"What?" I asked. My smile broadened as I held out my hands. "I’m just standing here, sticky and smelling like strawberry Icee."
Lane looked away from me and ran a hand through his hair, seeming agitated at the thought of leaving. "Can we please just go up there and get your bags?"
Chapter 8
"I'm so glad you're getting out of this place," Lane said, looking around the room when we first stepped inside.
"I know, but I don’t want to lug my bags to S&S if I'm not sure where I'm going after that," I said.
"You can stay at the collective before you stay another night in here."
"You can't do that," I said. I knew enough about Lane to know he was already bending the rules for me and that rule-bending of any sort was uncomfortable for him.
"Yes I can," he said.
"There aren't any rooms."
"I run the place, Zoe. And I have a couch at my place if it comes to that. It's better than you staying here."
I stared at Lane. He was nicely dressed as always. He had on dress slacks with a starched, collared shirt, but seeing as how it was the middle of the summer, it was unbuttoned at the collar, and his sleeves were rolled up—he still looked incredibly sharp, though—entirely too handsome for this room and my sticky work uniform.
"What can I carry?" he asked.
None of my stuff was spread-out, it was still neatly folded in my duffle bags, so all we had to do was zip them up before taking off.
We talked to the guy at the desk, and I got charged twenty dollars for late checkout, which was worse than him just forgiving me, but better than charging me for another night. It was the strangest thing… I could tell Lane really wanted to pay the guy out of his own money, and he had to make himself refrain from doing so.
We took a cab to S&S, got out, and carried my things straight through the gallery and into Lane's office. Two women tried to talk to Lane on the way in, but Lane said he had some things to take care of and that he'd be back in a minute. I assumed they were both artists. Both of them young and attractive, and I had on a sticky Quickie Mart shirt, which made me avoid too much eye contact with them. I could tell they were curious about me and what Lane was doing helping me through the gallery with giant bags.
"Are you sure it's okay for me to be back here?" I asked, noticing the skeptical looks on the girls' faces.
"Why wouldn't it be?" he asked. He closed his office door and took my duffle off of his shoulder, setting it at his feet. I did the same, setting the smaller one right beside it.
"I don't know. I guess because they were looking at us like this was unusual."
"It's highly unusual," he said. "The only thing that would be more unusual is if I brought you up to my apartment."
"Is your apartment in this building?" I asked.
The look of surprise on my face caused him to smile. "Yes," he said.
"Upstairs?"
"Not in the artists' lofts," he said, knowing that's what I was thinking. "I have an apartment in the building, though."
"Where is it?"
An easy smile remained on his face. "At the top."
"Really?" I asked, instinctually glancing upward.
"You can't see it through the ceiling," he said, causing me to punch at his shoulder for teasing me.
"Is it nice?" I asked.
"The nicest," he said. "Theo's generous, and he loves this place. He really takes care of me because he knows I take care of the collective. I'd do it for a lot less than he gives me, though. I'm invested now. I keep everything professional, but I'm invested. I love all these guys. I love nothing more than to see them use this place as a springboard. That was Theo's vision all along, and the longer I'm here, the more it's my own."
I wanted to ask Lane, right then and there if he ever got into relationships with any of the artists, and maybe, depending on his answer, I'd see if we could possibly work a kiss into the deal. I found that I really wanted to kiss him. His lips were curved in such a way that they were begging to be kissed. It was literally as if they were gesturing to me, come here, kiss me.
"You have a cleft chin," I said, since I knew I had just been caught staring in the general direction of his mouth. Lane touched his chin.
"A little dimple, I guess," he said.
I reached out to touch the little indention in the middle of his chin, and when I did, Lane instantly turned to the side, breaking the contact. "You can't do that," he said. His chest rose and fell with a deep breath as he took a step back.
"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."
"Don't be," he said. "I'm sorry. I know you weren't trying to—never mind. Did you want to use the shower?"
"Yes," I said.
I fished around in my bag until I came up with a change of clothes. I brought that and a small toiletry bag upstairs to the women's shower where I got cleaned up. There was a laundry room nearby that had several washers and dryers, so I decided to wash my work uniform while I was there. Carol had to help me get change out of the machine when it wouldn't accept my dollar bills, but otherwise my experience on the second floor was smooth and self-explanatory.
I decided to kill a little time while I waited for my clothes to finish in the washer. I figured I'd throw them in the dryer before I headed downstairs to talk to Lane and begin my hotel hunt. I showed myself to the kitchen where I purchased a granola bar out of the vending machine before sitting on a couch that lined the wall.
There were a few other people in the room, and the one sitting closest to me introduced himself as Nicholas. It only took us a few exchanges to figure out that he was the one who had loaned me his watercolors. I thanked him for being so kind but decided not to mention whether or not I had used them since I knew Lane hadn't shown anyone the bunny painting. Nicholas and I talked for a while, and I told him during our conversation that I'd love to see some of his artwork sometime, which was the truth. I was so looking forward to getting new influences and ideas.
"I'll show you some of it right now, if you want," Nicholas said.
I agreed easily. "Sure, thanks, I'd love to see it."
I followed Nicholas to his room, which was painted dark grey. All of the flats were the same—four walls, one door, and one window.
"Oh, I haven't seen a grey room," I said. "The one I saw the other day was white."
"We get to chose our color," Nicholas said.
I looked around his room at the twenty or so paintings that were hanging about and lying on every surface.
"How'd it go the other day?" he asked. "Lane said he needed the paints for an interview."
"It went okay, I think." I felt blood rush to my cheeks the instant I figured out that I didn't know how much information I should give him.
"Are you applying for one of those January spots?"
I glanced at him, and he looked me over as if curious for the first time about why I had just taken a shower and was hanging out in the kitchen. I was suddenly extremely nervous about what I should say to him. I had no idea if Lane wanted me talking about taking Lu's place or not.
"I'm not sure, actually," I said. "But your work is really beautiful. I can see that you have a style. I think I need to get more of a style."
Nicholas stood next to me so he could see which painting I was referring to. It was a beautiful orchid. "Thank you," he said. "This one I did in the botanical garden. You'll have to go over there sometime. It's really inspiring."
We were both still standing there looking at it when I heard Lane's voice from the door. "Hey," he said.
"Hey," I returned as Nicholas and I looked up to stare at him. We both had a hand on the orchid painting, and I noticed Lane noticing our proximity, so I let go of the paper by instinct. Lane looked at me curiously when I did that, and I returned his expression with one that was close to regret.
"What are you doin' up here?" Nicholas asked, looking at Lane as if he was a little surprised to see him.
Lane gestured at me. "I was making sure Zoe found everything all right."
"She was chowin' down on a Luna bar when I found her, so she found the vending machines, that's for sure."
Nicholas was standing right next to me, and I smirked at him for saying I was chowing down in front of Lane.
"She said she's applying for that January spot," Nicholas added.
I knew he was probing Lane as a favor to me, but I made another regretful expression to Lane, telling him I hadn't known what to say to the guy.
"Zoe's moving in next month," Lane said in a matter of fact tone. "The girl filling the August spot pulled out."
"Wasn't she doing the documentary?" Nicholas asked.
Lane nodded and flicked his chin to urge me toward the door. "Zoe's doing it now," he said. "She's taking Lu's room and the spot on the film. She's here to take care of paperwork, and I told her to come upstairs and check the place out."
Nicholas turned and looked at me like he was surprised I hadn't shared any of that with him, and all I could do was shrug and smile. "I wasn't sure how official everything was."
"If Lane says it, then it's official," Nicholas said.
"I said it," Lane said, with a little wave aimed at Nicholas as we left. "What took you so long?" he asked as we walked down the hall.
"I didn't know what time you'd be… I was trying to stay out of your… and I have a load of clothes in the washer that needs to—" I trailed off.
"Did you say anything just now?" he asked, coming to a stop in the hallway.
"How'd you know where I was?" I asked, realizing that Nicholas's room was way at the other end of the floor, close to the men's showers.
"I asked the people in the kitchen."
"I threw my work clothes in the washer. I hope that's okay."
"It's fine."
"I should switch them to the dryer before I go downstairs," I said. "They're probably finished washing."
"Okay, do you just want to meet me downstairs in my office?"
I held in a smile, but it was difficult. I could tell I was under Lane's skin just by the way he was looking at me. It wasn't just that he appreciated my art, either. There was something else. If I didn't know any better, I would say he didn't particularly like finding me in Nicholas's room.
"I have a few phone numbers written down for you," he said. "People you can contact about a room."
"I'm sorry," I said. "I could have done that."
"I know."
I expected him to say something more, but he left it at that. He just said the words I know and then looked at me.
"But thank you for doing it," I said. "And for everything."
"You're welcome," he said.
"Okay, so I'll meet you downstairs."
"Yep," he said.
We went our separate ways in the hallway, Lane toward the stairs, and me toward the laundry room. I smiled the whole time, thinking about Lane taking time out of his day to fuss over me and my living arrangements. I switched over my laundry and set my clothes to dry before heading downstairs.
I knocked on the door to Lane's office, and then opened it when I heard him tell me to come in. He was sitting at his desk, and he got to his feet when I came inside.
"I'm putting this in the gallery unless you tell me otherwise," he said gesturing to the robot painting. "I know you're not officially in the house yet, but I figured you could use the money, so I thought I'd go ahead and let you sell it."
"Don't feel like you have to do that," I said, remembering how those girls had looked at me on the way in. "I mean, you can just wait till I live here if that's what you usually do for people."
"Do you not want to sell it?"
"I don’t mind selling it," I said. "I just don’t want you to do me any favors."
"It's too late for that."
"Well, I don't want you to do any more, then."
"Okay, then we'll wait until after you move in. Or, I'll just accidently keep it in my office. I could just pay you for it. That might be the easiest thing."
"I'm so sure. I didn't even want you to pay me for that other one."
He gave me a resigned smile. "I know you'll have to sell your stuff if you want to be able to buy supplies. I might be your biggest fan, but I can't keep everything you paint for myself."
"You're sweet for saying you’re my fan."
"You're about to have plenty of fans, trust me."
He propped himself against the side of his desk with his legs crossed in front of him, and I walked over there to stand closer.
"None of my future fans will be as good as the first one," I said with a thankful smile that let Lane know I was referring to him.
"I know I'm not your first fan. You said you sold all your stuff in Texas, so they must know good art when they see it."
"Some of them were nice about my art. My dad was a fan I guess, but none of them were like you," I said. "None of them make me feel the way you do." I smiled shyly, feeling like I got deeper than I intended—especially after he told me I couldn't touch his chin earlier. "Thankful, I mean. I know you're going out on a limb for me."
"Zoe?"
"Yeah?"
"I have never and will never act in an inappropriate way with any of the artists. I have no trouble maintaining a professional relationship with all of them."
"Okay, that's good," I said.
I felt clean after taking a shower, and it gave me the confidence to stand closer to him than I should have. I came to stand right next to him, leaning against the desk in the same way he was. I knew he was doing his best to refrain from noticing my proximity.
"My personal feelings for you can't really enter in to the equation once you move in," he said. "I thought I should at least tell you that."
I was tempted to pretend that I had no idea what he meant by personal feelings—like his whole comment came out of the blue and I really wasn't sure what he was talking about, but that wouldn't have been fair to either of us—not when we both knew the connection between us was real.
I felt breathless at the fact that he even said the phrase personal feelings about me. My lungs felt like they were functioning at about half capacity.
"I promise I won't let my personal feelings for you show when I'm living here," I said. "Nobody will ever even know they're there."
"But they are," he said, assuming on my behalf.
I smiled. "Maybe," I teased. "No one ever said I couldn’t flirt with you a little before I sign my contract, though. I haven't signed anything yet."
"You're gonna get me in trouble, Zoe."
"I'm sorry."
He smiled. "No, you're not."
"You're right, I'm really not."
Chapter 9
Three-and-a-half weeks later
Moving day
I had seen it transpire on TV sitcoms and read about it in books, but I never had it happen to me personally—at least not to the extent that it took place the day I moved into S&S. It was an accidental eavesdropping of epic proportions.
I had already gotten all of my things into my room, although nothing was yet unpacked. I loved my room and felt instantly comfortable in it. I chose a light grey-ish purple for the walls. I had a lilac-colored room as a child, so I went with a subdued version of that. It had only been painted a few days before, so I had just seen it for the first time, and I loved how it came out.
On the way up to my room with all of my things, I had seen that a few of my paintings were already hanging in the gallery. I had done several of them during the last few weeks while I was waiting for the portrait photographer who I'd be replacing to finish his term.
I brought each one to Lane as I finished, but we agreed that he wouldn't make them available in the gallery until I moved in. I was surprised and excited to see them already hanging up on my very first day, and it was for this reason that I set my things down in a hurry and headed back down to the gallery to see them.
I was staring at one of them and thinking about how nice the frame was when Lane came into the gallery along with the owner, Theo Duval. The gal
lery was huge, and there were partitions and structures spread throughout, so I was aware of their arrival, but the two men had no idea I was present in the room.
I peered around a corner, watching as they came in and began talking to the person who was working—a girl named Lu who happened to be the same person who had given up her spot for me. She wasn't living here, obviously, but she had just started working at the gallery as part of the hired staff.
I had never met Theo before, but I'd seen a picture, and I knew he was in town, so there was no mistaking who it was standing next to Lane. When I first heard of Theo's story, I assumed he was older. I couldn't really tell his age in the picture I saw, but seeing him standing next to Lane gave me a new perspective of him. It seemed like that they were close to the same age, which was not what I expected.
I became entranced and stood there watching them converse for what must have been a full minute. Lane was the more serious of the two gentlemen, but there were words and laughs exchanged between them all. They were both handsome and nicely dressed, and it didn't surprise me at all when a group of people who had been browsing the gallery walked up to them to introduce themselves.
By that point, I felt stuck in my little corner of the gallery. I could make my way to the elevator to go up to my room, but to do that, I had to cross a great distance, making it obvious that I'd been in there all along. The stairway was closer, but I couldn't get there without being seen, and it would draw attention to me when the door swung open, anyway. It was easier for me to just wait it out in the corner while they finished their conversation.
Before I knew what was happening, the two gentlemen finished talking to Lu and the others and left the front desk. They seemed to have an air of wandering about them, like they meant to meander around the gallery, which was a total nightmare for me. Lane pointed in my direction, and I ducked behind a wall. It might not have been the best choice to hide, but I was just that nervous and my body did it on reflex. I stood there, trying to catch my breath, and praying they would pass by me quickly and be on their way.
I wasn't usually one to hide, but I was officially hiding now—there was no way I could come out from behind that wall without it being really obvious and awkward. The more seconds that passed, and the closer they walked, the more I was stuck.
So Much for Boundaries (Shower & Shelter Artist Collective Book 3) Page 6
