – har har.” I roll my eyes, wondering if there will ever be a day that I’m known for something other than the color of my hair. He leans in close to my ear. “It’s not a joke. I quite like your hair.” His voice sends a chill through me – in a good way. I take a sip of my drink as I try to think of something witty to say in return. All I can come up with is, “Well…so do I.” It’s as lame as fuck, but I punctuate the comment by snatching the bottle of beer from his hand before I turn to head back to Josh. Then I stop, feeling bad for the way I just reacted and turn back around. He’s grinning widely, obviously amused by me. Rolling my eyes, I smile too then I hold up my hands and nod to thank him for the drinks. He nods in return and leans up against the bar. It’s a nice moment, and I’d like to consider as a stepping stone to me learning to get along with Josh’s oldest friend, except it all gets ruined when this blonde girl in the tightest dress I’ve ever seen, launches herself at him and attaches her mouth to his face like a leech trying to suck out his soul. My mouth falls open and I almost drop the drinks I’m holding. I really wasn’t expecting that. “Hey, you OK?” Josh asks, appearing at my side. “What? Yeah, I’m fine. I got your beer,” I say, smiling and handing him his drink, trying desperately to stop myself from turning back to the scene I was just witnessing at the bar. But, it’s like a car crash and I can’t seem to stop myself, and it’s even worse than it was before. “Oh god, does he always do that?” I ask as I watch Dylan openly groping the woman’s ass, as she rolls herself against him like she’s having sex standing up. Josh laughs and puts his arm around my shoulder. “Pretty much. He’s always been a player.” He turns me away and guides me toward the table. “Come on, we’ve saved you a seat.”

Chapter 6

Avery “This bed is so comfortable. Maybe we could become bed people – give up all our dreams and do nothing but nap and make love,” I moan on Monday morning. It's 5:30 in the morning, and since Dylan hasn't been home since we went out on Friday night, this is the most alone time Josh and I’ve had since we started dating in my first year of college (we literally ran into each other on campus, smacking our foreheads together because neither of us was watching what we were doing. That sparked a conversation, which sparked a friendship, and within a few months, it sparked a romance. We've been together ever since). Our relationship hasn't always been easy. To save on dorm fees, I lived at home with mom, and Josh was in the boy’s dorm with a real jerk of a roommate. My mother wasn't comfortable with him staying over, and on campus, Josh’s roommate wouldn’t stop staring at my tits. So our intimacy had to be creatively well timed, which of course kept things exciting, but it was rare that we got to sleep in the same bed. Even when we did it was squished together in a twin – cosy, but not the most comfortable. Josh leans over and kisses me, softly, slowly, inhaling as his lips entwine with mine. “Don't tempt me,” he murmurs, breaking the kiss, his breathing a little faster than it was a moment ago. I shift my naked body closer his and slide my hand down, finding his morning erection. “But I love to tempt you,” I whisper, as I lightly stroke it. He groans lightly, his eyes closing at my touch. “It's my first day, I can't be late.” “You won’t be late,” I murmur against his lips, gripping and stroking him a little harder. “Mmmm,” he moans before he shifts beside me, gripping my thigh and dragging me across the bed so I’m underneath him. I let out a squeal as he leans down and scratches his morning stubble against the tender skin of my neck and nibbles on my ear. “Minx.” I giggle as he sits back and positions himself at my opening, teasing my arousal with the tip of his cock. Then he pushes in, and I let out a moan as he fills me, inch by inch, thrusting his hips back and forth, over and over, until we’re both crying out in satisfaction. Out of breath, he leans down and kisses me one last time. “Now I really need to get out of this bed before I really am late for work,” he says, before withdrawing from me and heading to the shower to get ready. I look at the clock, seeing that it’s almost ten after six. He needs to be at the hospital by seven, so I quickly get up and wrap my dark gray satin robe around my naked body and head down to the kitchen to prepare him some breakfast to go, to make up for jumping his bones when he should have been getting ready. As I'm pottering about, the front door opens and closes, and I turn to see Dylan, looking like a male model in a fitted black t-shirt a pair of light colored jeans. I wonder where he got his change of clothes… Upon seeing me, a strange look crosses his face before he drops his eyes and clears his throat, but as he approaches, he looks to me again and his features are even, so I think that maybe I imagined it and just feel a little self conscious being caught out in my robe. I tighten the sash. “Hey,” he says, nodding at me as he walks to the other side of the counter and drops his keys on top of a pile of unopened mail. “Hey,” I say back with a smile, trying to hide the fact that when I look at him, all I can see is the way he was kissing that girl at the club (Is it hot in here?). “Toast?” He shrugs, and reaches up to pull at his blond strip of hair so it stands up a little. “Sure,” he says, sitting down on the stool as if he’s at a diner. I put a plate in front of him, and hand over two of the four pieces that just popped out of the toaster, and as he butters them, I drop in an extra couple for me, before I ready the other two slices for Josh and place them on a napkin. Then I fill a travel mug with freshly brewed coffee, sugar and milk,

screwing the lid on just as I hear Josh trotting down the stairs. “Oh, hey, buddy,” he says with a smile when he sees Dylan sitting at the counter. “Good weekend?” “Yeah, man, I'm sorry, I should’ve been here for your first weekend back, but you know how it is…” He tilts his head to the side as if he's pleading for understanding, and I wonder if he's being vague about what he was doing because I'm in the room, or if he's just one of those people who doesn't talk about what he does when he goes out all night. “Don't sweat it, it was good to relax and settle in. Maybe we can do something again on my next night off.” “Sounds perfect,” Dylan says, as he takes a bite of his toast and nods when I offer him coffee after I’ve poured mine. “Is this for me?” Josh asks, pointing to the toast in the napkin. “Sure is,” I smile, picking up his travel mug and handing it to him. “This is for you too.” He slides his arms around my waist and kisses me, murmuring, “How did I manage to land a girl like you?” “Just lucky I guess,” I tease, reaching up to straighten the navy tie he’s wearing with his white dress shirt. He looks so professional when he’s cleanly shaven with his brown hair styled neatly. “You'll do great today.” I glance at Dylan, half expecting him, as a friend of Josh's, to have something reassuring to say. But instead he has his eyes down, and he's more focused on eating and drinking coffee than he is on his friend. My toast pops out of the toaster. “I hope so. I'll call you when I can.” “Good luck.” “Thanks.” He presses another quick kiss to my lips then with his breakfast and coffee in hand, he leaves for his first day, saying goodbye to Dylan on his way. “Go save some kid’s life,” Dylan calls after him then the door closes, and I'm here alone with a man I barely know, naked expect for some smooth satin, tied by a flimsy sash. I glance at my cooked toast longingly, my stomach grumbling loudly. “I might go up and get ready too,” I mumble, suddenly feeling way under dressed. “Your toast will go cold,” he comments, getting up and grabbing a plate. He places the pieces of toast on the white surface and holds it out to me. “And I just heard your stomach growl. Come on, I won’t bite you.” Conceding, I tighten the sash on my robe again then walk toward him, adding butter and jelly to my toast before taking it to the dining table with my cup of coffee. I barely take a bite before Dylan pulls out the chair opposite to me and sits down with his breakfast as well. “Good weekend?” he asks. “It was. Your house is…nice.” “Nice?” “Interesting.” He laughs and sits back in his chair. “It was my grandmother’s. I just took down her personal stuff and kept the rest as it was. I’m not much of a decorator, and I’m really not here much so...” He shrugs. “Why aren’t you here much?” I ask, innocently at first, but then I realize what a stupid question that was and wince. “Don’t answer that,” I add, holding up my hand as he chuckles at my now red face. We sit in silence for a moment before a nagging question forces it’s way out of my mouth. “So, that girl who was all over you on Friday night, is that who you spent the weekend with – is she your girlfriend or current…whatever she is…or…or do you…” I pause, realizing how naïve I must sound.

He folds his hands across his chest and eyes me curiously. “Spit it out.” I shake my head. “This is dumb. I shouldn’t even be asking…I just…” “You haven’t met anyone like me before, have you?” Looking down, I pull the crust off my quickly cooling toast. “I guess you could say I’ve lived a fairly sheltered life.” “You’re sheltered? Growing up in New York?” I shrug. “My mom wouldn’t let me out much.” He leans forward, peering into my face, his green eyes narrowing as they assess me. It causes me to fidget in my seat. It’s like he’s pulling information out of me without either of us speaking – as if he’s learning about me in the silence – it’s disconcerting. “He used to be just like me,” he states suddenly, his rich voice breaking through the silence. I frown. “Who did?” “Josh. He and I used to be the bad boys in high school – a new chick every weekend.” My face burns, and I feel my stomach start to turn (Josh is only the second man I’ve been with, the first being my prom date and a colossal error in judgment). “I didn’t know that,” I reply, forcing myself to meet his gaze. “You haven’t had that talk yet?” I shake my head, not understanding what he means. But he elaborates. “You know? The one where you ask him how many and he asks you. He’ll get you to go first so he can adjust his number so it isn’t much bigger than yours?” “Why would he lie about it?” “Because he probably doesn’t remember exactly how many.” Suddenly feeling very defensive, I shake my head and stand from the table quickly, tipping my chair over in the process. I lean down to pick it up as I fight the tears that are burning behind my eyes. “Why are you being like this?” He leans forward again and studies me with those assessing eyes of his, looking right through me like he’s searching for something. “Because I don’t get it. Why would a guy like Josh, give up a life like mine for you? I mean, that guy could pull chicks better than I ever could, and now he’s a doctor as well, he could have them lining up out the door. But instead, the only girl he looks at is you – what’s so special about you?” My veins pulse in the side of my head as my emotions threaten to spill over at any moment, but I suck it up, and I stare back at him, trying to figure him out – what is his problem? I thought we were beginning to get along – why is he being like this when I’ve done nothing but be nice to him? Then finally, I swallow the lump in my throat and I shake my head. “There’s nothing,” I say in a small voice. “There’s nothing special about me at all.”

Chapter 7

Dylan “So, how’s life with the new roommates?” Roxy asks, when I walk into work early that morning. My first client isn’t until nine, but I have a crap ton of paperwork to go over. I hand her the take away coffee I picked up for her on my way here, and she accepts it with a thanks. “I’ve barely been home to see them. But it’s OK, came home to breakfast this morning so that’s a bonus.” I smile and wink as I take a sip of my coffee. I need at least two cups before I can focus for the day. I run on caffeine. “Little miss a bit of a homely one, is she?” “Yeah, she’s like a little wifey. They’re playing house, it’s sickeningly cute. I felt like I was watching some awful ABC family show when Josh left for work this morning. They’re like, picture perfect together.” “Must be confronting for the commitment-phobe inside you.” I roll my shoulders and reach a hand up to scratch my back. “Yeah, I think they gave me hives.” She laughs and gets back to the lightbox where she was working on a design. “I may have been a bit of a jerk to her though,” I admit after a moment of reflection. “Why were you a jerk, did she do something?” Running over the events of this morning in my mind, I think about how much I want to tell her. The truth is, I don’t know why I did it. I just got really uncomfortable watching them together. They’re so obscenely happy together that it made me…jealous? No. How could I be jealous of them? I’ve never been jealous of anything in all my life. It can’t be that. Then why did I do it? Was it just to get a rise out of her? Did I want to piss her off? I keep asking myself questions as I open the drawers at reception and pull out the receipt folder. But I don’t have an answer, so I settle for a generic response instead. “No. She didn’t do anything. I guess I just snapped for no reason. Maybe I’m just tired or something, and I’m reacting to having new people in my house.” “Could just be teething problems – you have been living on your own for years.” “Probably,” I agree, heading into the office but pausing in the doorway when she calls out to me. “Just don’t be too much of a jerk – we still have to gain her trust, or that lily white skin of hers will remain a blank canvas for the rest of her life.” Looking back at her, I nod then head into the office, sitting behind the desk before I power on the iMac. As I open the receipt folder Roxy appears in the doorway, leaning against the doorframe with both hands supporting her as she leans forward. “I forgot to ask – which one of us gets to tattoo her?” Frowning, I look up at her. “I don’t know. She might prefer Evan.” Roxy bursts out laughing as if I just said the most hysterical thing, not realizing that Evan, our other full-time artist, is now standing directly behind her. “Hey, I’m good at what I do,” he says, looking a little hurt. His thick blond beard seems to move when he speaks. He’s big and burly looking, but he’s one of the nicest guys I know. However, he rarely tattoos any of our female clientele because his specialty is pin ups girls with giant tits and round asses. The guys love his work, but I could never see Avery asking for a busty pin up girl on her skin. “I’m sorry, honey, it’s not you, it’s the client,” Roxy explains, and he shrugs and moves further into the shop, out of my view. Roxy turns back to me. “And I’m serious – I think the winner should get to tattoo her as well.” “I think she should get to choose – it’s her body don’t forget. The artwork and artist for her aren’t a part of this bet.” She shrugs and pushes herself off the doorframe, heading in the same direction Evan went. I get up and shut the door, giving myself some quiet to concentrate. Although I don’t get much work done. I’m

too busy wondering if I should just call this bet off. It was made in fun before I met her, but now, things are different, and I’m not sure it’s a good idea anymore…Shit, I need to apologize to her for this morning. I shouldn’t have said what I did… ***

Avery I know I shouldn’t be obsessing over what Dylan said about Josh. After all, I knew he was a lot more experienced than me when we got together – he’s a good looking, confident guy. Of course he bedded plenty of women before me (it’s why he’s so damn good at it what he does) and to be truthful, I never asked because I had a feeling the number would be high, and I didn’t want to feel inadequate... But damn, if that comment didn’t get to me. Because he probably doesn’t remember exactly how many. Ugh. Who says shit like that to someone’s girlfriend? I tilt my head from side to side, cracking my stiff neck before I roll my shoulders. I’ve just spent hours pouring over real estate listings to see if Josh and I can afford to live somewhere on our own. I know that living here isn’t permanent. Josh always said that it’s just until we can find our feet. But there are some affordable places with one bed, one bath, and they’re closer to the hospital. I might make things easier, and I wouldn’t have to endure any more taunts from Dylan. On top of an accommodation search, I’ve also been looking into transferring to Santa Monica College in the Fall – it’s all so overwhelming and it hurts my head to think about filling out all that paperwork. Although, in the mean time, I also might try and get a job somewhere – maybe at a dance studio, or, since we’re so close to LA, maybe I could go to a couple of auditions and see if I can manage to dance for a living…I don’t know. It’s a crazy amount of things to think about, and I contemplate calling my mom to unload, but then I remember that she’s probably at work right now and won’t be able to listen. Instead, I set my iPod up and put on my cordless beats that cancel out all sound. Then I move some of the furniture so I can dance without tripping over anything. I limber up a little, and then I press play, closing my eyes when Sleeping at Last’s 500 Miles begins to fill my ears. Contemporary dance combines a lot of styles of dance, but it has strong roots in ballet and modern dance. Ballet is my background, and I studied it for most of my life. But when I was about sixteen, I started shifting more toward contemporary. I love the free flowing movement of it, and when I’m feeling stressed or overwhelmed, I love to just hit play on my iPod and let whatever song comes up, seep into my veins and guide my movement. I sway, I kick, I leap, I spin, and I even risk a flip at one point, feeling glad that there’s no glassware on the shelves when I land a little too close to a bookcase. But, I’m smiling, and I’m happy, and as the song rises in crescendo, I spot the wall and pirouette, around, and around and around, feeling free as all the stress melts away from my body. I feel as though I can conquer the world, and that nothing can hurt me. I feel free… Then, just as I come out of the turn, something draws my attention – a certain tall, blond, tattooed man, who was the reason for my upset in the first place, is leaning up against the wall and watching me intently. His unexpected presence causes me to falter my step and topple off balance. My foot goes from under me. I fall to the ground. Something snaps.

Chapter 8

Dylan “I wasn’t trying to scare you. I did call out,” I say, as we sit in the emergency room at UCLA. Avery has her leg across my lap to elevate her swollen ankle. There’s a blue icepack draped across it, and we’re just waiting until we get called in so they can x-ray. I try to keep my eyes off it, feeling guilty for being the reason she’s hurt. I probably shouldn’t have stood there watching. But she just looked so free, and I’ve never seen someone dance like that before. It wasn’t that gay ballet bullshit, or that stupid hip-hop stuff they do in music videos – it was something much more…beautiful – like she was dancing her feelings. I was mesmerized. “It’s not your fault; my headphones cancel out the noise. I wouldn’t have heard you even if you yelled,” she replies with a grimace. “Does it hurt a lot?” She nods. “I just hope it isn’t too bad. I need to audition in time for college admissions, and I need to get a job so Josh and I can get our own place, and I want to pay my own way.” “Your own place? Already? Am I that hard to live with?” She drops her eyes and shrugs. “I don’t know. You just gave me the impression this morning that you weren’t very keen on having me there.” I look away for a moment, knowing that I crossed the line this morning and knowing that she deserves an apology for it. “About this morning, I was an ass. There’s no excuse for the way I treated you. I shouldn’t have made you uncomfortable like that.” Focusing on her nails, she fidgets as she nods slowly. “Do you think I’m not good enough for Josh?” she asks blatantly, and it takes me by surprise. “That’s not what I think at all, Avery. I think you’re great together. I’ve just never been around a happy couple before. And Josh is really happy with you.” I run my hand over my head and pull the front of my hair. “I don’t know, maybe I got a little jealous.” “Of our relationship?” I shrug nonchalantly. “You could have that too, you know?” she says. “If you wanted it. There are a heap of girls looking for love out there.” “Ah, but I’d have to quit manwhoring – that’s what Keira calls it, isn’t it?” She blushes, and I know I’m right. “Would that be so bad? I mean, you’re the same age as Josh, and from the way you were talking earlier, surely all those girls start to be one never ending faceless fuck.” I almost choke on the air. “Faceless fuck?” I repeat, coughing to clear my throat. “That’s what I said,” she replies with a shrug, and I narrow an eye at her, staring at her in wonder. “See, this is what I don’t get about you. You go from awkward to graceful then shy to bold. You blush when I say ‘manwhore’ but then you blurt out ‘faceless fuck’ without batting an eyelid. You dress like you don’t want anyone to look at you, except for when we went to Vibe and you dressed like you wanted every man in the room to dehydrate from drooling. Emotionally, you seem so restrained, except for when you’re with Josh. Then you’re happy – like super happy, as if he is your happiness. But then I saw you dancing alone, and I saw more emotion than I’ve never seen in another person. It wasn’t just joy, there was melancholy and hope, and, and...” I stop myself, unable to give voice to everything I saw in her when she danced. It was pure emotion-pure beauty. "You gave dancing up to come here with Josh, right?” She nods, it’s a tiny nod, and I barely see it, but her eyes are wide and her cheeks are flushed – as she listens to me dissect her character.

For a moment I frown, trying to figure out what that means as I look into her light eyes, feeling as if I’m on the edge of falling. I take a breath, and it shakes. I don’t know why. I look away and swallow a lump in my throat. “I think that’s what I’m waiting for,” I admit after a while. She tilts her head slightly as she studies me in return. “Are you saying you’re waiting to be someone else’s happiness?” she asks, and I shake my head. “No. I want more than that. I want to be someone’s music, and I want someone to be my music. I don’t just want happiness, Rusty. I want everything. I want to feel everything.” ***

Avery “What the hell happened to you?” Josh asks, rushing toward me. In one hand, I have a new set of crutches that I’ll have to get the hang of using, and the other is holding onto Dylan’s shoulders as he grips me around my waist with his strong hand and long fingers, holding me up, helping me through the door. After keeping me company during the long wait in emergency, he continued to stay by my side during the x-ray, the diagnosis, and finally, the casting of my ankle. I’m a bit hopped up on painkillers, so I don’t feel a thing at all. In fact, I’m smiling, and all I manage in response is a giggle. “She’s high,” Dylan explains. Josh’s warm arms slide around my body, and I’m being lifted off the ground and transported to the couch. Why does my waist feel cold now? He kisses my forehead and pushes my hair away from my face before fussing over me, placing pillows under my leg while he mutters about how worried he was when he got home and we weren’t there and neither of us were answering our phones. I try to respond and say sorry, but I’m feeling really heavy and worn out. Those painkillers they gave me are strong, and my mind feels as though it’s being pulled away. I hear the gentle rumble of Dylan’s voice. It feels like a calming vibration in my chest as he tells Josh about my dancing mishap. Josh peers down at me with a worried look on his face, as he says something to Dylan that gets lost in the air then Dylan leans down and looks at me as well. My gaze drifts between them, landing last on Dylan’s concerned features before I close my eyes and murmur. “You’re so handsome.”

Chapter 9

Avery “Hey you,” Josh whispers, when I open my eyes the next morning. It takes me a moment to realize where I am as the room is still dark, and I’m still on the couch. “I was just checking on you. How’re you feeling?” “Hey,” I smile, trying to readjust myself a little. My ass is numb from being in the same position all night, and my ankle is now throbbing. I wince a little. “Here,” he says, offering me a glass of water and my pain meds. “Do you need me to do anything for you before I get ready for work?” I look down at my purple cast as I swallow the pills. “Help me upstairs so I can pee.” Grinning, he slides his arms beneath me and lifts me as though I weigh nothing. “Hold on.” I slide my arm around his shoulders to brace myself, as he carefully carries me up the staircase and into the bathroom so I can do my business. He offers to help, but I assure him I can manage to pee and wash my hands on my own. So he waits for me outside the door. When I’m done, I stand in front of the mirror for a moment, balancing on one foot. I look a wreck. My hair is a mess of wavy tangles and there are dark circles under my eyes. I pick up my toothbrush and give my teeth a good clean, so at least something about me isn’t horrible. Then I splash water on my face and close my eyes, wishing the pain meds worked a little faster – being upright means the blood has rushed down to my foot, and it’s now pulsing like a second heartbeat. “Josh,” I call out, bracing myself against the sink as I wait for him to reenter and help me into our room. He sets me up on the bed and sits beside me, running his hand through my hair as I lean back on the soft pillow. “Are you OK?” “Yeah. Just a little embarrassed. Did Dylan tell you what happened?” He nods. “Yeah, you went down when you saw him enter the room.” “I had my Beats on.” He smiles, knowing how much I love those things. “Dylan also told me you were looking to start working ASAP so we could move out,” he says. “I thought you were going to sort out school first and then get a job around that. Don’t you like it here?” I shrug. “I like it here just fine. I was just reacting...” “To what?” I shake my head, not really wanting to cause a rift between two friends by telling him what Dylan said if I don’t have to. “I don’t know. I guess I want to pay my own way so I’m not so dependent on you.” He presses his forehead to mine. “I like taking care of you, Avery.” I reach up and cup his face, running my fingertips over his morning stubble. “I know. But I need to feel like I’m contributing, and now I feel bad because I won’t be able to audition for anything for at least a couple of months, and what happens if the local colleges won’t accept my transfer without an audition? I could be fucked.” “It’s not that bad. I looked at your x-ray and it’s a clean break. It’ll heal in no time. And even if it doesn’t and you need some physical therapy, it will be OK. I want to take care of you, Avery. Let me take care of you.” Leaning back, I let out a sigh as I look up into his dark eyes and see the sincerity within them. “OK,” I concede in a whisper, feeling the painkillers begin to lull me into sleepiness. I stifle a yawn. “Thank you,” he says, placing a kiss on my forehead. “Now, do you need anything? I have to get ready for work, but I can carry you back downstairs or bring up some food if you like.” “I’ll be fine. I think I just need to sleep. Maybe just bring up the crutches so I can get around if I need to.”

“Sure,” he says. “Just be careful going down the stairs. “It’s the shortest staircase in the world, Josh, I think I’ll be OK.” He smiles. “Says the girl who just broke her ankle falling out of a turn I’ve seen her land perfectly, at least a thousand times.” “Can’t win ‘em all,” I shrug. This causes him to chuckle before he presses his lips to mine and gets off the bed so he can shower. “You didn’t tell me how your first day was,” I call out before he leaves. He stops in the doorway and turns back to me, a tired expression on his face. “It was good. I was overwhelming. And it was hard.” “Worth all the study?” He shrugs. “Time will tell.” Pressing his lips into a smile he turns away before I call out again to stop him. “Oh, and Josh, can I ask you something really personal?” “Sure. You can ask me anything.” “Do you know your number?” He frowns. “My number? You mean, like, my cell?” “No.” My cheeks burn for a moment, and I almost chicken out from asking. But, now that it’s in my head, I can’t get it out. “The number of girls you’ve slept with.” His brow shoots up then furrows. “Why do you want to know that?” “I just realized I’ve never asked. The number doesn’t really matter, but it’s something we should know about each other, right? Especially since we’re living together now.” “I suppose. What brought this on? Were you reading Cosmo or something while you were waiting in the ER?” “Something like that.” He twists his mouth to the side a little then looks out of the window in our room before he looks back at me and answers. “I don’t know how many, Avery. It’s not something I ever kept count of.” *** I wake to the sounds of a soft tapping on the bedroom door. Looking over at the clock, I see that it’s after nine. My crutches are propped up against the end of the bed, and my cell is on charge beside me and there’s a glass of water, an apple, a wrapped sandwich, and my next dose of pain meds. On top of the sandwich is a folded piece of paper with a love heart drawn on the outside of it. Inside, Josh has written – Rest well. Will call when I get a break. J. I place it back where it was, before I hear the tapping again, followed by a soft voice. “Avery, you up?” “Ah, yeah. I’m up. Come in,” I call out to Dylan, who opens the door, carrying a tray laden with food. “Thought you might be – oh, Josh already got you something,” he says, when he sees the food sitting beside me. He’s looking deliciously well put together in a white vintage print t-shirt and a pair of black jeans. That ever-present chain is swinging from his hip, and his undercut hairstyle is growing out a little, but the long top is standing up in its usual way. I wonder if that’s just what it does, or if he puts something in it to make it look like that. “Wait,” I say, as he begins to turn away. “I’ll eat it.” He smiles and brings the tray over to me, setting it on my lap. “I didn’t know how you liked your eggs, so I just made them the way I take mine.” I look at the tray. There’s a plate of toast with scrambled eggs that have chopped up red and green peppers in them, as well as a glass of orange juice and a cup of coffee with milk and sugar on the side. “Wow. Thank you,” I say, picking up my knife and fork. “You didn’t have to do this, but thank

you. Are you eating too?” He shakes his head. “No. I have to go into the shop. But, since it’s only twenty minutes away, I’ll come back between clients to check on you.” “You don’t have to do that, Dylan. I’ll be OK.” “It’s no trouble.” He glances down at my cast. “I just want to say I’m sorry again. I never meant for this to happen.” “It wasn’t your fault.” “No. It was. I shouldn’t have stood there watching when you didn’t know I was there. That was kind of, um.” He clears his throat with a cough. “Weird of me.” I smile. “I like weird, Dylan.” He smiles in return, wiping his hands down the front of his jeans as if his palms are sweaty or something. “OK. Well, I have to go. I’ll see you around lunchtime, Rusty.” He steps out the door, and I thank him again for the breakfast. When he leaves the room, I suddenly feel very lonely.

Chapter 10

Avery The doctors told me that I’d be in the cast for six to eight weeks. I hate my lack of mobility, and every day, I go through my ups and down, feeling stifled without the ability to dance. Dylan was right when he said all of my emotions come out then. It seems to be the only thing in my life that truly allows me to express myself, and without it, I feel empty. Josh has been doing his best to cheer me up when he’s at home. But he works so much, and neither of us are in the mood to go out, so he’ll snuggle with me on the couch and watch movies until I fall asleep on his chest. Then he’ll carry me up to bed. He’s sweet and he’s caring, and I love him for it. But it’s not enough. I need dance. Dylan has been great too. Every day, he eats lunch and dinner with me. He returns during the day with lunch for the both of us, and I make something for us to share for dinner. Each time, he sits with me for as long as he can, talking about anything and everything, just helping to pass the time before Josh gets home, which is when he tends to go out, so Josh and I can have ‘couple time’ as he calls it. He’s the ideal roommate – never in the way, and always there when you need him. He’s even taken to calling me ‘Rusty’ all the time now. Normally, I hate nicknames, but I don’t mind it coming from him, because I know there’s no malice behind it. It means we’ve become friends. I find myself looking forward to our lunch date more and more each day because I’ve really grown to enjoy Dylan’s company. I can completely understand why he and Josh have been friends for so long. Dylan is so easy to talk to and seems to never run out of interesting conversation. I find myself laughing with him more often than not, asking him about his life, learning about his and Josh’s upbringing. Based on the stories he tells, I’m surprised either of them managed to finish high school. Sometimes, to get me out of the house, he takes me back to the shop after lunch, so I can hang out and talk with Roxy and some of the other artists. Everyone is really nice and nowhere near what I used to expect tattooists were like. To make myself useful, I help behind reception, or I help to clean the tattoo stations, or whatever else I can manage while balancing on one foot. Roxy spends a lot of her time, trying to convince me to get some ink done (I keep declining), and they all sign my cast and add some really fancy artwork, giving me what I think is the most envied broken ankle in the entire state. After being in the cast for a month, I’m given a boot so I can walk around without the crutches. I figure since I’m a little more mobile now, Dylan will stop coming back each day to have lunch with me. But it still continues, and the way my heart does a little flip flop in my chest when I hear his car in the driveway, tells me that perhaps I’m being a little too dependent on him for company. I only have a couple of weeks left in this cast, so it’s time to become a little more proactive and prepare for my return to the dancing world. I still really want to go to a few open calls to see if I can get a job, so I need to work on my form. I was lucky that my college transfer went through without the need for an audition, but I still have to provide medical proof that my ankle is heeled before they’ll let me begin. “I have to go out so I won’t be back for dinner. Is that all right with you?” Dylan says, as he stands and clears the burger containers from the table. I try to hide my disappointment with a laugh. “Why wouldn’t that be all right? I don’t own you.” I stand and grab a sponge to wipe up any crumbs left behind from our lunch. He drops the containers in the trash and chuckles. “Are you sure about that?” I turn and face him with a frown. “What’s that supposed to mean? I don’t force you to spend time with me. You’re doing that all on your own.” He moves toward me, stopping right in front of me as he looks down at me with a smile, his green eyes sparkling. “I know, Rusty. And I love every minute of it. I’ll see you tomorrow maybe. Call me if you need to.” Then he leans down and gives me a kiss on the cheek, and the surprise of it cases me to flinch and suck in my breath, my hand flying up to cover the spot where his lips touched. It’s burning with

a heat that sets my heart beating a touch too fast. When his eyes meet mine they seem a little confused, or perhaps hurt. Oh god, why did I have to react like that? Friends kiss each other on the cheek all the time right? It doesn’t have to mean anything. I force my hand back down to my side and let out a little laugh before pressing my lips together then rising up on my one good set of toes to kiss him on his cheek (his skin is really soft beneath my lips – I didn’t expect that). “Have fun tonight.” One side of his mouth quirks in a grin, and his eyes seem to lighten. “I’ll see you later, Rusty. Don’t go throwing any wild parties.” “I’ll try not to,” I reply as I watch him leave the house and hear his car start up and drive away. Then I stand there all alone, wondering what the hell I’m supposed to do with my time until Josh gets back from work at eleven. I’m not used to being in the house by myself for hours on end.

Dylan What the hell was that? I fucking leaned in and kissed her without thinking. I was aiming for her fucking mouth, but she turned her head slightly so I got her cheek – what the fucking fuck?! And it felt so natural too, like it was how we’re supposed to be together. Fucking. Weird. I’m obviously getting way too comfortable with this chick in my house. Shit. And the look on her face! It was as if I was burning a god-dammed hole, right through the side of her face. Jesus, imagine if I had have gotten her lips…What a nightmare! I make it to the end of our block, before I stop the car and contemplate turning back around. I think I should probably explain to her that it didn’t mean anything. And it doesn’t, right? We’re just two friends that get along really well. She’s Josh’s girl – she’s fun to be around, and while I find myself organizing appointments around my time with her, that’s just because she’s fun to be around, and it’s kind of my fault she can’t go out and work and make new friends. Plus, I like talking to her. I like getting to know her. Everything comes easy between us, and I like that I can pretty much just say anything and she’ll get it without my having to explain it to her. But, she’s Josh’s girl… She’s gorgeous, so I’m attracted to her. But then, who wouldn’t be? I even think Roxy might have a bit of a lady boner for her. And the more time I spend with her, the more I get it. I get why Josh is so head over heels for her. Avery is one of those people who draws others in. It’s like her light can feed the souls of those around her. (But who feeds hers?) She’s Josh’s girl. My fingers grip the steering wheel, flexing and relaxing, flexing and relaxing. I should tell her it didn’t mean anything. I should tell her I didn’t mean to kiss her – and it was just the cheek (thank god). It didn’t mean anything… Before I can think about it anymore, I turn the car around and head back home. She has the music turned up really loud. It’s a little distorted from outside the house, but I think she’s listening to Stone Temple Pilots. At first I walk to the door slowly then I remember what she was doing the last time I came home and she was listening to music, and I quicken my pace. She still has her foot in a cast – surely she’s not dancing? I open the door, my eyes going straight to the lounge area where I found her last time. But she isn’t there. I frown and turn my head the other way and find her standing at the counter in the kitchen with her back to me. She’s standing on her good leg with one of those exercise bands tied between her feet as she moves her bad leg in and out at different angles, kind of like she’s doing ballet warm up exercises. I stand and watch her for a moment. She moves her arm and head in that same graceful way that ballet dancers do. How does she manage to move like that while doing a simple exercise to rock music? My eyes travel down her body, pausing on her pert ass, looking snug in a pair of yoga pants as it jumps slightly with each movement. It’s kind of mesmerizing. Until of course, she begins to turn around and I panic (I’m supposed to be here explaining that the kiss didn’t mean anything, and here I am staring at her ass!). Still standing in the open doorway, I shut the front door with a bang, startling her a little, but at least she isn’t mid-spin this time, so instead of falling and breaking a bone, she turns to me in surprise then smiles when she sees me. “I thought I wasn’t going to see you until tomorrow?” “Uh, you weren’t,” I say, looking down at the strength band that has now fallen to the floor. “Is this what you do every afternoon when I go back to work?” She nods. “Yeah. Well, except for when I go back with you, of course. But yeah, I exercise. I tried dancing but that didn’t turn out so great. So staying limber is the next best thing.” Leaning down, she picks up the green band and places it on the counter before sliding her hand over the top of her hair.

I stand there and look at her for a moment, trying to find a way to start the conversation I came here to have. But for some reason, the words don’t come out and instead I hear myself saying, “Would you like to come for a drive – if you’re not busy of course?” She doesn’t hesitate. “Sure,” she says. “Just let me grab my purse.” I wait by the door for her as she hobbles around then smiles at me when she’s ready. I usher her out the door and hold her hand to steady her as she steps down the front stoop and heads for my car. I open the door and hold it for her, as she slides into the comfortable leather interior, being careful not to knock her cast. “All good?” I ask, and she nods so I close the door for her and walk over to the driver’s side, tossing the keys up in the air and catching them before I slip in next to her and start the car. “So where are we going?” she asks once we’re heading back down the street. “To see my grandmother.” “Your grandmother? I thought she died. Didn’t you say you inherited the house from her?” I glance at her and smile. “I do have two parents you know. And they had parents too. So…two grandmothers.” “Oh, that was really dumb. I’m sorry, I wasn’t thinking. I only knew my mom’s mom because my parents split, and my dad took off when I was too young to remember. I just assumed because you said you were from a single mother too.” “Single mom, and an absent dad, yeah. But my dad’s mom is the one who died and left me the house. She was always pretty good to me. She didn’t leave a thing to my dad because she was angry with him for taking off on his family. But my mom’s mom – my grams, she’s still alive. But she’s in a nursing home now. My mom’s always been too busy with her own selfish life. So I make sure I go and visit her every month.” “That’s nice of you.” “Is it?” I shrug. “I don’t know. She doesn’t seem to know who I am most of the time. So I wonder if I’m just confusing her.” “Does that happen a lot?” “More often than not these days. But, it’s a good visit when she remembers who I am. When it’s not, I just go with it.” “So you play the part of whoever she thinks you are?” Glancing over at her briefly, I give her a half smile. “Basically, yeah.” “There used to be a homeless lady who spent a lot of time on our block. She always thought every one was her daughter.” “She did?” “Yeah. I thought it was really sad. I mean, how torturous to see the face of someone you love all over the place but for it to never be them.” She lets out a sigh and looks out the window at the passing scenery, and I watch her when I can, as if just observing her will help me figure out why listening to her speak, results in a craving pain that resides between my chest and my guts. What is it I want from her? She’s Josh’s girl. After driving for an hour, I pull up outside the nursing home and help Avery out of the car, keeping a hand resting gently around her waist protectively to make sure she keeps her balance, and I can easily help her when we have to go up a couple of stairs. “Dylan!” Katie, one of the caregivers calls out when we walk through the glass doors. She’s in her early fifties with graying brown hair and an ample bosom. She’s small and round with wide hips that she says bore her six children. She always has a smile and a hug for me, saying that I remind her of a young version of her late husband who lost his life over in Iraq, fighting for our country.

She wraps her arms around me as I lean down to give her a hug. Then she touches the side of my head lightly, where I’ve allowed my undercut to grow through enough to conceal the tatts on my skull, and she smiles as I start to roll down the sleeves of my dress shirt. Normally, I wouldn’t hide any of my tattoos from anyone. I’m proud of my profession, and the art I have on my body. And when Grams recognizes me, she’s always interested in talking about my art. But when she doesn’t, the tattoos can scare her, and that’s the last thing I want. Avery stands by and eyes me curiously as I secure the cuffs around wrists, and Katie brushes out the creases on my shirt. “Perfect,” she says with a smile. Then she turns to Avery with an even bigger smile, and I can see her eyes take in the vibrant color of her hair, the piercing light blue of her eyes and the smooth perfection of her skin. Avery’s presence seems to affect everyone, but Avery seems completely oblivious to it. “And who is this?” Katie asks, her eyes leaving Avery to return to me. “You’ve brought a girl with you? You have never brought a girl. Is this serious? Should I buy a new dress?” I laugh and shake my head as Avery does the same. “This is Rusty,” I start before correcting myself, calling her Rusty has become a habit of late. “I mean, Avery. She’s Josh’s girl – remember I told you they were coming to stay with me?” Her mouth forms an O shape. “Of course. I’m sorry, you just look so lovely together, I just assumed,” she says. “But you know what they say about assuming.” She laughs it off and Avery tells her it’s fine. I slip my arm around Avery’s waist again, telling Katie we’d see her on our way out, and I guide Avery toward my grandmother’s room. “Grams?” I say quietly, as I push open the door and peer inside. She’s sitting by the window staring out – which isn’t a good sign. When she looks over at me, her face is blank for a moment before recognition dawns. “Henry!” she breathes, holding out her hands for me to go to her (Henry is my uncle. I never got to meet him, but I’ve always been told I resemble him. He died in a hit and run car accident before I was even born). A slight pang of disappoint hits me in the chest, before I smile at her and give her what she needs. “Hi mom,” I say, my hand shifting from Avery’s waist to her hand as I pull her gently into the room. As I lean down to hug her, she looks at Avery and her eyes light up. “Oh! And you brought Natasha.” (I actually have no idea who Natasha is, but I nod and continue on.) “How are you?” I ask her, pulling out a seat from the small table for Avery to sit on before grabbing one for myself. “Oh, I’m fine. But they won’t let me walk to the store so I can buy supplies to make your graduation cake. I know how much you like cake. And Natasha, I was going to make chocolate cake – that’s your favorite too, right?” Avery smiles and nods, then tightens her grip around my hand, reassuringly. “Yes. That is definitely my favorite,” she says, before engaging Grams into a brief conversation about finals and her plans for college. But I don’t really hear too much. I’m too busy looking at our entwined hands. I didn’t even realize I took a hold of her hand again… She’s Josh’s girl…

Chapter 11

Avery Dylan is really quiet on the drive back home, and I worry for him. It can’t be easy seeing someone you love and having them not recognize you. “Your Grams is really nice, Dylan,” I say, turning to look at him as he focuses on the road. He presses his lips together and nods, glancing at me briefly, a pained expression on his face. I reach out and place my hand on his forearm in comfort. He’s rolled his sleeves back up now and I can see the intricate artwork once again. “Are you OK?” I ask. He nods. “Is that why you let your hair grow out – to cover the tattoo for your Grams?” He nods and I wonder if he’s ever going to speak, as I notice his teeth worrying at his lip. I remove my hand and let out a small sigh, wishing he’d talk to me instead of staying silent. I feel like I’ve done something wrong. He glances down at his arm where my hand was then back at me before turning his attention again to the road. “They scare her,” he says suddenly. “What do – the tattoos?” He nods. “If she’s lucid and remembers me they don’t bother her. But if she isn’t, she can get a little upset when a strange tattooed man walks into her room. She’s the only person I’ll cover them up for.” “So you let your hair grow all month then shave your undercut again after you’ve gone to visit her?” “Pretty much,” he says as we pull into our street and he stops in front of the house. “Listen, will you be fine until Josh gets home on your own?” He keeps his head down and focuses on the center of his steering wheel. I can feel melancholy radiating off him. I give him a reassuring smile as I open the door. “I’m a big girl, you know. I can be on my own. You don’t have to worry about me.” He looks up at me. “Rusty, I worry about you all the time.” Then he reaches across the car and pulls the door closed before he pulls away from the curb. I think he’s driving off, but he just turns the car around and waits across the street with the engine idling. Curiously, I lift my hand and wave before I hobble up the path then into the house. Only then do I hear his car drive away. *** “Is Dylan out tonight?” Josh asks when he gets home and practically falls beside me on the couch. It’s after eleven and he looks absolutely exhausted. I move so he can put his head on my lap and I run my fingers through his brown hair as he sighs contentedly. “He left before dinner. So I just made a sandwich for myself. How was work?” “Busy. One day, I think my head is going to explode from an information overload. The kids are such troopers...” A small frown creases his brow and he goes quiet for a moment, and I wonder if he’s going to tell me what’s on his mind. But he doesn’t. “Tell me about them. I want to know what it’s like.” Reaching up, he takes my other hand in his then presses a kiss to my palm before holding it to his chest. “It’s just hard, Avery. It’s really hard,” he says, and I feel a pang of disappointment in my chest. He’s always so vague about his work, and I wish he’d tell me more. I’d like to know what it’s like and how he’s feeling about working with sick children. Does it hurt him to see them so unwell? Is he coping? But this is all I’m getting from him and as much as I can see that he’s taking comfort in my presence, I just wish he’d let me do more.

“How was your day?” he asks, closing his eyes as he wriggles his head a little to get more comfortable. “It was good. Dylan took me out to see his grandmother.” “The one with Alzheimer’s?” “Yeah. She thought I was someone called Natasha.” “Hmmm,” he says, as I continue to stroke his hair, and relay the conversation I had with her. Then I tell him how quiet Dylan was in the car. “I think it’s really hard on him to see her that way,” I say, letting out a sigh as I remember the pained expression on his face on the way home in the car. It’s then that I realize that Josh hasn’t responded in a while, and I look down at him, seeing the steady rise and fall of his chest as he sleeps soundly on my lap. For a while, I just sit and watch TV like that, and when I grow tired, I slide from beneath him, place a pillow under his head, and a blanket on his body. Then I kiss him softly and retire to our large bed, empty and alone. I let out a sigh and turn my pillow to the side, hugging it to me. I miss my boyfriend.

Chapter 12

Dylan When I wake the next morning, I’m feeling just as confused as I was yesterday. I had hoped that after a night out, I’d be feeling more like myself, however, things didn’t go according to plan, and I ended up coming home at two in the morning to find Josh fast asleep on the couch. Part of me wanted to wake Avery up and ask if she was OK (why was he on the couch? Where they in a fight?) But I let her be, and instead spent the night tossing and turning and wondering what I was going to do because there was no point in denying it anymore. I’m fucking attracted to my best friend’s girl – like, totally into her attracted. And I can’t seem to stop thinking about her. What the hell am I supposed to do? By the time the sun starts peeking through the blinds, I’ve decided that maybe what I need is a bit of distance. There are guest spots available at other tattoo parlors and I’ve always wanted to travel – I can go and spend a few months out there, make more of a name for myself in the industry and hopefully, by the time I come back, I won’t be looking at her and thinking like a hungry man. I’ll be looking at her as who she is – she’s Avery. She’s Josh’s girl. Josh’s girl. That girl is not mine. An alarm goes off in Avery and Josh’s room, and I listen as I hear her groan a little in her sleep then shut off the sound. I wait a little as I hear her go down the stairs. Then I hear a cell phone go off before she says something to Josh. He doesn’t sound like he wants to wake up at all. When I hear the shower turn on, I get up and throw on a shirt and a pair of sweatpants then head downstairs. I find Avery in the kitchen, playing the domestic goddess and looking perfect as always. “Mornin’ Rusty,” I say as I approach, and she turns from scooping coffee into the filter and smiles at me like I just told her she’s won a prize. “Good morning. Did you sleep here last night?” “Yeah, I got in around two.” “No fish biting?” she asks with a wink, and I can’t help but chuckle. “I wasn’t fishing.” “Oh,” she says, turning back to the coffee machine to click the filter in place and flick the on button. “I um…when I got home, Josh was on the couch. Is everything OK?” “What? Oh, yeah. He was just exhausted and fell asleep as soon as he got home. Poor guy. The job’s really hard on him I think.” She moves about the kitchen pulling out mugs and plates for everyone and she places slices of bread in the toaster. “You don’t need to make anything for me. I can do it myself,” I tell her. She shrugs. “I really don’t mind. You get me lunch all the time.” “But you cook dinner.” “I really don’t mind.” She turns to me and smiles. “Do you have an early client?” “Uh, no. I just couldn’t sleep.” “Something on your mind?” “Kind of…” She turns to me and raises an eyebrow, seeming completely oblivious to the torture that’s going through my mind. I open my mouth and close it, struggling to find the right words. “Is it because of yesterday with your Grams?” She places a plate of hot toast in front of me, and coffee made just the way I like it. Then she hands me the butter and a knife. “Stop!” I snap, and she flinches, her eyes wide, confused. “Stop acting like my wife, or my… my mother. This needs to stop!” Her eyes shine with emotion and she drops her gaze. “I’m not trying to be either of those

things,” she says calmly, although her voice shakes a little at the end of the sentence. “But if that’s the way you feel. Then fine. I’ll stop.” She takes the coffee and toast then dumps the contents in the sink and the trash. “Happy?” I shake my head. “No. I’m not happy at all.” She frowns and looks at me as if trying to piece together a puzzle. “What is going on with you?” I shake my head. “I just think we’re getting to comfortable with each other.” “Why is that a problem?” I step forward and lower my voice a little. “I don’t know. Because you were sitting there holding my hand yesterday while everyone assumed we were together.” “I was what? It was you – oh my god. What is this really about?” I shake my head, pulling at the front of my hair as my head aches because I’m fucking this up. I’m tired and I’m confused and I need for her to stop being nice to me. “I just don’t want you getting the wrong idea about me, all right?” She looks at me for a long moment, her hands on her hips as she searches my eyes. “Right now, the only idea I have about you, is that you’re an asshole who’s trying to push away the only person who really knows you.” This pressure builds in my chest as her words hit me with their truth, proving that I’ve let her get too close. Proving that I need to put some distance between us. I open my mouth to speak, but Josh’s voice interrupts. “Avery! I need you to pick up my shirts from the dry cleaner. Is that OK? This is my last one. Oh hey,” he says, when he sees me standing across from her. “I didn’t realize you were home. How are you? I feel like I see you less than when I was in New York these days.” “Life gets in the way, man,” I say, giving Avery one last look before I slap Josh on the shoulder and excuse myself to use the shower. “I have to stop in to the barber before work to get this undercut shaved off.” “You should get Avery to shave it for you. It’ll save you the trip. She cuts my hair so we have clippers. You don’t mind, do you, babe?” he asks her, and she shrugs to indicate she’s fine. Then he turns back to me. “She’s quite good at it.” “Seems like she’s good at everything,” I comment a little snarkily – why can’t I stop snapping at her? “Except people,” she responds. “I obviously have a problem with reading people.” She sets Josh’s breakfast on the table then returns to the kitchen to get a plate and coffee for herself, taking the seat next to him. “Babe, you’re great with people,” Josh says, leaning over to kiss her cheek, exactly where I did yesterday (it bothers me). Then he turns his attention back to me. “She’s great with people. I don’t know why she thinks she isn’t.” Neither of us responds and I excuse myself again to go and take my shower. “Oh, before you go – I have next Saturday off, and Avery’s getting her cast off today. We should go out and celebrate.” I glance over at Avery. She didn’t tell me it was coming off today… “Uh, sure. That’d be perfect actually. I’m actually headed to New York for a bit. So it will be my last chance.” “Why are you going to New York?” Avery asks quickly. “To do a guest spot at another shop.” “For how long?” “I don’t know. As long as it takes.”

Her mouth drops open a little and she blinks quickly before she lifts her coffee cup and takes a long drink. “That’s great news, buddy. That’s got to be great for your career,” Josh says with a smile, looking genuinely pleased for me. I glance at Avery again. She’s not looking at me. “Yeah. It’s a good opportunity.” Excusing myself yet again, I climb the stairs to take that shower, and end the conversation. But before I make it to the bathroom, I hear Avery call out, “I’ll be up when you’re finished to cut your hair.”

Chapter 13

Avery Dylan sits in front of me on the kitchen stool I brought up to the bathroom, as I run the clippers through the overgrown undercut of his damp blond hair. It’s soft and silky against my fingers and smells clean and fresh from his shower. I watch it as it falls in clumps onto the tiled floor and slowly exposes the intricate tribal pattern that adorns the lower part of his skull. He doesn’t speak to me at all, and I wonder what I’ve done to him to make him feel angry with me. I thought we were friends. I was beginning to see him as my best friend. I felt so close to him and right now, I feel so far away that it makes my heart ache. Using a soft brush, I flick away all of the loose hair when I’m finished, then I brush my hand over his scalp feeling the smooth skin beneath my palm. Then I pause and slowly trace my finger along the thick black lines of his tattoo design. “Why didn’t you tell me you were leaving?” I ask, when I reach the end of the pattern. I unclip the cape around his shoulders and place my hand on his bare shoulder, firm and broad. I trace my fingertips over the tattoo design there as well; a black and grey, gladiator style battle scene on one side, then on the other, there’s a colorful Japanese koi design with moving water and floating lilies to complete the scene. Each is vastly different in style but they’re both perfect works of art on his skin. His well muscled back is still a blank canvas, as is his chest, however, he has some script written on his left ribs that is being obscured by his arm so I can’t read it. I take a crazy long time inspecting his tattoos, knowing I shouldn’t, but wanting to anyway because I’ve always wondered exactly what they looked like without his t-shirts obscuring them. I look up at his face where it’s reflected in the mirror, and I see that his eyes are closed, as if it hurts him when I touch him. So I pull my hands away. “Why won’t you talk to me? Have I done something? Are you angry with me?” I ask, keeping my eyes on his. He opens them, his green eyes meeting mine via our reflections and just staring at me for a moment. “Don’t forget who you belong to, Avery” he says, before he stands and pulls his tee over his head. “Thanks for the haircut.” Then he brushes past me and walks straight out of the bathroom, leaving me wondering what the hell happened between yesterday and today. I know he held my hand when we were with his Grams, and maybe I shouldn’t have let him. But, he seemed to need me, and I wanted to be there for him. I thought we cared about each other. I thought he cared about me. Looking at myself in the mirror, I see the worry in my eyes and the anxiety in the pink of my cheeks. I won’t let him do this to me. I won’t let him take away the only real friend I’ve ever had…

Dylan In my room, I remove my sweats and pull on a pair of jeans for work. Then I sit on the end of my bed to put on my boots, when my door bursts open and Avery storms through it as well as anyone with a cast on their foot can. “I’m not letting you do this, Dylan! I’m not letting you push me away over…over fucking handholding!” she yells, her eyes wide and her hair looking like fire in the morning light. It’s like it’s taken on a life of it’s own and is projecting her anger. Fuck, she’s beautiful when she’s angry. “It’s not your decision to make,” I state calmly, leaning forward to tighten my laces before I stand up and slip my wallet in my pocket, attaching the chain to my belt loop. “And it’s not yours. What have I done to you? None of this makes any sense, Dylan. You don’t get to suddenly end our friendship without some sort of an explanation.” “What friendship, Avery? I felt bad for making you fall and break your ankle. I helped you while you recovered. Today you’re getting your cast off. My job here is done. I don’t need to feel beholden to you anymore,” I snap, pushing her away with my words. I need her to leave me be. I need her to get out of my head and out of my dreams. Not when she’s not mine. Not when she’s not mine. Stubbornly, she moves toward me and pokes her finger in my chest. I can smell her hair and her skin. It makes me a little lightheaded when I’m so on edge from having her hands on me, cutting my hair, inspecting my tattoos – tracing them with her fingertips. I had to close my eyes and force myself to stay calm before my cock betrayed me and stood to attention at the intimacy of her touch. I have never let a woman touch me like that. My ink is my ink. I close my eyes again, and when I don’t respond, she slaps both of her hands against my chest, in a futile attempt to move me. I open my eyes again. I need her to understand…she’s not mine. But I want her to be mine. “What is your problem?!” she demands, her ice blue eyes shining up at me with confused emotion. She doesn’t know what she does to me. I need to make her understand. I need… Before I can finish the thought, my instincts take over, and I grab her on either side of her face and bring my mouth down on hers. I hold her to me, my kiss demanding against her mouth. At first she responds with surprise, tensing up and pushing against my chest. Then something changes, and she relaxes into me, her hands sliding over my shoulders until her arms wrap around my neck, and she returns the kiss with equal intensity. My head spins with a mixture of emotions, knowing this is wrong, but feeling a need so strong that I can’t seem to stop myself. But I have to. She’s my best friend’s girl. She’s not mine… Forcing myself away, I look into her tortured eyes, and see the same emotions whirling through her. My chest heaves, and more than anything, I want to kiss her again. I want everything with her, all at once. But I don’t do anything except back away from her. “Did you feel that?” I ask in a hoarse whisper, while I continue to slowly move away from her, holding my hands out defensively as if I’m afraid of what might happen if I stop moving. She nods, her lips parted, her eyes brimming with tears. “What was it? What did you feel?” “Everything. I felt...” I nod slowly, knowing exactly what she felt. “Music. It felt like music.” She closes her eyes, and a tear slides down her cheek. “It was like dancing,” she whispers.

“That, Rusty – that feeling right there. That’s what my problem is. Neither of us should feel that way. Not when you’re in love with Josh. Not when you’re not mine,” I tell her regretfully, as I turn and walk out of the room, hoping she doesn’t follow me. But Avery is stubborn, and I…I’m just a man who isn’t strong enough to say no to the woman who somehow, without me even realizing, has come to own me. I need her to be mine… End of Part One Part two, releasing June 10, 2015. Thank you so much for reading! If you enjoyed, be sure to keep an eye out for more serial goodness by Eve Cates. In the meantime, please tell your friends about the series and perhaps consider leaving a review to let everyone know what you thought. Links you’ll need to stay up to date Newsletter Sign up - http://eepurl.com/be3tFX Join the reader group - https://www.facebook.com/groups/844125942296492/ Website – www.evecatesromance.com Facebook - Fan Page - https://www.facebook.com/pages/Eve-Cates-Romance/540414972765256 Facebook - Profile - https://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=100009231158899 Twitter - https://twitter.com/just_eve_cates