Chronicles of a Lincoln Park Fashionista

by Aven Ellis

  “Oh my God,” I gasp, my hand instinctively gripping Deke’s on the armrest next to me. “I can’t do this. I want to get off. I—”

  “Avery!”

  I jerk my head to face him. And the next thing I know, Deke is pressing his lips against mine.

  Chapter 16

  Deke’s lips gently press against mine in an innocent kiss. I abruptly shift gears from sheer panic to total shock.

  Deke kissed me.

  He lifts his head up for a second. While I know the plane is lifting up into the air, I also know I miss the feeling of his warm, soft lips against mine. My eyes instinctively flutter open, wanting more than a sweet kiss from him.

  “Deacon,” I whisper without thinking.

  And then his mouth is back on mine. But this time, he eases mine open in a searching kiss. Deke’s mouth is exploring mine in a sexy, sensual way. And his kiss is very, very hot. Suddenly I’m lost in a warm, dizzying feeling that is sweeping me from head to toe.

  My body is now hyper-aware of every sensation I’m feeling. I feel Deke’s stubble lightly scratch against my face as he kisses me. I smell the same citrus cologne he wore on the night we danced to Sinatra in Lincoln Park on his skin. His hand has made its way to the back of my head, cradling it, his fingers tangling in my hair in a way that gives me goose bumps.

  Deke’s kiss intensifies, and my pulse races in response. Shit, where did he learn to kiss like this? I instinctively move closer to him, wanting more, needing more of him. I’m pressed up against the armrest, which is keeping me from getting any closer. I put my hand on his crisp white cotton shirt, content to feel his chest through the fabric as I eagerly kiss him back.

  Deke’s chest is hard and solid underneath the fabric of his dress shirt. Now that I know what that feels like, I move my hand up to his hair to continue my exploration of him. It’s silky and soft and slides right through my fin—

  Suddenly he breaks the kiss. My eyes blink open in surprise, and I breathlessly look back at him, wondering why he stopped. Deke pauses, takes a breath of air, and then smiles at me.

  “You’re flying,” he says simply.

  “Huh?” I ask, confused. My brain hasn’t shifted gears to conversation.

  Because I still want to be kissing him.

  Deke nods toward the window next to me.

  “Take a look, Avery. You’re flying.”

  I turn and glance out of the window. And to my shock, I see the sun shining and big, puffy clouds around us.

  “I’m really flying?” I ask, stunned. I gaze out the window, hardly believing that we’re really airborne. To my total surprise, I don’t feel panicked. I’m not nauseated or sweating or about to pass out in fear. I’m actually flying, and I’m okay, much to my astonishment.

  “Yeah, you are,” Deke says quietly.

  I turn and look at him in amazement. Then he clears his throat.

  “Sorry about the kiss, Avery,” he says softly.

  My heart instantly stops beating. “Sorry?”

  Deke rakes a hand through his hair. “I . . . I thought it might be a way to distract you on takeoff. I apologize for being so forward. It won’t happen again, I promise.”

  I stare at him, my brain slowly comprehending what it doesn’t want to comprehend.

  This kiss was nothing more than a distraction. My heart drops all the way to my stomach, landing with a hard thud that feels like someone just punched me.

  Deke didn’t kiss me because he wanted to. He kissed me as a way to get my mind refocused so I could fly to San Francisco. And while this kiss meant everything to me, it was simply an acting job for Deke.

  It meant nothing to him.

  He only kissed me so he could do his job.

  Suddenly I want to cry. Do not cry, I will myself, drawing in a deep breath of air. That is what a sixteen-year-old-girl does after a boy kisses her and never calls. This isn’t what a grown-up, career woman does when the man kisses her and doesn’t really mean it. I need to be cool. Calm. Act as if I don’t care.

  “Avery?” Deke asks, concern in his voice. “Can you please forgive me?”

  I force myself to meet his eyes. “Right. A distraction,” I say slowly, forcing myself to hear the words again. “Of course. That makes perfect sense. After all, Isabel might be really upset if that was actually for real.”

  Deke’s facial expression completely changes. If I didn’t know better, he appears pained by my words. But how can that be? Deke’s the one seeing Isabel. He’s the one who has called this kiss a distraction.

  “Right,” Deke says softly, shifting his eyes to the seatback in front of him.

  Alrighty then. Now that we’ve got the reason for the kiss all squared away, there is nothing but a painful, awkward silence between us. I put my hand on my forehead, as I’m suddenly exhausted by the range of emotions I’ve just experienced within the past hour.

  “You okay?” he asks.

  I don’t even glance at him, as the truth of the kiss is still too hurtful and embarrassing for me to deal with. “I just feel tired,” I say honestly.

  “Do you want some Advil?” Deke asks, sliding out his backpack from underneath the seat in front of him. “Benadryl will knock you out if you want to sleep for a couple of hours.”

  I watch as he takes out multiple packs of medications from his backpack.

  “Why do you have all of that?” I ask, honestly wanting to know.

  “When you travel a lot, you want to be prepared for anything,” Deke explains. “So do you want something?”

  Suddenly I decide sleep is an extremely appealing idea. I won’t be aware of reality while I’m sleeping, which right now, is the most ideal state to exist in.

  I pick up the Benadryl and take out my bottled water. I grab some pills, swallow some water, and then turn toward the window, resting my head on the seatback away from Deke, and close my eyes to hopefully fall asleep.

  Mmmm. I wake up in the morning, all tangled in high-thread count white sheets, with Deke next to me in bed. We’ve made love the night before, and it was the most passionate sex I’ve ever had. Deke is the first guy I’ve slept with who actually gets the concept of foreplay, and it was more than hot.

  Deke is getting up out of bed, and I watch him move. He’s DDG naked, by the way. I grin as I watch him slip into the hotel robe and walk over to the in-room coffee maker.

  “Avery?” he asks.

  “Mmmmm?” I murmur, still wanting to cocoon in this delicious hotel bed. Just a few minutes ago I was snuggling with my head on his sculpted chest, before he got up.

  “Avery, wake up. We’ve landed.”

  I groggily come out of my sleep and lift one eyelid open. I’m on an airplane, not in a luxurious hotel bed. My head is on Deke’s chest, but we haven’t made love in a hotel room.

  I instantly jerk up. Oh my God, I’ve just had a sex dream while I was sleeping on his chest? And I’m notorious for talking in my sleep.

  Shit. Shit. Shit!

  “Um, did I say anything?” I ask, praying I didn’t.

  Deke grins at me. “What would you say in your sleep?”

  I feel my face turn red. “I don’t know.”

  I look away from him, praying I kept my mouth shut, and watch as everyone stands up and removes bags out of overhead bins. Oh please, oh please, oh please, let this have been a silent dream. I’ll die if I said something sexual to him in my sleep. I’ll absolutely die.

  “You didn’t say anything,” Deke says. “You ‘mmmm’d a couple of times, but that was all. And you slept through dinner service and landing.”

  I breathe a sigh of relief. Thank God, I think.

  But then I see his shirt, and I notice that I’ve left behind a big drool spot and a swipe of my pink Chanel lip-gloss.


  “Oh, crap,” I say. “Your shirt.”

  He glances down at the stain and drool spot and then looks back at me, lifting an eyebrow. My face starts flaming with embarrassment all over again.

  “Hmmm. I never thought you’d be a drooler, Fashionista.”

  “I’m not,” I exclaim, mortified. “I . . . I must have been really tired, that’s all.”

  “Of course,” Deke says, grinning at me as he stands up.

  “I’m sorry. I’ll pay to have it dry cleaned,” I say quickly.

  “Nah. I might keep it as proof that you do drool.”

  “Deacon,” I say, exasperated. “I really don’t drool.”

  Except when I’m having a sexual dream about you, I add to myself. Then it hits me. Oh, shit. Even in my sleep, I’m drooling over Deke Ryan.

  And yet he’s not interested in me at all.

  I mull that thought over in my head as we wait for our turn to leave the aircraft. As we grab our bags and head off the airplane and into the San Francisco Airport, the significance of the moment hits me.

  I’ve actually flown somewhere.

  Despite how afraid I was, I sat on that airplane and didn’t get off. Okay, so being distracted by a kiss certainly helped, but I did it. I’m actually in San Francisco.

  I stop dead in my tracks, taking in the sights and sounds around me. And I burst out laughing in complete joy.

  Deke stops walking and stares at me. “Avery?”

  “Isn’t this fantastic?” I declare, energy surging through me. “I’m in San Francisco. I’ve flown somewhere.”

  “You did,” he says, smiling at me. “You’re really brave.”

  I furrow my brow. “I wouldn’t say I’m brave. Millions of people fly every day.”

  “No, that’s not what I mean,” he says as we head to baggage claim. “You conquered a fear tonight. Flying isn’t easy for you. You didn’t have to do it. But you dug deep inside yourself, faced your fear head on, and did it. Sometimes people never get over a fear, but you were determined to do it, despite how awful it made you feel. And that’s why I’m proud of you.”

  My throat grows thick from Deke’s words. I swallow hard before speaking. “I couldn’t have done this without your help.”

  “Nah, you still would have done it,” he insists.

  “That’s not true. You helped me face my fear tonight. Thank you for that. I don’t know how I’ll ever repay you.”

  Deke looks at me as we get on an escalator to go down to baggage claim. “Maybe someday you’ll help me face a fear of my own,” he says quietly, staring into my eyes.

  Once again, a million questions flip through my head with that mysterious comment, but I know him well enough to leave it alone. For now.

  We reach the carousels and wait for our bags. Then we go get the SUV he’s rented and as soon as I’ve strapped the seatbelt around me, I realize I’m in California. On the coast. In San Francisco.

  “I want to see everything,” I blurt out in excitement as Deke backs out of the parking space.

  “Well, maybe after your meetings you’ll have some time to sightsee,” he says as he heads out of the parking lot. “And there’s a lot to see. San Francisco is actually one of my favorite cities in the world, to be honest.”

  I nod excitedly. “I wish I could start tonight. But I guess I’ll just settle for room service and bed so I’m ready to go tomorrow morning.”

  “Are you hungry?” Deke asks.

  “Starving,” I admit, just realizing it. “What did I miss for dinner?”

  “Steak, Cornish game hen, or lobster.”

  Damn. I love all of those. “Was it good?” I ask.

  “I don’t know. I passed.”

  “You passed up dinner?” I ask, incredulous. “Why? Premier Airlines is supposed to have excellent food. Or cuisine, as we say in Marketing.”

  “I didn’t want to wake you up,” Deke says softly.

  Okay, despite the fact that he’s made it clear he has no romantic interest in me, my heart melts from those words.

  “Besides,” he says, continuing, “I can just order room service at the Fairmont when we get in.”

  I nod and turn my attention back to the road. I gaze at the city that looms ahead, and a feeling of excitement sweeps over me. I’m practically breathless with anticipation as we enter San Francisco. My head is swiveling around as I take in all of the buildings. I keep throwing questions at Deke as if he’s my tour guide. Luckily for me, he doesn’t mind answering them.

  Finally he drives us up toward Nob Hill, and I’m amazed by how steep the streets actually are. I watch a cable car pass by and I cry out in delight.

  “I have to ride one of those,” I say happily.

  Deke grins at me. “I’ll shoot you riding a cable car tomorrow after your meetings, how does that sound?”

  “Excellent,” I say, smiling at him. But then my smile stops as I see the Fairmont Hotel straight ahead.

  Oh, wow, it’s beyond beautiful. The hotel majestically sits atop Nob Hill, looking regal and elegant. And I instantly wonder how many stories this old building has to tell. I honestly can’t speak, as I’m so awestruck that I’m going to be staying here.

  He directs the car up to the valet and my door is opened for me. I’m vaguely aware that Deke is talking to a bellhop about our bags, because I’m drawn like a magnet to go inside the hotel and check it out.

  A doorman opens the lobby door for me, and I go inside. I stand still, my jaw dropping as I glance around. Oh. My. God. It’s the most beautiful lobby I’ve ever seen in my life. It’s opulent and lush and I want to go explore the rest of the hotel.

  “Are you ready to check in?” Deke asks, snapping me from my thoughts.

  I nod as I follow him over to the check-in desk. “This hotel is gorgeous.”

  “You’ll have to check out the rooftop garden before you leave,” he says as we approach the desk. “You’d really like that.”

  I add that to my list of things to see. Which, since I’ve landed, has grown to about 346 things.

  We check in and I note that Deke is on the sixth floor while I’m on the fifth, and our bags will be brought up shortly. We go over to the elevators, and I watch as Deke punches the button.

  “Well, I guess I’ll unpack and order something to eat,” I say as we step inside an empty elevator. “I’ll call you tomorrow when I get up so you can do some shooting before the meetings start.”

  Deke studies me as the doors close. I notice he’s shifting his weight from foot to foot, which is something I’ve figured out he does when he’s nervous. But what on earth would he be nervous about?

  Suddenly I wonder if my imagination is working overtime. Or is diluted by the dose of Benadryl I took earlier? I shake the thought from my head, and we ride in silence up to the fifth floor.

  The elevator stops on my floor. I clear my throat and smile at Deke as the doors open.

  “Goodnight,” I say, stepping off the elevator.

  The doors begin to close, but suddenly Deke punches the button to open them.

  “Wait,” he says, quickly stepping off the elevator.

  My heart leaps anxiously as Deke stands before me.

  “Do you really want room service?” Deke asks.

  Now my heart explodes inside my chest.

  “Do you have something else in mind?” I ask quietly.

  “Meet me in the lobby in about an hour,” he says. “And I’ll take you somewhere really cool.”

  “How should I dress?” I ask, keeping my excitement under wraps.

  Deke grins at me. “Dressy would be good, Fashionista.”

  Then he punches the elevator button and steps back inside, leaving me in the hallway.

  And as soon as the do
ors close, I grin broadly to myself. Then I hurry to my room, eager to freshen up, get changed, and see where exactly the mysterious Deke Ryan is taking me tonight.

  Chapter 17

  I carefully smudge my black eyeliner across my lid to create a sexy, smoldering, evening look for my eyes. I put down my eyeliner and mentally run through a check list before heading down to the lobby to meet Deke, just to make sure everything is perfect before I see him:

  Appropriately dressed? Check.

  I stare back at my reflection, taking in the little black cocktail dress I’m wearing. It’s a Robert Rodriguez lace sheath dress I got from Piperlime. I knew spending my summer job money on designer clothing would eventually pay off, and now I have a sexy little dress to wear for a night out with Deke.

  Anyway, I digress. Back to the checklist:

  High-heeled shoes

  I go over to my suitcase and fish out my strappy-heeled shoes. And with the three-inch heels on these shoes, my forehead should just reach the bottom of Deke’s chin when I wear them. I slip into them and go back to the mirror to finish the checklist.

  Applied Sake perfume? Check.

  No lip-gloss on teeth. Check.

  I draw an anxious breath of air, spray my hair one more time, and then grab my clutch bag to go downstairs.

  As I ride the elevator down to the lobby, my spine tingles with anticipation. I’m going out with Deke in San Francisco. And he wanted me to dress up, so it must be somewhere nice. Could it be somewhere romantic? Maybe this is his way of trying to tell me something.

  Oh God. I tap my clutch purse on my forehead, thinking I need to be smacked with a huge dose of reality.

  Hello, Avery, Deke kissed you and told you he didn’t mean it, I remind myself as I close my eyes. He’s with Isabel. He’s only taking you to dinner because you’re his subject. Do not think of him as a romantic object of affection. You’re forbidden to think of him as anything other than your videographer.