Our first stop is a metal bird with long wings extended, perched on a motorcycle about half its true size. It’s kind of cool.
“Can you tell what it’s made of?” Allie asks before sipping her wine.
I look over the piece more closely, enjoying the feel of her hand in mine. Never thought I’d enjoy something so innocent. “A thin, shiny metal?”
“Close. Large paper clips. Cool, huh?”
I’m examining the piece again when a loud “Hey, girl!” sounds behind us.
As Allie turns and breaks our hand connection, she’s enveloped in fuzzy, bright green arms. The words “You made it!” come out of the fuzz. Allie laughs, returns the hug, and the owner of the fuzzy arms finally materializes. I’m looking at a girl who’s wearing a funnel-collar coat that’s impossibly fuzzy and green. The funnel is higher than her spiked pink hair.
She grabs Allie’s arm and leans close. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know Jazz would bring Trevor.” Allie’s mouth tightens but the pink-haired woman doesn’t notice. “And when did he get back? It’s like he materialized out of thin air. I know you—”
“Hannah,” Allie says, cutting her off and gesturing to me. “I’d like you to meet Justin.”
“Oh.” Hannah’s bright blue eyes drift over me for several seconds. “Well hello, Justin.” She gives Allie an approving look. “Didn’t know you had it in you, Al, but he’s delicious.”
Allie gives a tight half smile.
I grin at Hannah. “I’m not sure if I should say thanks or if Allie should.”
Hannah cocks her head. “Maybe both?”
A guy in a pink top hat clamps on Hannah’s elbow and whispers in her ear. She listens intently, then lets him drag her away while waving in our direction.
“She’d fit in New York perfectly,” I say, then take a sip of wine. It’s horrid. Or maybe I’m just used to the really good stuff.
“Yeah, she was flamboyant even in high school.” Allie motions forward with her wine glass. “Let’s check out the rest of her collection and then find somewhere inconspicuous to hang.”
I follow her to the next display and almost run into her when she suddenly stops.
A few people away, Trevor stands next to a woman in a dress much smaller and tighter than Allie’s. The woman cackles loudly before Trevor leans down and says something in her ear. A slow smile spreads across her face.
Allie stands frozen, watching them. The look on her face has my gut clenching with the realization that maybe this girl is untouchable because she already belongs to him. She turns abruptly and wraps an arm around mine. Her nails dig into my arm as she drains the rest of her wine. The hand holding the empty glass trembles a bit.
“Hey, you okay?” I ask softly.
Her lips unclench from a grimace and she nods. As a waiter passes, she exchanges her glass for another gummy-worm sparkling wine. She drains half of it in seconds, then spins toward the closest display. “I’m good,” she says stiffly. She gestures to the sculpture in front of us. “What do you think of this one?”
I glance at the piece, some sort of tower with crazy metal shit spilling down its sides. Like a cellular tower vomiting on itself. “It’s all right,” I say, though I couldn’t give a fuck what it looks like. Not when Allie appears shell-shocked.
She tugs at my arm and robotically says, “Let’s go check out the pieces on the other side.”
Our fake date has suddenly turned sour. I’m definitely not anywhere near charming her. Not sure it’s possible now.
We wander past people, some of whom Allie nods to vaguely, and check out art, but her mind is clearly far from this room. Far from me or fun or even art. Her hand stays clamped around mine. When she talks, her voice is a monotone. She’s soon on her third glass of wine. As we browse without really seeing, a few people come over and talk with us. Each of them says something about Trevor being here. I’m getting the idea they must have been together for quite a while and that their breakup was big news when it happened.
After touring a bunch of pieces that I hardly pay attention to, we end up at the back of the studio next to a wall of paintings. Seconds later Trevor, without his scantily clad date, comes up to us.
Allie stiffens and her hand slides to my shoulder.
Trevor steps in front of her. “So tell me, Al, you’re aware I wouldn’t know sculpture from a pile of turds, what do you think of the exhibit?”
Allie blinks as if coming to life, then says steadily, “It’s cohesive. The pieces build on one another and show her strengths. The three she picked as pivotal works do stand out the most. The exhibit is whimsical yet keeps her usual focus on the contrast between nature and technology.”
Trevor takes a long drink of red wine. “Then it’s good?”
She nods. “More than good. It’s actually up there with amazing.”
Twisting bleached hair over her shoulder, Trevor’s date slides closer to him and wraps an arm around his waist. Her cool gaze settles on us. “Hello, Allie.”
“Jazz,” Allie says frostily.
“Good to see you without your claws out,” she says, and Allie’s eyes turn to slits. Ignoring the murderous glare across from her, Jazz glances at me. “You going to introduce him?”
Allie’s hand glides slowly from my shoulder to wrap around the back of my neck. “This is Justin. Justin,” she nods toward the woman dressed in two feet of fabric, “this is Jazz.” Her fingers curl into the hair along my neck. “And of course, you’ve already met Trevor.”
“You enjoying the exhibit?” Jazz asks me, ignoring Allie’s rudeness.
Before I can answer, Allie presses to my side and winds her other arm across my waist. “He’s enjoying being with me.”
Trevor’s expression tightens while Jazz gives me a flat smirk.
I glance down at the girl wrapped around me. “It is hard to notice the art next to Allie.”
Trevor’s about to say something that I’m betting will match his scowl when Hannah enters—more like crash-lands in—our little group. The conversation turns to art then the past, and it’s obvious these four people went to school together. Hannah talks the most. Jazz watches Trevor. Trevor watches Allie. Allie’s hands keep roaming over me.
Though her wandering hands are a turn-on, the whole thing pisses me off more with each passing second. Yes, I know this is a fake date. Yes, my intentions toward Allie aren’t exactly noble. I simply want to get her in bed and move on to the next conquest. But after witnessing her obvious obsession with him, and noticing that he is a complete asshole, I can’t help feeling used. I don’t like the idea that she’s hitting on me to make him jealous—it occurs to me I might even be her way of getting him back. This thought gets me truly pissed. Normally, I don’t mind girls using me for my body but that’s something entirely different. This is emotional warfare and I don’t do emotions. And I don’t get used unless I’m down with it. I’m not down with this.
Unable to take the situation a second longer, I murmur an “excuse us” and drag her into the hallway that leads to the bathrooms. She follows quietly but looks stunned when I push her body to the wall but don’t shove mine against hers. Rather put my palms on each side of her head.
Her gray eyes grow wide. “Justin…”
A pant of anger escapes me. “You keep running those pretty hands all over me and I might take you up on your offer.”