Like You (Perfectly Flawed #1)

by Dunning, Rachel

  I laugh.

  "But I did finish high school. Eventually. Online. I even did a bit of college." He pauses. "Zoey convinced me to."

  "Wow." I decide not to comment on what an influence she must have been on his life.

  "Yeah, I think I'm gonna finish it."

  "What?"

  "The college course I was doing."

  "What were you majoring in?"

  "Language studies."

  "Language studies?"

  "Yeah. You can do it module by module at the college I signed up with. So I was doing Italian as a start."

  "You speak Italian?"

  "Not enough for the major, but enough to go on a vacation and talk to the locals. Or to order a slice of pizza."

  "But German you spoke at home, right?"

  "No, didn't speak a word of it when I arrived here. I picked it up on my own."

  "On your own."

  "On my own."

  "Wow."

  "I'm wowing you a lot, aren't I?"

  I shake my head, amazed. "How exactly do you pick up German 'on your own'?"

  "You buy language CD's, you study the grammar. I don't know. It's a knack I have. I speak a bit of French as well."

  "Wow."

  "I like the wows."

  "I'm officially wowed."

  "But, til I find a use for it, it's like telling people you can touch your nose with your tongue. I mean, fixing a hole in a roof results in cash whether you can say thank you in Italian, French or German. And when you're up on someone's roof, and then fall, ouch means ouch no matter what language you say it in."

  I snicker. "You've fallen off a roof before?"

  "Plenty of times."

  I look down at our empty plates and wish we could spend all day talking here. "I'm really happy about our not-asshole-not-cow likingship thing we have going on."

  "Likingship?"

  "Yeah."

  "Likingship," he repeats. "Good word. Not so scary."

  "Not so scary at all."

  "Now, just for your information, I've always been a one woman guy."

  I say nothing.

  "You don't believe me?"

  I stumble at first. "N—Yes. I mean... No, it's not that hard to believe. I guess."

  "If I'm with a girl, I'm with her only. I just haven't been 'with' a girl for more than a night for some years now."

  "So you're 'with' me now?"

  "I am. Big step for me. But not a relationship."

  "A likingship."

  "Precisely."

  "Sure you can't come to Berlin with me?"

  "I can, but I won't. In fact, I don't even think I should see you the next three weeks."

  My heart drops.

  He notices. "Relax! It's just because..."

  "You're afraid you'll jump me?"

  He whistles. "So afraid."

  We get up and Axle starts putting the crates away.

  "No," I say, "leave them. Maybe we could have dinner tonight?"

  "Sure. You taking more shots today?"

  "No, I have all the shots I need. I need to put the portfolio together now. I have several thousand photos I need to go through. I'm hoping I don't have to touch any up. You?"

  "Oh, I get to hunt Frankfurt for all my past sins and get slapped in the face some more. I'm also gonna call that doc and find out when is the earliest I can be absolutely sure I'm in the clear."

  "You got slapped in the face yesterday?"

  "Several times."

  I move closer, wrap my arms around his shoulders, look up at him. He hides the worry in his eyes well.

  "I can't wait to kiss you again," I whisper. "And if you're not in the clear, I'm going to kiss you anyway."

  "Bad idea."

  I get on my tiptoes and just graze his dry lips with my own. Slowly I feel him bulging as he presses against me. "No, it's not a bad idea."

  I want to tell him more. I want to tell him that I, too, had nothing to live for not too long ago. I want to tell him that sometimes you need to find something to die for and that's actually the thing you start living for.

  But these are not things you say to someone in a likingship. They're things you tell someone in a relationship.

  And we're not there yet. Even though it sort of feels like we are.

  CHAPTER 29

  -1-

  G.

  Nov. 15, 2013 — Friday, later

  I spend the rest of the day going through the myriad photos. I'm looking for the "OMG!" shots. One of each. That means that even though I might have a thousand of Karolin and Thomas in the bedroom, I really only need the best one. Two at the most.

  I short-list each subject into about a hundred shots each.

  Great, so that's still over a thousand shots in total.

  I start with the easiest: The female gay couple near the park. They looked sweet, I remember. They were dressed casually, looked a little like liberals. Baggy pants, loose sweaters, a beanie. A scarf.

  An embrace.

  I see one where the taller of the two is smiling and her eyes are a little closed. Her girlfriend is looking away, smiling as well. Her eyes are also almost closed.

  I play with the light a bit, soften it up.

  Love, I think to myself.

  And that's what the photo says to me.

  I take it!

  "OK, one down, who knows how many more to go."

  I decided already that less is more. One knockout punch is better than a hundred noodle punches.

  I move onto the Red Light shots. They say nothing about love. They say the opposite.

  No, they don't say that, either.

  What do they say?

  I see a candid shot I took of Thomas in the bedroom. He's getting ready for a pose but he looks tired. I had kept firing away. Karolin is next to him. Standing. She's looking at the Euros in her hands. I remember she thought there was some mud on the corner of one so she's looking at the money suspiciously.

  Thomas is on the bed, looking down. There's a rolled-up whip on it next to him. She's donned in a three-piece suit, counting her money like she owns him. He looks defeated.

  Defeated, right. And that's the message of the Red Light District to me, and the girls who work there. They've lost faith in themselves. They think they can't go higher or that it's too late.

  I take it as well!

  My favorites are those of Karolin and Thomas in the bedroom. There are too many good ones to choose from. But I don't want The Hunter to think I'm desperate and that I'm trying to show her everything I have in the hopes she might maybe possibly hopefully like at least one of them. If I understood Brooke right, The Hunter's a go-getter. She likes confident people.

  And even if I'm not generally a confident person, I have to sell myself as one. So I need to choose only a few.

  I take the pizza shot where he's licking a mushroom off her breast. She's laughing. She's looking up just at the right moment, her eyes closed, her mouth partly open with the faintest of smiles on it. She looks almost embarrassed. But it's not embarrassment. It's joy.

  I take one where I caught a slice of pizza midair! Thomas is turning, smiling, not a care in the world—except for the pizza slice that's about to hit his head!

  I take the one where he sits behind her and feeds her a slice.

  I take the one of her alone on the bed, her cellulite just slightly visible. It looks beautifully human. Natural. Her face is a little blurry from the long focal length. The face is not the important part in this shot. It's her body.

  Marilyn Monroe, I think.

  The message in this one is happiness and beauty. Because she is happy, and she is beautiful.

  I can't wait to show them to her. To both of them.

  There's a stylish shot of Karolin on the rooftop. There's a sheet by her waist, just covering her private parts. She's bending forward and her hands are on her knees. Her arms cover her nipples and just a hint of her areolae are visible behind her biceps. It looks elegant.

  I remember
the moment. She'd been cold and trying to warm up. Her shoulders are slightly hunched. She's laughing. And that's the clincher of the shot: The laugh.

  A sweet laugh.

  Karolin is the star of this shoot. I can't wait to do her own portfolio for her.

  I take this one.

  I also pick a shot of a man in a suit looking at the Financial Times before the sun is up. He's bringing a cup of coffee to his lips and coffee steam billows up into his face, hiding it slightly because of the high contrast. In his other hand he holds and reads the paper. He looks worried. It looks almost like the second Depression. The suit makes him look powerful and in control. But it also looks like he's been defeated by that tiny paper in his hand. Defeated by the news it brings. I like the touch of the coffee-steam, almost as if it makes it all look ethereal. Like it could all be taken away in a puff of smoke with one crash or one bad deal.

  I take the candid shot of Thomas in the cage where he's stretching his hand out from behind it and Karolin is finding something really funny. In the image, it looks like she's laughing at him!

  Classic.

  I caught that one just at the right time. Not a fraction too late or too early. I remember my professor once making a joke about chimping—looking at the display of your camera after every shot instead of constantly looking at the scene and just taking the photographs.

  I remember spotting that moment when they thought I wasn't shooting.

  I pick the rabbit shot in that Frankfurt construction site.

  I pick a few more, and then I'm done.

  I look outside and wonder when the sun went down.

  I haven't eaten since breakfast. If Axle hadn't made it for me, I would not have eaten all day.

  My eyes are burning from staring at the screen all this time. I haven't even put the light on in here. I can't look at another photo.

  I put my head down on the desk.

  I fall asleep.

  -2-

  The bang at the gallery door wakes me up with a start. I'm delirious for a second and realize I was dreaming. Having a nightmare where someone was chasing me down a corridor with water puddles in it and I'd been running in the puddles and all I could hear was my breath echoing from the walls. And my footsteps.

  The bang occurs again. I rub my eyes and realize where I am.

  It's Axle. And he has food. I can smell it wafting in from the mail slot that he's currently holding up and looking at me from.

  I start laughing.

  "I'll bet that desk is more comfortable than that damned mattress."

  I try think of something witty to say in return but I'm too groggy to come up with anything.

  I get up and let him in.

  My mouth waters at the thing he's holding in his hand that smells of meat and veggies and sauce and is steaming up all into my face.

  "It's a doener kebab. Turkish. Meat from a spit served in a flatbread with lots of vegetables. Unhealthy as shit. Tasty, though."

  He's still talking when the kebab is already in my mouth.

  "And here I thought we were gonna pop open a bottle of wine before we ate this fine meal," he says.

  "You brought wine?" I say with a full mouth. I wipe some of the sauce dripping from the corner of it. A shredded piece of lettuce falls to the floor and I pick it up. "Sorry, I'm just so hungry." I clean the smudge it made on the floor, suddenly nervous of what The Hunter might say if she found me eating in here.

  "I can see that. Um, Gen, you need to get up from there. You bending down is putting images in my mind that I shouldn't be having right now."

  I get up and we move to the "table" he made for us earlier.

  "I chose the one without garlic sauce. FYI."

  "Good idea. Just in case we kiss, right?"

  "Har har. Moving on. I didn't bring wine. I'm not the wine type. So, you done working for today?"

  "I think I've got all the photos. I need to print them tomorrow and then put them in a little book thingy that looks fancy and professional."

  "And then?"

  I wipe my fingers of sauce. "And then...it's make or break. If I don't make it with her, I don't know... I'll probably get a job at McDonalds or something."

  He cocks an eyebrow. "You could do better than McDonalds. Burger King is also hiring."

  I throw a shredded lettuce piece at him.

  "So, you have no more work for today," he says.

  "Well, I should maybe look— Oh, who am I kidding? I can hardly see this table. I can't look at photos anymore."

  "So, no more work?"

  "Not even if I wanted to."

  He stands, moves around the crates and holds a hand out to me. He helps me up and before I know it his lips are on my neck and my body feels like syrup, warm and dripping.

  Then hot.

  My skin lights up and he eases his hands around my waist, down to my skirt. He lifts it. He kisses me down my neckline, toward my shoulder. My breasts engorge and tighten. The insides of my crotch clamp down.

  I need him.

  I want him.

  He moves me to a wall and presses against me. He unclasps my bra under my top. I whimper briefly. He stops. "Too fast?" he says.

  "Not fast enough."

  He cups my right breast with his rough hand and fondles it. I want to let him take the top off. I imagine him burying that breast in his mouth. I want him licking it, kissing it...

  But, not yet.

  By instinct, I sway my crotch toward him.

  I take his shirt off. I move my lips onto his chest and bite gently into his nipple. He groans with pleasure and pain.

  I start rubbing his crotch above his jeans.

  He pushes me harder against the wall. Holds me there firmly with one massive hand. He stares me in the eyes while his other hand pushes my panties down to my knees. He's bending to get them down but never letting his eyes drift away from my own.

  He stands again, his gaze still locked.

  I'm moist as hell. He puts his middle finger in me and an animalistic sound comes out of me. He pushes down against me.

  The backs of my legs seize up.

  I start to gasp. I start to breathe faster. He speeds up. He pumps me with his hand and my sounds are loud and earthy and strong and—

  I'm adrift. Somewhere else. The pleasure consumes me and my body wrenches and twists without my control.

  In the end, I remember waves and pulses and excruciating joy as he slams and pushes and presses into me.

  And now, I relax.

  I completely relax. My ear is on his naked chest, listening to the thud thump thud of his relentless heart.

  And what a glorious heart it is.

  I start to rub him again but he moves my hand away and puts it on his back. "Tonight it's just you," he whispers.

  I'm wasted, exhausted. Almost sleeping on him even though I'm still standing.

  Before I know it, I'm dangling from his arms. He's lifted me and is carrying me.

  I hear scratches on the back door.

  "Can you feed the cat?" I say.

  "I'll do it if you sleep with me tonight?"

  I'm groggy. So wiped out from the pressure and the work. "Huh?"

  "I said I'll do it if you sleep with me tonight. Snoring and all. Will you?"

  "Yes," I whisper. "I'll snore with you tonight."

  I put my arms around his neck and feel myself rock as we continue to climb up the stairs.

  The next thing I remember, I'm awake.

  And it's morning.

  CHAPTER 30

  -1-

  G.

  Nov. 16, 2013 — Saturday Morning

  First there's panic. Axle is not here again. Then there's relief. Because he's never here in the morning. I sniff the air and smell coffee.

  Fresh.

  I get up smiling. "Axle?" I call out. Only I hear nothing in return.

  I walk to the bathroom. While brushing my teeth I ask myself where this is going. Axle is the polar opposite of what I'd expect to fall for.
>
  He hasn't even tried to be charming. He's rough and ragged. What you see is what you get.

  Actually, what you see is not what you get. He looks mean, he looks tough and rough. But he's kind. And he's broken. Shattered.

  Like me.

  On the way back to Brooke's hole-in-the-wall-room I quickly look down the stairs and still don't see or hear him. I take a deep whiff of coffee in the air, but I don't smell bacon today.

  Maybe he's out getting it?

  I get dressed and walk down. There's a note on the counter.

  ** NOT LOADED **

  Hey Gen,

  Got a call this morning before the sun came up. Someone fell through a roof or a roof fell on someone's head or there's no roof to begin with, or whatever. Either way, it's an emergency and I need the dough so I'll be working all day.

  There's bacon in the fridge. I didn't make it because I didn't know what time you'd wake up. Notice the thermos flask? Coffee's in there. Warm.

  Burger tonight before you leave?

  Like you,

  Ax

  I open the thermos flask and pour the coffee.

  Damn, this man has no idea how coffee turns me into Jell-O.

  After taking a few sips I hold his note in my hand. I feel a sinking sensation in the bottom of my stomach. The paper trembles.

  I hold it more firmly.

  Nerves, I tell myself. It's just nerves.

  But I did allow myself to get caught up quicker than I'd expected.

  Emily...

  I struggle to think her name.

  I force myself.

  Emily passed only three months ago. He died only three months ago.

  I'm not ready to be with someone.

  I'm not.

  I sip more coffee.

  The argument continues in my mind and I decide that the easiest thing for me to do is to bury myself in work. This is no relationship with Axle. It's a likingship...

  I can do a likingship.

  I remember us coming up with the word and it makes me simultaneously warm by my chest and cold, also, at the pit of my stomach. And there is that sinking feeling again.

  I ignore it.

  -2-

  I go to the main train station to buy my ticket for Berlin tomorrow. On the way there I pass just by the Red Light District. It's impossible not to.