Explicit: A Novel

by Ava Harrison

  “It’s just you and me. Please, look at me. I want to know you’re physically all right.”

  A minute later, her head lifts, the tears in her eyes breaking me. “I’m so embarrassed, Pierce.”

  My shoulders sag. “There’s nothing to be embarrassed about. You’ve been through something none of us has. You busted your ass out there. You should be proud. Fuck, I am.”

  She sniffles, swiping a tear from her cheek. “I don’t want to face them, and to be honest, I don’t think I can walk.” That makes her cry again.

  “Shhh.” I rub her back, trying to soothe her. “I’ve got you.”

  “I feel like such a fucking idiot,” she says through her tears.

  “Stop. You’re perfect, Linds. You seriously made me so proud today.”

  Her big eyes look up into mine and something happens. Something that almost brings me to my knees. Lindsey Walker makes me want to be a better man. Despite all the resistance, bickering, and pushing she did, I want her. I think I always have. No, I know I always have. It’s why I pushed her away in Antibes. I wasn’t ready to be who she needed. Who she deserved. But fuck if I won’t be that person now.

  “I’m going to carry you, okay?”

  She nods.

  “We’ll go out the back. I’ll get you in the car, and then I’ll run back in to get our stuff and let Carson know. You won’t have to see anyone.” I lift her off the floor and into my arms.

  “Thank you, Pierce,” she says, penetrating me with her teary blue eyes. They’re bluer than normal right now. It reminds me of Antibes, when they were so dark with lust I couldn’t even make out their color. Now they shine like flawlessly cut sapphires. Beautiful. Mesmerizing. Perfect.

  Funny how mood can change one’s appearance so significantly. Or maybe it’s just getting to know someone that makes them more beautiful. I’m lost in thought when she cuddles into my chest, shielding her face from onlookers, but I keep my promise. We remain unseen. It’s the first of many I’ll make, and it won’t be the last one I keep. I’m claiming Lindsey as mine, whether she likes it or not.

  “Where are we going?” I say, my head leaning against him. I watch as other cars zoom past, feeling as if it’s all in slow motion. The humiliation I feel presses down on me. I knew I was overdoing it. I should have stopped. I should have listened to my body. But my pride got the best of me. Stupid, stupid pride.

  “I’m taking you home,” Pierce says from beside me in the back seat of the cab.

  I owe him so much. He was so caring, so gentle, when I didn’t deserve it. He tried to tell me not to overdo it, but I wouldn’t listen, and because of my stubbornness I fell flat on my face in front of everyone. The one thing I pride myself on more than anything is my independence, but I only managed to show weakness and stupidity. Pierce picked me up, grabbed my stuff, carried me outside, hailed a cab, and is now holding me cradled in his arms, allowing me to cry on his shoulders. For that, I will forever be grateful.

  “Did you grab my purse? If not, I’m locked out.” My voice is hollow, lifeless.

  “I grabbed your purse, but we won’t be needing your keys. I’m taking you to my home.”

  I sit up, head turning toward him. “Your home?”

  He simply nods.

  The rest of the ride is silent, neither of us speaking, both lost in our own thoughts. Mine, though, are dark. I’m not sure about his, but mine makes me feel ill. They make my heart beat too fast with humiliation. They make my stomach ache with pain. I try to not get lost in self-loathing of not being better, but instead, I stare out the window and let the city pass me by.

  When we arrive, he offers to pick me up again, but I shrug him off. I can walk, well, I can limp, but still. Together we enter a large apartment building and are greeted by a smartly dressed man. “Hello, Mr. Lancaster,” the gentleman calls.

  Pierce smiles. “Hello, Adam.”

  The communication between the two is strange to me. Hearing Pierce referred to as Mr. Lancaster is the first oddity, but the professionalism he exudes also catches me off guard. The Pierce I know would be lax and youthful in his interactions. This man beside me is just that—a man.

  He puts a key into the elevator and ushers me inside. Of course he lives in the penthouse. It’s obvious as we continue to rise farther and farther, bypassing every floor. The elevator opens into a large loft.

  I always thought of Pierce as a shallow child with no taste outside of tawdry and expensive. However, this space tells an entirely different story. Pierce is cultured and sophisticated. The décor is not flashy at all. It’s understated and masculine. Great art adorns the walls and I’m taken aback. I would have never guessed.

  “I’m sure the ladies love this place,” I say offhandedly, trying to make a jab, but my words come out breathless, missing the mark.

  He bites out a laugh. “They’ve never been here . . .”

  “What?”

  He shrugs as if this is no big deal. “It’s true. I’ve never brought anyone home.”

  It’s a very big deal. The picture I’d painted of Pierce Lancaster was so different. So incredibly inaccurate. I feel foolish and hypocritical. The truth is, I always loved the idea of Pierce, but this guy is so far beyond my reach. He’s nothing like I thought he was. This version, the version I’ve seen at Polaris, the guy I’ve become friends with . . . this is a new Pierce. This man is everything any girl could ever want.

  My stomach flips and flops, but a niggling voice in my head tells me that can’t be true. He’s got to be messing with me, right? Every night he was with a girl at the clubs. Am I really to believe he never brought a girl back here?

  “Yeah, right,” I say, calling him out.

  He turns his head toward me, drilling me with an intense stare. “I’m serious, Lindsey. I’m not trying to tell you I didn’t leave with girls, but they never came here.”

  My chest swells.

  “My place has always been off-limits. Not even my friends have been here. I don’t need that shit here. This is my place to get away from it all.”

  I don’t blame him. This place is amazing. Opening it up to our old crowd would have ruined it. My father received bills totaling in the millions for damage caused by parties at my places. I cringe at the thought of how ridiculous I was back then before my accident. Back when I partied hard enough to make me forget my family shit. How completely and totally irresponsible. Those days are over, and I couldn’t be happier for it.

  “Thank you for bringing me here,” I say, smiling. “Thank you for everything. What you did for me back there really means a lot.” I lower my head, feeling self-conscious under his gaze.

  “I just want you to be okay.”

  “But you didn’t have to,” I press, wanting him to know that what he did was no small gesture to me.

  “You’re my friend, I know you want to fight that fact, but we are friends. And as friends, I’d do anything for you. You know that, right?”

  I nod, feeling it in my bones that he would do anything. Needing space and time to think, I walk to a painting hanging on the wall. It’s vibrant and beautiful, and not as masculine as the other décor. This brings life to the place. I turn back to him.

  “When did you move here?”

  “This amazing apartment was given to me by Spencer.” Condescendence drips off his voice. Each syllable spills more contempt. “He purchased it for me shortly after graduation.”

  “That was kind of him. One heck of a graduation present.”

  “It was his way of getting me out of my father’s hair. I was a distraction. One the Lancasters couldn’t afford.”

  I feel horrible for Pierce. It’s clear he truly believes that. The isolation he must have felt all these years breaks me. He’s the only one not involved in the family business.

  “You can’t possibly think they felt that way,” I say, knowing what I’ve been told about Spencer and how important his family is to him.

  “How else would I feel when my brother came to me o
ne day and told me, ‘Pierce, your antics are a distraction for Dad. I bought you an apartment so you’ll have your own space. We’re going to have a moving company move you over there. It’s about time you have your own place, don’t you think?’” He tries to imitate Spencer and it comes out ridiculous.

  I don’t mean to laugh, but I do. “We might have to work on your voice-overs.”

  At that, Pierce laughs. After a few moments of silence, I try again to help him see he might have it incorrect. “Has it ever occurred to you that maybe he thought both of you needed your space? At that point in time maybe it was better for you to get out of there. I don’t know much about Spencer, but according to Olivia, he cares greatly about you and the family.”

  Pierce scoffs. “Spencer only cares about himself and that fucking hotel. I’d burn them all to the ground if I could.”

  His hostility is understandable to me. I’ve been there. I’ve felt the exact same way. I can’t fault him for his feelings when he’s been left to believe these things his entire life.

  “So, you have no interest in going into the family business, I take it.”

  He laughs. “Hell no. The last thing I ever want to do is be a part of the family business.” He sighs. “Just another way that shows I have nothing in common with any of my family.”

  “If not the family business, then what?” I ask, genuinely curious as to what he wants.

  He looks at me shyly. “Honestly?”

  I nod.

  “I love to paint. I’ve always wanted to be an artist.”

  “Really?” I can’t help but be surprised.

  “Yeah. I actually painted all of those,” he says, gesturing toward the painting I was just looking at and the others next to it. I jerk back, stunned.

  “Y-You painted those?” No way, I think to myself. “Are you putting me on?” There’s no way in hell Pierce painted these pictures. They are incredible. It would take a professional artist months to complete these.

  “I did all of them in high school. It was my thing.” He shrugs as if this is normal for a high schooler to do. “I love painting. There’s something so relaxing about it.”

  “Pierce, you’re seriously good,” I say, walking up and examining another one. “Like, incredibly talented. I would imagine these are worth thousands of dollars. Why aren’t you doing this?” I wave my hand across the room, motioning toward the wall of gorgeous custom paintings. I’d pay big money to commission one of these.

  “There’s no money in it. Besides, my dad thought it was ridiculous.”

  I balk at his lack of knowledge if he truly believes that. “He owns hotel chains. His hotels are known for their décor. Surely, he can’t find art ridiculous considering it’s a focal point in every one of his rooms. You could easily sell your stuff to the Lancaster.”

  “I never got the impression it would be an option,” he says coldly.

  “Well, have you ever asked? Have you ever showed them these?”

  “No, I haven’t, because it’s not something they’d find a reliable career.” He stalks off toward the back of the loft, clearly done with this conversation.

  My shoulders sag in defeat for him. He’s talented beyond belief, and the fact it’s going unused sickens me. I’d kill to have a talent like his. But it’s not my circus, not my monkeys. After all he’s done for me today, the last thing I should do is push him.

  “It’s a really nice place, Pierce.”

  “You haven’t even seen my TV yet.” He grins.

  I roll my eyes. Typical. Men and their TVs.

  “Are you hungry?” he asks.

  “I could eat something small,” I admit.

  “Popcorn and a movie?” He looks excited at the prospect, which makes me excited.

  “Only if we can watch a rom-com.”

  “A what?” He scrunches his nose.

  “A romantic comedy. You know, like Sleepless In Seattle.”

  “Not happening. I like you, Lucky, but not that much.” He grins, winking at me.

  “Compromise?” I pucker my lips.

  “The Heat?” he suggests. “I’m totally willing to watch anything with Sandra Bullock.”

  “That I can get with.”

  Five minutes later we’re cuddled underneath a blanket on a large sectional, popcorn in hand, watching The Heat. Pierce went all out to make me comfortable and it warms my insides.

  The care he’s shown me today is unparalleled. It makes me want to smash every last piece of the wall I’ve built around my heart. Don’t let him get too close, the voice in the back of my head warns. I can’t help but know she’s right. I have to guard myself from him, but tonight it’s just a movie and popcorn. What harm can there be in that?

  The movie is hysterical, and both of us are laughing nonstop. Pierce’s head is thrown back in laughter and I look at him, smiling wide. The carefree attitude he’s sporting is something I’ve never seen on him. This is a whole other side to Pierce Lancaster. A side I could easily fall in love with.

  I’m determined more than ever to keep true to my promise of friendship. I want to be close to him. I want to get to know him. There’s no harm in friendship. No broken hearts in the end. Friendship I can do.

  I snuggle into his shoulder and his arm comes around, pulling me even tighter into his body. The smell of aftershave and cologne twists my insides.

  “Lindsey?”

  “Yeah,” I say on a whisper.

  “Just making sure you didn’t fall asleep.”

  I chuckle. “Don’t worry. I’m not going to cramp your style and crash at your sacred bachelor pad.”

  “Oh, thank God. I was so concerned,” he says, voice full of sarcasm.

  “Nothing to fear.”

  “Not so fast. You still owe me,” he says, and I just stare at him blankly, having no clue what he’s talking about. “Friend date. I’m going to cash in on our friend date.”

  I sit up and look at him. “What?” I ask, confused.

  “You know, you made me a promise. We’re supposed to go on a friend date.” His eyes widen. “I think that’s gonna happen tomorrow.”

  “Oh, is it?”

  He grins. “Yeah, it definitely is. I’ll pick you up at seven.”

  A friend date. This is going to get interesting. The way Pierce stares into my eyes tells me he has anything but friendship on his mind. If I lean in just a little bit more, I could brush my lips against his. Perhaps his hand would come up and trail a line down my neck, making its way to my breast. From there . . .

  No more.

  This is just too much. Pierce Lancaster is dangerous to my heart, and I’m powerless to stop it.

  What did I do?

  I didn’t think this through at all. Now that my apartment is quiet and no sounds can be heard other than the steady rhythm of the outside traffic below, it’s dawning on me that this changes everything.

  Or does it?

  I’ve never really hung out with a girl before as friends. And that’s what we’re doing. Spending time together as friends.

  It’s a new concept, and to be honest, it’s refreshing.

  There’s only one problem: what to do. It can’t be romantic. It needs to show her a bit about me. Maybe open her eyes up to the fact there’s more to me than what she believed for so long.

  Last night showing her my studio was a huge step. I’m not sure she realizes how big the step was for me. No one knows I paint. Sure, Spencer has seen my studio, but he doesn’t realize the magnitude of what painting means to me. He sees it as a passing hobby, but to me it’s life.

  It’s the blood that runs through my veins. Painting is in every beat of my heart. It’s what keeps me sane. It’s . . . Me. Without it, I’m nothing, and the crazy part is my own brothers don’t understand that.

  She does.

  I could hear it in the inhale of breath she took. I could see it when her eyes widened in disbelief. For the first time, the curtain was raised and she, Lindsey Walker, saw a glimmer of the real me, not
the fake one I hide behind, and I loved it. I didn’t understand how much it would move me, change me, but hearing her words, the way she looked at my paintings; at that moment I wanted her to know everything. I wanted her praise, her reassurance, and most of all her approval.

  Fuck.

  I want her.

  She’s not willing to open up to me yet, but she will, and for now, friendship will have to be enough.

  I sit on my couch, kick my legs up, smug as shit at the turn of events, but then my stomach bottoms out, and the familiar feeling starts to creep in. Will it be enough? An anxious buzz penetrates my muscles, and I start to shake my leg. The itch. The uneasy energy. It’s loud. Unnerving. It speaks to me of hiding.

  Don’t let her in.

  You’ll let her down.

  My heart hammers. I know this feeling. Nothing good ever comes of this feeling. The ache is there. Lose yourself. Numb it. Shut it up. Find a distraction.

  Pick up the phone . . .

  My hand has a mind of its own. It reaches, it scrolls, it hovers over Trey . . .

  Don’t hit send.

  I scroll back, the name Spencer staring back at me. I press without thinking.

  “Pierce, I’m in the middle of something. If this isn’t an emergency, I’m going to need to call you back.”

  The hunger intensifies. My mouth feels like quicksand. No words form.

  “Pierce.”

  Say something. Ask for help. Tell him you need him.

  “I’m fine.”

  “Okay, good. I got to run. I’ll call you later.”

  Empty. An unbearable empty feeling is all I feel as my finger scrolls up to Trey’s number again.

  You can’t. You’re taking Lindsey out tomorrow. Be better than this.

  I know what I need to do, but it’s so damn hard. “Let me help you.” Deep within me, I hear his words. “Let me help you.”

  Without thinking, I make the call.

  “Carson, it’s me, Pierce.”

  “Hey, buddy. Is everything okay?”

  “No,” I admit on a sigh. “Nothing’s all right.”

  “Talk to me.” There’s no judgment, just concern. And with that, all the muscles in my back loosen at the thought.