by Lindsey Hart
He doesn’t look pissed off. I mean, I think that was the aim. It’s usually the aim when you go down on a person. I’m a little embarrassed that it happened within, like, a minute. He looks a little astonished too. His eyes flash as he slowly pulls away, and I nearly let out a cry when I see the regret fogging their depths.
No.
I don’t want him to regret this. I don’t want him to regret me. I never thought we’d be here like this. I thought if we finally did get anywhere near this, there wouldn’t be embarrassment. There wouldn’t be regret. That somehow, it would just be right and perfect.
“Lucas…”
“We should…we should be going over that folder. The list of people you need to hire. We are—uh—wasting time by not focusing.”
I think this might be the first time I have nothing to say. I’m fresh out of witty comebacks and acting like I don’t give a fuck. I do have lots of fucks to give. So freaking many where Lucas Dawson is concerned.
“Do you want to be going over that list? Do you—because if you do—why the heck are you…uh—your—your chin literally has er—well…”
Lucas goes absolutely red and swipes a hand over his chin. I nearly come again from watching him do it. God. If only he knew I’ve literally wanted to do that with him for the better part of half my life. Maybe not since I was fourteen when I first saw him, but well, maybe at sixteen when I figured out what certain things were. Not that I tried them. I didn’t. I don’t even want to talk about the night I lost my virginity. Or any other sex I’ve had after. None of it mattered. None of it matters.
Only this matters.
Only. This.
Because this, this was perfect. This was the first time that what happened scared me. Now that I’ve kissed Lucas, now that I’ve touched him, now that I’ve had the hard planes of his body pressed against mine, heard his breaths and groans of desire and loss of control…I’m afraid I’m going to be ruined. No. I already know I’m going to be ruined. Ruined for everyone else. Ruined for life. This. This was always my dream. He was always my dream. He was the only man I’ve ever wanted.
I don’t know where to go from here.
I just know if we pick up the folder and act like nothing happened, nothing ever will. I can’t let Lucas do this. Retreat back into that shadow of non-existence. At least when he disliked me, that was something. It was him denying he secretly didn’t hate me at all. But this? The uncertainty and regret stealing over him?
I can’t let him go there.
I will not be a regret. I will not allow him to regret the most beautiful, wondrous, and amazing moment of my life.
I know he’s starting to think about all the wrong things.
The fact that we work together. The fact that I’m paying him for a job, so that kind of makes me his temporary boss. Cassie. Fuck, he’s thinking about Cassie.
I’m thinking about her too. I have no idea how she isn’t going to see this as a betrayal, but I’m also sure I can convince her that me and Lucas being me and Lucas isn’t a bad thing. I don’t want to think about all the what if’s and all the things that could go wrong. I just want…I want to feel. I want to be alive. I want to give all the wrecked parts and all the good parts, in trust, to the one person who I’ve watched and wanted and cared about from afar for my entire adult life.
“Lucas?” I realize I’m sitting here thinking, having one hell of a minute, a private minute, all by myself. I’m not saying anything. I’m not doing anything.
“Shit,” he breathes. He refuses to look at me. He studies the coffee table instead. “This is bad.”
“Why? You mean? Like—I was bad?”
“No. No, you were not bad. That is not what I’m talking about. Don’t misunderstand me on purpose. You know we shouldn’t have done that.”
“Why not? We’re both adults. We have our own lives. It’s not—it’s not a crime to—to enjoy each other. We both wanted it. Maybe we’ve both wanted it for a while.”
Lucas’s head whips back around. “Now that is definitely way too far.”
“Is it? Sorry, I shouldn’t make assumptions. But if you’re going to tell me you didn’t enjoy that, then I know you’re a liar.”
“I didn’t enjoy it. At least, not as much as you did.”
“That can be fixed.” I wink at him after. Not coy. Not shy. Not teasing. That wink is a promise.
“Don’t say that. We are not going there. Clothes on, remember? Where the hell did my shirt go?” He’s not really looking for it, though. He looks sullen like he very much wants to take his clothes off, but that would come with a big heaping price tag in the form of a giant, scalding hot mess.
“Well, as long as I have all my clothes on, and you have yours mostly on…”
“We’re sitting on what is probably a ten-thousand-dollar couch.”
“Twelve, sweetheart. It came from Italy. That’s not the point. It’s leather. It will wash off. Or we could—there’s a shower down the hall…”
“Christ,” Lucas groans. He throws back his head. “We are not—I am not—that shower is not-”
“Maybe you should tell me what is. It might be a shorter list.” I tug down my dress, arrange my legs into a more artful position—although I guess art is terribly suggestive—and turn my face back to Lucas.
“There are a thousand reasons why we shouldn’t have done that.”
“Like I said. Maybe start with the list of should’s then.”
“There are no should’s. There is no list of pros. There is nothing on that list.”
“No? Well, there was for me. You give really good orgasms, Lucas. I think that was the hardest I’ve ever come in my life.”
“Don’t say that!” Lucas jumps off the couch like I literally just banked a fire, arranged it all on his lap, threw gas on top, and lit a match.
“You have a gorgeous chest. Thanks for showing it to me. Your ears tasted good. Your lips were divine. I like your nipples too. They’re perfectly shaped. And your abs! God. For an old fart, you’re seriously in shape.”
“Old?! I’m thirty-fucking-five.”
“Well, for thirty-fucking-five, you look pretty hot.”
“I am not having this conversation now.” Lucas storms over to the side of the coffee table, picks his shirt off the floor, and hurries to put it on.
“Do you want to have it later, then? In the shower, maybe?”
“It doesn’t matter what I want!” Lucas’s shoulders heave with the force of his breath and his denial.
“So, you do want this, then?”
“I’m not saying that.”
“But you’re not not saying it either.”
“Argh!” Lucas throws up his hands. “Do you always have to be this impossible?! Now I know why they call you Impossibella Watson!”
I freeze. Impossibella? My name is Arabella. Arabella Watson. I hate it, mostly because I generally hate all things connected with the choices my parents made. They named me. I wanted to reinvent myself. Give myself something they couldn’t give me or take away from me. Something that mattered to me. Aria. It’s what I’ve called myself since I was eight years old.
I hadn’t been packed off to boarding school or summer camps yet. I had a nanny or a babysitter or whatever. An elderly woman who was way too sweet to get saddled with the bratty version of me at that age. I was never an easy child. I regret how I acted, at least in regards to Nina, because she was truly a nice lady.
It was July. My mom was actually at the house for a change. I thought I could make her spend time with me. Make her do something. Make her want me. Make her see me. Make her love me. I don’t know what I thought. It was stupid. I gave Nina the slip, and while she was trying to find me, I barged into my mom’s room.
I barged in only to find her in a very compromising position with not one, but two naked guys. Even at eight years old, I knew they were like, half her age. She was almost forty, and they were probably twenty. One was the guy who changed the filters in the pool. The othe
r was a guy who came every afternoon to putter around the yard, making sure the flower beds were cleaned up and the sprinklers on the lawn were working.
It was that day I made the decision that I would no longer rely on my parents for anything. Not a single thing. I had to be somewhat dependent on them as a minor, as a kid, but I wouldn’t ask them for anything. I wouldn’t expect them to give me anything in the way of normal parents. I wouldn’t ask them for affection. For emotion. For nurturing. For care. For love. I would never ask them to see me. I didn’t want them to see me. That day, my mother surrendered all rights to me as a mother, in my mind. For good. The truth was, I never mattered to her. Never. Not once. There was never a day she’d told me she loved me or hugged me or asked about me. That day, I made it official.
“I—shit. That just…slipped out. I didn’t mean that.” Lucas tries to back-peddle. I can tell he’s sorry, but it’s too late. My stomach drops into my toes, and I stand slowly. I press my dress down, composing myself.
“Who calls me that? Where would you have heard that?” Surprisingly, my voice doesn’t sound murderously angry.
“I—no one. I just made it up. It seemed to fit. I’m sorry. It was rude. You’re stubborn. That’s all. I kind of grudgingly respect you for it. You’re tenacious. You don’t give up. You’re even a little…intimidating. Like right now…”
“Who?” This time, I sound a little stabby.
“No one. I swear it.”
“Who!”
“No one! Let’s just look at the folders, okay. This never happened. It’s never going to happen again. We were both just at a low point and—well—emotions happened. They’re confusing. We were just confused.”
“I don’t usually mistake being horny for being confused. Is it something that usually happens to you, Lucas?” The fake sweetness in my voice could outdo a damn sugar factory.
He winces, but wisely stays silent.
“You know, Lucas…” I need to stop. I need to shut this shit down right now, but I can’t. I can’t stop. It’s like something terrible has been unlocked inside me, and I just can’t stop it from pouring out. “I’ve wanted that for a long time. I’ll admit it. I’ve had a crush on you since I was fourteen. You. You were always the guy I wanted. The one guy I could never have. That’s not why I wanted you, though. Not because I wanted to attain the unattainable or screw over my best friend or anything like that. I’m not as evil as everyone says I am. I might not even be evil at all. Despite it all, I have feelings. I have a heart. That heart? I think it always beats for you. You weren’t my first, but I wish you were. You weren’t my anything at all, but every single date I ever had, every…every relationship—I wished it was you.
“I wasn’t obsessed. I knew you’d never want me. I knew you’d never see me. I knew you were off-limits, and not just because you’re my best friend’s brother. I don’t know what the hell ever possessed me to try and ask you to help me. I really thought you could. It wasn’t entirely altruistic on my part, or just about the job. You were the first person I thought of, though, and that says something, I guess.”
“I wanted it to be about the job. About the company. It really was. But I also wanted to be near you. Just for a few days. To be near you. If that was all I’d ever get, maybe it would have been enough to help me just move the hell on. And this. Whatever just happened here, it might have been a mistake. It might not. But I can tell you wanted it. You wanted me too. I did not imagine it. You want me now, as badly as I want you, and we’re never going to do anything about it because you don’t hate me. You don’t hate me at all. You’re a great actor, I’ll give you that, but you’re also a massive coward. So, no. I don’t want you to say anything. I don’t want you to keep looking at me like that. I don’t want to go over the folders. I just want you to leave.”
“Aria…”
“It’s Impossibella, remember?”
“Don’t do that—”
“Do what?” I know I’m scary right now. I probably look every bit like a pissed off dragon who just stubbed its toe in a bucket of nails and whacked its already pissed off head on some rocks just to get a little more pissed off.
“This. Please. Just sit down. I didn’t know…”
“That’s fine. I’m telling you this because you’re fired. I don’t need your help anymore. Thanks for the list. I’ll make my decisions from here on. Don’t worry. What happened, this mistake, it won’t get out. I might be impossible, but I’m not a tattler.”
“I think we should talk this out.” Lucas’s eyes dance over my face. I let them linger there. We stare at each other without looking away, so openly, that for a second, I think he’ll see the true level of anger, anger and pain, but mostly pain, that I feel, but of course, he doesn’t.
He can’t.
I don’t even understand it. I don’t know why I just said all of that stuff. It was more truthful and transparent than I’ve been in years. With anyone.
Lucas’s expression changes. Something shifts. His eyes flicker. He feels something. Something he doesn’t want me to know about. Or maybe it’s just gas. Yes, gas bubbles. I’ll have to go with that because even though he looks like he wants to say something, he doesn’t.
“Please just go. I think we’ve said enough. If you stay, I’m going to say things that are far too damaging for anyone to hear.” Not that I haven’t already. I’m like that oil tanker that was chugging along just fine until suddenly, I wasn’t, and now, I’ve spilled toxic waste and oil and nasty stuff everywhere, and there isn’t any hope of ever cleaning it up. What’s done is done. I can’t take back that nasty oil spill. I can’t begin to mop it up. The only thing I can do is save Lucas. I need to stew in my own mess alone.
Lucas’s eyes swivel to the folder. Back to me. To the folder. Back to me. “I still think you need help.”
“Nope. I’m good. I’ll have the money transferred to whatever account you choose. Just send me the details in an email, please.”
“I don’t need the money.”
“You clearly do. You have dreams too. Big, honorable, noble dreams.”
Lucas tenses. “Are you mocking me?” His eyes flash, but he’s not pissed off. He’s hurt.
“No.” I mean it. I’m not. Not one bit. I could never mock him. Make fun of his dreams. Hurt him intentionally. I could never wound him like that. Even if I hated Lucas, I could never, ever do that to him. “I’m being serious. You need the money. I don’t.”
“I can’t just take your money! I didn’t do anything!”
“That’s not true. You gave me one very, very good orgasm.”
“Aria!” Lucas’s eyes flash dangerously.
Okay, that was a low blow. I’ll admit it. “Consider it an investment then. If you won’t take the money outright, then take it from an investor who believes in you. If you really want this, you should go for it. I think you’ll make a difference in the world and in people’s lives.”
“Why are you being… nice to me? You don’t have to do that.”
“I know. But you know why. Can you please just go before I die of humiliation on the spot? Please?”
Lucas studies me with narrowed eyes. I can tell he doesn’t want to, but I can also tell he’s going to. And I’m right. He grabs up his stuff, leaves the folder, and shows himself out.
Once the door clicks shut, I realize I have two choices.
I can either give up completely and have a breakdown for real, bemoaning my mistakes and giving in to self-pity—I can bemoan the fact that Lucas Best Orgasm Of My Life Dawson is never going to be in my life, never going to give me another orgasm, never going to give me anything at all after I just very embarrassingly and horrifyingly poured out my soul to him in a moment of complete idiocy and utter weakness—or I can prove to everyone that I can do this.
No. Not to everyone. Despite what I vowed when I was eight—that I’d make it alone, that I didn’t need my parents or anyone else, I’ve been trying my whole life to either get people to see me or not s
ee me. I’ve invented this version of myself that I thought I needed to show to the entire world. I thought I needed to be tough, or at least, that’s how I needed everyone to see me. As ruthless, mean, bitchy, snobby, bratty, flippant, careless—anything but who I really am.
It’s time to put on my big girl panties and do this as me.
The real me. Even if it takes a while to figure out what that truly means.
CHAPTER 11
Aria
Rin, the other point in our BFF triangle, happens to be engaged to a model. It’s a long story. You know the part where I mentioned Rin’s mom went off to the Caymans and left Rin running the fashion empire that Rin was never really interested in? I guess that’s part of it. Rin worked her ass off doing something she hated. She wanted to be a journalist. Instead, she designed haute couture for a living. Rin also dated a string of assholes. One particular asshole said some pretty mean things to Rin and then got himself a nineteen-year-old model girlfriend. I convinced Rin to strike back. An eye for an eye, a model for a model. Long story short, she’s now engaged to said model.
She and Aiden moved to Colorado. I respect the hell out of Rin for the changes she’s made to her life to be happy. Cassie and I visit as often as we possibly can.
It just so happened we had a girl’s night coming up. And by night, I actually mean a weekend, because yeah. We don’t fly to the ends of the earth for nothing.
I’m kidding. Kind of. Rin’s place is nice. It’s a three-bedroom modest log cabin that still has modern trappings like indoor plumbing and running water. Thank God. I have to admit I’m not made for roughing it. I don’t know if I could visit otherwise. They live just outside Denver. It’s not like it’s a breezy little walk to drop a deuce in the corner store at the end of the block if you have to go.
“Where the heck is Aiden?” I drop down unceremoniously onto Rin’s leather couch.
They have that nice homey cottagey vibe around the place. Minimal furniture. Leather. Cozy woven rugs on the wood floorboards. Oil paintings on the walls. Antiques everywhere. There are weird saws on the walls too. I think those might have come with the place unless she and Aiden are into some really weird roleplaying fantasies involving weapons.
