It takes only one more second of thinking about Allie’s eyes to realize that I want to get myself out of this predicament. I’ve never tried to get a woman to quit hitting on me. Oblivious to my thoughts, Mara leans close and whispers in my ear about leaving, then explores my neck with her lips.
I glance down at the amazing tits pushed against my arm. I conjure up Allie’s sexy voice. Mara’s teeth nip at my ear. I imagine Allie’s lip ring. Mara squeezes my ass. I imagine Allie’s rainstorm eyes.
I draw in a deep breath and shake my head no. “Can’t. Got to get up early.” That is true. Romeo has us booked tomorrow for another recording session. But Mara knows early mornings never stop me from staying out late.
She stays pushed up against me but starts to pout.
I shrug.
She glares.
I drain half my beer.
Finally, Mara jerks away from me, yanks her purse from a chair, and walks away without looking back. Both Todd and Mac watch her swaying ass disappear down the stairs. Good. They’ll remember she left without me.
We drink some more. Todd and Mac try to talk Sam into checking out the shop. He just shakes his buzzed head and grins, showing them the lame tattoos on his arm. Though he’s cut like a fucking bodybuilder, I swear the pussy is scared of needles. Girls are hanging around us, but none are as aggressive as Mara.
Sam switches to Sprite. He may be a heavy partier, but he never drinks and drives. I used to, back in my teenage years. Sideswiped a tree once. Totaled my motorcycle. Walked home. With a broken arm. It was the next morning by the time the cops showed up and tried to pin me with careless driving, but my parents threw a fit. At them and me. I didn’t give a shit, but liked the attention. Was probably looking for it. But with one hotshot lawyer, the case was dropped within a month. And once again I was off my parents’ radar. Yet after having several nightmares about not hitting a tree but a person, I never drank and drove again. Not even to get my parents’ attention.
The bar announces last call. I decline. Sam wants to go. He is all about getting home and doing his best tomorrow. The ass has bought into Romeo’s plans for our indie glory. Gabe already left with his stick-with-tits girlfriend. We give Todd and Mac some fist bumps and leave them at the table, which is still populated with girls.
We drive home, and my buzz dissipates at the thought of my lonely dorm room and my even lonelier bed.
Chapter 7
Justin
When I pull up in front of Dragonfly Ink, I’m nervous as shit. I went on a few real dates in high school, but they hadn’t scared me. Now I’m about to go on a fake date and my balls are tied in knots. I’m not worried about going with the flow and acting the boyfriend. I’m freaked out because I want to make an impression. Something I never worry about. And I’m clueless about how to do it while on this sham of a date. My charm hasn’t gotten me far with this girl.
Yet.
As soon as I open the shop door, Allie’s coming at me. Hot damn. She’s wearing a dress. Black. Short. Tight. It has only one sleeve, her tattoo acting as the other and her bare shoulder gleaming under the track lights. “Hey,” I say as she lifts a coat. I reach for it, then hold it out for her. “You look beautiful.”
“Thanks,” she responds hastily, sliding into the coat and flying past me out the door.
Opening the car door for her, I notice the reason for her quick flight. Mandy, Shaya, and Todd peer at us from the shop’s window. Todd gives me a thumbs-up. I give them all a quick wave and hurry around the car, wanting to get away from our audience as quickly as Allie clearly does.
“Where to?” I ask, starting the car. She gives me directions as I try not to stare at the sleek length of her legs ending in sexy heels. She finishes the directions with, “By the way, you look pretty good too.”
“Thanks,” I say. I don’t share that it took me for-fucking-ever to pick out my clothes. I finally ended with a black Armani button-up shirt, frayed jeans, and low black boots. Not exactly the outfit of the year, but with my nerves in overdrive, I couldn’t fathom what to wear to an art show.
The silence in the car is awkward for the first few minutes, until I ask, “So should I know anything about your ex? Will he be breathing down my neck all night?”
She waves a hand. “He’ll be fine. I just don’t want anything to do with that revolving door.”
The revolving door comment hits my conscience. Though I’ve never slept with more than one girl a night, the next night could always mean someone new. At that thought, I decide to stay off the topic of her ex. “Is this a good friend who’s showing at the gallery or an art friend?”
“Both. We’ve known each other since high school. I haven’t had much time to see her lately, which is another reason I didn’t want to miss the show.”
“Another art geek?”
“Yes. She was never as geeky as me, and obviously way more driven, considering she’s doing the whole gallery thing.”
“I’m going to be honest, I didn’t know there was an art gallery in the area.”
“You from around here?”
“Been here three years, but I grew up in Grand Rapids.”
“Actually, there are two art studios around here. One is more a mix of photography and art, and the one we’re going to is mainly paintings and sculpture but also offers classes. But yeah, art galleries exist outside of New York or London or Grand Rapids. Smaller scale, with less commas on the price tags.”
I can smell her perfume, something clean and flowery scented. It fits her perfectly. “Your friend…”
“Hannah.”
“She paints?”
“No. She does constructed sculpture.”
“Constructed sculpture?”
She nods. “Instead of molding the piece or chiseling it from stone, it’s built.”
“You like her work?”
She glances at me. “Well, yeah.”
I give her a look that says, Tell me the truth.
Allie laughs and the low, husky sound fills the interior of the car. Damn. She could giggle and it would be sexy. She pushes auburn waves behind a shoulder. “I do like her art. I would love to own a piece, if I had the extra money. She has major talent.”
I slow as we near the address she gave me. It’s in an older, renovated part of town filled with boutiques and little restaurants. Since the gallery parking lot is full, I pull a U-turn and park on the opposite side of the street. “If the amount of cars out here is any indication, she must do well.”
Allie nods. “Hannah eventually wants to make it to New York.”
I kill the engine and shoot her a look. “Any last words before we become a public couple?”
Her hands pause on the seat belt as she glances at me. “Thanks for coming. Hopefully, it will be tame and we’ll just have fun checking out art and sipping cheap wine.”
“You. Me. Art. Fun. Cheap wine. Sounds good,” I say as she reaches for the door handle. “Hey, let your date get that.”
She rolls her eyes but lets out a soft, nervous giggle. I was right. Her giggle is sexy too.
After opening the door, I take her hand and we walk across the street. She doesn’t pull away, and the way our hands fit together feels perfect. We hang our coats on a rack in the entrance, and as soon as we enter the studio, a waitress dressed in a top hat offers up a tray of drinks. I almost laugh at the ridiculous display. Gummy worms lie at the bottom of a plastic flute of sparkling wine and red wine fills a plastic glass with a flashing pink stem. Keeping my inner wine snob in check, I reach for the red wine. Allie goes for the flute of sparkling wine. Hand in hand we start roaming the huge gallery space, which is split down the middle by sleek white panels. Soft Spanish guitar music plays in the background.