by K. L. Jessop
“How was the ride to work?”
“Fine.”
I look at her for a moment, waiting. For what, I don’t know, but I get nothing. Exhaling, I stand from the desk to head out to start work. Knowing how I like my space when I’m not in the best of moods, I leave her for a while and focus on getting the gallery in order. That being said, I still can’t keep my fucking eyes off her.
With the walls now a blank canvas, I’ve pretty much have in mind what I want to do. I don’t particularly want this place to be an auction type gallery where too many people are here at once, but I need to get my name out there and start selling bigger pieces as I can’t always rely on commissioned work. Therefore, after having a chat with Pepper and Emmet, I’ve decided to take up Pepper’s idea and have it as a stop gap for people collecting pieces they’ve ordered via me personally and on the web, and have a few pieces of art ready to sell in the gallery itself. So, when it comes to the walls around me now, there will be an area specifically for canvas and small prints and the rest is mine to play with.
Turning on the stereo to help me focus, I take a pencil and large piece of paper and sit down on the floor and begin to sketch a layout of the gallery and make notes of the ideas I have for designs. All my pieces have a hidden meaning behind them, and the gallery is going to be no different. I want colour, I want curiosity but most importantly I want people to look at them and experience some kind of emotion. Art is a spectrum, and the feelings one person takes away from it will be different from another. I may thrive for the shadows when I’m in a shitty phase, but that doesn’t mean the person standing next to me gets comfort out of it. Everyone is different, and even though my ideas for the wall will be different, they’ll all have a secret link to them. Except for Peppers office. I want to do something in there that resembles her character. I need to figure out what that will be.
Feeling eyes burning into me, I look and catch her blues. She studies me hard, rolling her pen back and forth between her fingers like she’s enticing me towards her. I resist for a moment and hold her penetrating stare until I can’t take any more. The urgency inside takes over and I’m up on my feet, needing her body against me. With each step I take, I keep her captive, desperate to kiss those cherry red lips I’ve not had on me in a while.
She’s not herself today and I don’t like it. Fuck, I don’t even know why but I know I want to take whatever is troubling her away.
“Can I help you with something?” she says as I approach, but I don’t respond to her question. Leaning across her desk, I clasp her chin, tilt her head up and press my lips against hers without a word. I grip her harder as she tries to escape but her protest soon falters, and she parts her lips a fraction for me to slip the tip of my tongue inside.
She tastes of freshwater and everything that drives me wild, and the more I tease my tongue with hers, the more she relaxes.
When the blissful whimper escapes the back of her throat, I know I’ve taken her hostage. Her hands glide up my chest, her blistering touch sending shockwaves across my body as they remove another layer of my undiscovered wounds that lie beneath the surface. She is my refuge. My reckoning. My greatest redemption. But just like that, she pushes me off as if I’ve scarred her.
“Dexter, stop.” She’s out of her seat and stepping away from me, making the wedge that she seems to have put between us even bigger than it already is. I’ve not felt this hurt from rejection in as long as I can remember, and what’s worse is Pepper has hardly done anything that can even classify it as that.
I exhale. “What’s wrong, Blue?”
“Why would there be anything wrong?”
“Because you’ve not been yourself since you walked in this morning.” I have to hold back my smirk when she stands there with her arms folded. I’ve not seen that pose in a while and it surprises me how much I fucking love it.
“I’m not in a good mood. I’m allowed to be in a shitty mood.”
“Wanna talk about it?” She holds my gaze hard, making me question as though I should know what’s wrong—making me feel like I should say something—but I’m all out of ideas here. I’m not all that great when it comes to women and their behaviours.
“No.”
“Well, I can’t help if I don’t know.”
“You wouldn’t help anyway even if you did,” she bites.
God damn this woman.
Choosing not to start the riot that is slowly starting to rise in my chest, I shake my head and stand upright, heading back to where I was working, muttering under my breath. “Women and their damn hormones.”
“Yes, because every time we’re pissed off it clearly means the red river is flowing doesn’t it?” she blurts, making me stop and turn to face her.
“Have you swallowed a wasp this morning because you’re acting like your throat’s been fucking stung.”
“Funny that, don’t you think?”
“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
The more she acts this way, the more infuriated I’m getting. I’m trying really fucking hard here to control my frustrations but fuck if she thinks I’m going to tolerate this much longer when I don’t know what I’ve done. She’s about to say something when we hear a knock on the metal shutters.
“Hello, beautiful people,” a guy singsongs, entering as if we’ve welcomed him in for tea and biscuits. I’m about to bark at him and ask what the fuck he wants when he speaks again, and I take in his appearance. He's dressed in skinny black leather trousers, a bright pink fluffy top and green glitter boots.
Seriously, what is it about these fucking boots?
Like our little dispute never happened, Pepper’s mood changes instantly as she heads towards the guy and throws her arms around him making me realise who it is.
Malcolm.
"So, this is the gallery, huh?"
“Hey, Mal.”
“And you must be, Dexter?” he says, swinging his hips as he walks towards me with a grin on his face like he’s just won the lottery. To be fair, I’m grateful for the sudden distraction. “I’m Malcolm but you can call me Mal if you think it’s sexier.”
I chuckle, extending my hand to shake his, feeling a little awkward with the way he is looking at me. "Nice to meet you, Malcolm."
"And you. I've heard so much about you. Pepper rants about you often.”
I glance at Pepper but her gaze falls to her feet.
"I'm sure she does. I take it she leaves out the parts where she's just as annoying?"
"Of course. In her eyes, Pep is never that."
"When you two have both finished,” she sighs.
“What can we do for you, Malcolm?”
“He needs my house keys for something,” Pepper interjects.
Something?
Why do I suddenly want to know what this something is? Then again why do I care?
"Pep, you okay? You don’t seem yourself.”
Well look at that, Glitter boots here has noticed, too.
"I'm fine, Mal."
"Heard from your parents?"
"Yeah, they are good. Dad text to say that they might come home a day or so early as Mum is getting to the point of embarrassment."
Malcolm gasps a little too overdramatically. “Oh, Lord. I didn’t think that was possible.”
“Have you met my mother?”
I haven’t.
I head back to my work and relook at the papers with apprehension in my stomach. I’d like nothing more than to meet her parents one day, but the idea of them meeting me is a different thing altogether. Pepper may not be fazed by the wealth differences when it comes to the two of us, but her parents may think otherwise.
“Yes, darling, and I love her. Now give a guy your keys; I’ve got a man waiting to do lunch.”
As Pepper heads out into the kitchen and Malcolm twirls himself around the gallery, I take the opportunity to ask him about Pepper’s office.
“Malcolm, can I ask you something?”
“Of course.”
“If you were to place Pepper in any movie or know of one she likes, what would it be?” He eyes me suspiciously, so I add. “I’m going to surprise her and paint her office. I’m needing ideas.”
Although the way her mood is today, I’ll paint it fucking black.
He comes over to me, clasps my arm with confidence and leans in a little too close for comfort. “Well, in that case, Alice and Wonderland. It’s her favourite and she fits it perfectly.”
Now I’m curious as I’ve never watched it. “How so? I’ve not seen it.”
“Because she’s full of character and loves an adventure.”
“What are you two whispering about?”
“Dexter’s biceps,” Malcolm answers, walking over to Pepper with a swing in his step. “Girl, if he’s got arms like that then what else has he got hidden?”
“Wouldn’t you like to know.”
“Oh, Sir I would.” He winks. I can see why Pepper likes him. Ten minutes in the gallery and he’s changed the atmosphere from what it was before he arrived. Getting the keys from Pepper, he eyes her again, secretly asking her if she’s okay before she gives him a hug. “We’ll chat later.”
Turning to me, Malcolm pops out a hip and runs his eyes over me. “It was lovely to meet you, Dexter. You don’t seem so much of an arsehole after all.”
I laugh out loud, no doubt Pepper having told him I have been in the past. "Thanks."
"If you ever get bored of her and want to bat for the other team"—he runs his hand over his hair, I guess trying to be seductive—"just call me."
Pepper and I both chuckle. "I'll keep that in mind."
“Bye beautiful people.”
With that, he’s gone leaving us both grinning.
Moving closer to Pepper, I reach out to place my arm on the small of her back. The simplest touch makes her back straighten and her smile I love seeing fades, bringing back the shitty attitude she was in moments ago as she moves away from me. “I’ve got work to do.”
What the fuck is going on here?
The smell of my cigar lingers on my clothes as I head back into my house. I’m not much of a smoker, but the tension that’s laid heavy on my shoulders today has had me wanting some form of release. Sensing movement across the room, I find Pepper standing in the doorway.
“I’ve closed up the gallery. I’m heading home now,” she announces as if she’s a new girl I’ve just hired and the past few weeks mean absolutely nothing.
Pissed off doesn’t even come close. I’d thought giving her space and working upstairs would help her clear her head. I was wrong. I’ve not heard from her all afternoon, and anytime I’ve been down to the gallery for something, apart from finding her eyes on me a few times, she’s carried on as if I wasn’t even there.
“That’s it? You’re going to leave like nothing is going on here?” I gesture between us.
“There is nothing going on, Dexter.”
“Bullshit!” In three strides, I’m right in front of her. “I don’t understand what’s going on because any other day you’d show great delight in telling me I’ve fucked up somehow.”
“Well, today I’m not even going to waste my energy because nothing will change. I’m going home. Don’t follow me.”
I push the door from her grasp and slam it closed, keeping her in place so I get some damn answers. If only I’d have stayed at hers, I may know what wrong road I’m fucking walking down here. “Jesus Christ, Pepper, what is your problem today?”
Her eyes widen in pure anger, telling me that the hot-headed beauty is at boiling point and ready to unleash her fury. "You’re the damn problem!”
Mirroring her famous position, I fold my arms wanting to know more. “Well, then can you enlighten me to what I’ve done that’s so tragic?”
“You never allow me to wake up beside you!"
And there it is.
Everything now falls into place and the tightness in my gut is unbearable because I know how much she wants this. I feel as though I’ve been punched in the gut. After kissing her softly on the head, I’d left Pepper sleeping just before dawn this morning and made my way back here. I know she struggles with the fact I’m still yet to spend the whole night with her. If we stay at hers, I leave before she wakes and if she stays at mine, I shift to the sofa. It’s something I can’t bring myself to do, and she has no idea how much it’s affecting me too. There’s something about making that next step that has me overthink shit I shouldn’t be thinking. I’ve put this barrier between us because I fear getting to close. Every time I close my eyes while she’s next to me, I’m terrified I’ll wake up to find that she’s gone. The nightmares of my past and the protection I failed to provide for Tessa are still there. Keeping Pepper at arm’s length when it comes to my past is me shielding her heart. Not holding her all night, is me safeguarding myself.
However, I feel as she’s betraying everything she agreed when we last spoke of this. "And I’ve told you I’m not that sort of man."
"What sort are you then, Dexter? Because other than knowing you’re an artist with a grudge on life, I'm forever in the dark with you. Talk to me."
"There's nothing to talk about. And there’s nothing going on. I'm bipolar. You know this, and because of that I thought you at least respected my choices to not go to sleep with you or wake up with you." Yes, she’s mentioned me not being there. Yes, she asked me to stay. Yes, I know it crushes her because it fucking kills me, too.
"It’s hard respecting your choices when I’m the one left feeling like shit when I wake to find you gone!" she barks. "Bipolar may affect your mood, Dexter, but it doesn’t affect you waking up beside someone. There is more to this.”
“Is that what you think?”
Leaving the space between us, I head for the medicine of all sins: JD.
For the first time since she walked into my life, where I once goaded her into firing back, I find the fight in her too much of a discomfort because I know how much I’m hurting her. But still. The arsehole part in me will not back down.
“It’s what I know.”
“Oh, do go on,” I entice, swigging back the whiskey as if it’s water.
“It’s whatever secrets you hide—the ones for some reason you don’t want me to know; the ones that make you who you are and freak out at the slightest thing that shouldn’t be an issue."
I raise a brow, loving yet hating that I’m pushing her here because the longer she stands there looking sexy as fuck in that red dress, the more she’s messing with my head. "Care to clarify, Blue?"
"Like what life was like before you met Emmet. Why you get angry when I mentioned your family. More importantly, what’s behind that fucking door you forever keep locked!”
The aggression creeps up my spine thick and fast as Tessa’s room has been mentioned. God, how I need her right now because I don't know what to say to correct this situation I'm suddenly faced with. It will mean giving Pepper the answers she's desperate to hear—the words that are too gut-wrenching to speak and exposing that part of me and my life that I loathe the most. I'm not ready, and I thought she'd respect that.
“I don’t know what you expect from me!”
“More than what you’re giving!” she yells. She presses her hand to her chest in frustrated anger, her cheeks red. “I've tried, Dexter. All I do is give and I get nothing back. It’s driving me crazy.”
She needs to stop.
I need her to stop.
Turning my back on her, I hope it will somehow ease the onslaught of what is unfolding here. I know I need to get a fucking grip. I know I need to do more. But how do I do that when I’ve nothing left to give? What kind of life would she—or anyone—have with a man like me?
More importantly, why can’t people just fucking accept my damn choices.
“I can't be dealing with this not knowing where I stand with you!”
"Well if you can’t deal with who I am then you know where the door is!" The words are out of my mouth before I can stop t
hem, and my eyes close with the sudden silence that drops between us.
Nice one, Dex.
"You'd rather have me walk then confide in me?"
I turn to face her and my stomach aches with the look in her eyes. She’s hurt. For the first time since she walked in, I feel myself falter, just enough to give her the honesty that weighs too heavy between us. "I don't confide in anyone, Pepper, so there's your answer."
“And what about me and my feelings? The ones I have for you. The ones I know you feel, too. You’re just going to sabotage all of that?”
Her words stun me.
I’ve prayed secretly and silently since day one that Pepper wouldn’t fall for a man like me.
Tainted.
Tarnished.
Unworthy.
A poor excuse of a man who fails to protect those he loves.
But the hardest part of all of this is that I’d never expected to fall. And I regret the moment I promised Emmet that I would try and be nice to the new girl who walked into my gallery because it’s led me down this road and put me in a situation that I want so badly but that has left me so unsure that I don’t even know where to begin.
So, in order to provide the only form of security I know I can give her, and the fact her words of honesty have made my blood boil for all the reasons I know they shouldn’t, I reply with words that make me want to burn alive. “My feelings don’t come into this, Pepper, because there aren’t any.”
Contradictive fucker.
I feel a complete arsehole when tears glass her eyes and her face shows many signs that I’ve crushed her like she means nothing. I’m so conflicted. Here she is telling me that I mean something to her, that she’s willing to stay when she knows so little about the real Dexter Wilson, yet I’m pushing her away like her heart means nothing. She has no idea how much I need her and no idea how much I fear it. This unexpected feeling she’s had the power to inflict and the light she’s brought into my world filled with shadows is more than I can comprehend. And as she stands there looking at me like I’ve ripped her heart out, I want nothing more than to hold her, have her against my skin and thrive in the paradise she’s cascaded over my tainted world. But my body feels like it’s been weighed down and my words have been stripped from my throat.
