by Megan Hart
Niall ran a hand through his hair. “What the hell am I supposed to do with you, Elise?”
“Anything you want,” I whispered.
He gripped the steering wheel. Both hands. Tight enough to turn his knuckles white. He didn’t say anything. The silence between us stretched and grew until it engulfed me.
Maybe, I thought, he didn’t want me.
Not enough.
Paralyzed by the thought of that, of what I would do if he told me now that this was the last time we would see each other, that he’d grown tired of me, that he didn’t like me “in that way,” that we simply weren’t working out, I could not move. I opened my mouth, words trapped and burning in my throat, but I could not make myself speak.
The last person to do that to me was Esteban, and that had been bad enough. With Niall, my feelings were heightened by about a hundred times. The pain would be that and more.
Anxious and uncertain, I backed off. Closed up tight. I couldn’t make myself look at him or lean to kiss him. I put my hand on the door handle and made my voice light and neutral so it wouldn’t shake.
“Goodbye, Niall.”
“I’ll call you tomorrow,” Niall said.
I nodded and got out of the car. I thought about turning back, but in the end, I didn’t. I just watched him drive away.
CHAPTER 30
“Chin up,” Olivia said. “To the left a little…there. Perfect. This is going to be great.”
We were taking more pinup shots, this time for a local store that sold vintage dresses. Most of their business came from their website, so they’d hired Olivia for an ongoing gig to provide pictures of their dresses on models. The clothes sold better when people could see them on real people. I loved dressing up, and Olivia had told me she was happy about the steady income.
“Alex wants to stay home and be a househusband,” she told me as I went behind a paper screen to get out of one dress and into another. “I told him no way. He’d drive me crazy if he were here all the time. I’d never be able to get any work done.”
“No, really?” I laughed and peeked at her over the top of the screen. “He’d bug you all day? Can’t imagine that.”
Olivia shook her head fondly. “My life would suck without him, though.”
“Yeah…you guys are pretty amazing together.” I came out and twirled, the skirt of my dress belling out. “I like this one a lot.”
“You think so? About me and Alex, I mean. The dress, of course, is amazing.” Olivia smiled as she fiddled with her camera.
I took my spot in front of the plain background. “Yeah. I do. Some people bicker so much all the time, it’s like they can’t stand each other. Some people are way too into each other, like they don’t have lives without the other. It’s rare when you meet a couple who are…just right.”
“Like Goldilocks,” Olivia murmured, focused on what she was viewing through her lens. “Not too much, not too little. Just right.”
“Just right,” I agreed. “Lucky you.”
She looked up at me. “You okay?”
“Fine.” I smiled and twirled again while her camera whirred and clicked.
Later in my own clothes, but still wearing the heavy black eyeliner and red lipstick I’d worn for the pictures, I declined her invitation to have dinner with her and Alex. I had plans with Niall.
Olivia grinned. “So, it’s on with you two?”
“I don’t know if it’s…on. Exactly.” I smoothed powder over my nose and ran a brush through my hair. I’d taken it out of the Victory rolls, but it was still now much wavier than I normally wore it. I eyed myself critically. “Should I go home first? Or do something different with my hair? Is this too much? We’re just going for pizza and beer.”
“You look fantastic. And what do you mean, you don’t know if it’s on? Either it’s on,” Olivia said, “or it’s not.”
“I guess it’s on. Casually on. Slowly. Hesitantly, maybe?” At least I felt more hesitant about it than I’d been feeling before.
“Slow can be good. No need to rush into anything,” she agreed as she put away her camera. “Not so sure about hesitantly.”
“I guess I have a fucked-up viewpoint on relationships, that’s all.” I’d tumbled headlong and headstrong into my thing with George, and look where it had gotten me. I’d put all kinds of brakes on my relationship with Esteban, and it hadn’t worked out much better. Niall was so different from them both, and we still hadn’t even crossed the possibly huge chasm before us—the fact that we might want different things in bed. “I want to sort of let go and see what happens, take it as it comes. But it’s scary, you know? Taking a chance.”
Olivia looked at me. “Yeah. No kidding. But you like him, huh?”
“I do. I wasn’t sure about him at first. But yeah. I like him.” I leaned on the desk for a moment, watching her slip her SD card into her laptop’s slot so she could pull up the day’s shots. “We have fun together.”
“Fun’s important.” She glanced at me. “He has a good sense of humor?”
“Oh. Yeah. A goofy sense of humor, for sure. So…we’ll see what happens. I like that one.” I pointed out an image.
She looked at my choice and blew it up to start touching it up. “Good eye.”
I watched her work for another minute or so before I had to get going. We scheduled another session for next month, which would be a nice couple hundred bucks in my pocket, and I’d never complain about that.
Niall greeted me at his front door with a glass of iced tea so cold it was sweating. Perfectly sweetened. A squeeze of lime, not lemon, that quirk of mine that nobody else ever seemed to get right, even when I ordered it in a restaurant and was very specific with the server. Crushed ice, not cubed. And the crowning touch—a straw, because I hated the way ice bumped against my lips.
“Hey, baby, wow, thank you.” I kissed him on the mouth, then the cheek, and drank thirstily. I caught a glimpse of his expression as he let me past him into the living room. “What?”
“Just glad to see you, that’s all. You look…different.” Niall swept me with his gaze. “Turn around.”
I set down my glass on the coffee table and spun, showing off my cute summer frock. It wasn’t one of the ones Olivia had taken pictures of me in, but it was from the same shop. Sleeveless gray-and-white-checked cotton with a scooped neckline and a cute matching belt. The dress made me feel feminine and powerful because, wearing it, I also felt pretty. Paired with black pointy-toed flats, I also felt like I wanted to twirl and dip, so I did with the weight of his gaze on me making me blush.
“I was doing some pictures with Olivia,” I explained when he still looked quizzical.
Niall frowned, though he tried to hide it. “Ah. Alone, or…?”
Jealous, but not willing to admit it? Laughing, I pressed against him, my fingers linked behind his neck. I tipped my face for a kiss, which he gave me.
“Alone,” I said. “Are you going to ask me to stop modeling?”
“You’re an adult woman. It’s not my place to tell you what you should do.”
It was the right answer, but it rang a little false. I kissed him again, just a brush of our lips this time. “But you want to. Don’t you?”
Niall’s hands settled on my hips, and he inched me closer. “Yeah. Kind of.”
I had to force myself to keep my voice light when I replied. “You know, I had a guy ask me to stop modeling once.”
Niall’s eyes narrowed. “I guess you didn’t.”
“No, I did. For the few weeks we went out, sure I did.” I shook my head. “I’m not a total bitch, Niall. And yes, there are things I like, but I’ve dated a few guys who weren’t into the props and rituals, and that was okay, too. Not everything is my way or the highway. I might not like being told what to do, but that doesn’t
mean if I’m asked nicely that I won’t at least consider it. I might be selfish, but I like to think I’m not completely self-absorbed.”
“No, you’re not.”
We swayed, dancing in a slow circle without music to guide us. We didn’t need any. We were perfectly in sync.
“I don’t like to think of you doing that sort of thing with someone else, that’s all.” He shrugged.
We stopped moving. I pushed up on my toes to kiss him again then hug him. I whispered into his ear, “Pictures are pictures, Niall. Modeling is like acting. None of that is real.”
“But it’s real for you,” he said. “I mean, it’s still your thing. I guess I wouldn’t like it, then, if you were doing your thing with someone else, for real or for pretend. If you’re mine, you’re mine. I don’t want you with anyone else.” He frowned briefly. His fingers tightened on my hips.
I swooned a little. Okay, a lot. “Am I, then? Yours?”
“Do you want to be?”
I kissed him again. Slower this time. Lingering. The swipe of his tongue sent a shiver all through me, and when I pulled back, I’m sure my eyes were as bright as his.
“What are we doing, exactly, Niall Black?”
“I’m tryin’,” he said, “to court you.”
A month of bowling and dinner and movies. Kisses on the front step and late-night phone calls. Goofy texts. Flowers and perfect iced tea. And, other than the night of William’s Bar Mitzvah, we hadn’t done anything more than make out.
“It’s a big responsibility, you know. Keeping me happy,” I said against his mouth. My fingers toyed with the length of his hair in the back, and when he shivered, I grinned. “I can be very particular.”
“I know, I know,” Niall said. “Lime in the iced tea, not lemon.”
I’d been dreamy, teasing, but at this I pushed away from him then so I could turn and keep my face from him. Not because I was mad or sad, but because in all my life, there’d never been a man who’d bothered to pay attention to such a small detail…or who got it right.
And then he hit a home run.
“You were left-handed as a kid,” he continued in a low voice from behind me. “But someone must’ve made you switch, huh?”
Slowly, I turned, my heart pounding so hard it’s a wonder it didn’t block out the sound of anything but its beating. “Yes. My mother. Evan was right-handed, and she thought I should be, too. The kindergarten teacher said nobody forced lefties to switch any longer, but my mom insisted anyway. I learned to write right-handed, but yeah…I’m a leftie. I’ve never told anyone that.”
“You didn’t have to tell me. You automatically reach with your left hand,” he said. “I’ve watched you do it with just about everything. I figured.”
That was it, then. The moment I knew. Despite how strangely it had begun, the time I’d so far spent with him still so short it was hardly time at all, when I stood in front of him and knew that Niall Black knew me, really fucking knew me, that was it. I was done.
I was in love.
* * *
I made him dinner. Nothing fancy, but it was cozy, the two of us at his tiny kitchen table. We laughed over veggie lasagna, and he cleared the dishes without being asked. I watched him rinse them at the sink before putting them in the dishwasher.
“A girl could get used to this,” I said. “All you need is an apron. No pants, just the apron.”
Niall looked at me over his shoulder. “You know, Elise, when you objectify me in that way, it makes me feel all tingly inside.”
I grinned. “When you do the dishes, it gets me downright full-on horny.”
“Just think,” he said as he pulled me out of my chair to kiss me, “what would happen if I did your laundry?”
“You’d kill me! That’s what would happen.” I linked my fingers behind his neck and looked into his eyes as I stroked my fingers through his hair again, loving how silky it was. Thick and dark, a few glints of silver at the temples. “How old are you?”
“Isn’t that supposed to be a rude question?” He frowned.
“Hey,” I laughed, “I just had a birthday. You already know how old I am.”
“I’m older than you.” He nuzzled my throat for a moment. “Does it matter?”
“No. I guess not. Just curious.” I pretended to scrutinize him. “Do you not want to tell me because you’re ancient, or…?”
“Ancient, damn. You know how to stab a guy, don’t you? I’m forty. I had my milestone birthday in March.”
“Wow. Forty. That’s…” I giggled when he poked me. “Sexy. Forty is sexy!”
He kissed me. I kissed him. Somehow my ass ended up on the table, and the rest of the dishes were forgotten for a few minutes.
“You’re terrible, you know that?” he said into my ear.
Surprised, I pushed back. “What? Why?”
Shaking his head, Niall pulled me closer. “Oh, no, you can’t play that game with me. I see it in your eyes. You’re totally undressing me with them.” I started laughing as he continued, “And listen, I’m not just a sex object, Elise.”
“I never said…” I couldn’t go on, choking on laughter.
“You didn’t have to say. It’s all over your face. The sheer, raw animal lust in your eyes!” Niall stood, his hand still in mine, tugging me off the table. “Frankly, I’m both affronted and taken aback.”
Giggling, I tried to act chastened. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay,” he told me and pulled me closer. “I am pretty sexy, even for some kind of ancient, grizzled grandpa. I know you can’t help being overcome with the lust.”
“You totally are, and I totally am.” I pushed onto my tiptoes to kiss him gently. “Thank you for taking pity on me and stopping me before I do something crazy.”
“Like rip my clothes off and have your wicked way with me?”
“Yes, like that.” I laughed again at his expression. “I know. The horror.”
For a moment, both of us smiled and looked into each other’s eyes but said nothing. He linked his fingers in mine and tugged me into the living room, where he put on a streaming comedy from Interflix, and we settled on the couch to watch. Several minutes after it started, Niall gave an enormous fake yawn and stretched to put his arm around my shoulders. Laughing, I snuggled in.
“Smooth,” I told him.
“Hey, I don’t want you to get scared off if I move too fast.” He shifted a little closer and put his feet up on the coffee table. “Got to keep my girl happy.”
It’s what George had always said, and I frowned at how suddenly and viscerally I reacted to it. “Ugh…don’t…don’t call me that.”
Niall looked at me. “No? Sorry. I should call you a woman? Or a lady, I’m never sure what’s politically correct.”
“It’s not…ugh. I don’t mind being referred to as a girl. Or I thought I didn’t.” I shifted to angle toward him. “The last real relationship I had, he always called me his girl.”
“And you didn’t like it when he called you that?” Niall took his arm from around my shoulders, which wasn’t at all what I’d wanted him to do.
“I did. At the time. But you know how it is.” I shrugged. “When you’re hot and heavy with someone and you put up with things you don’t normally like, or you do things you wouldn’t normally do because somehow…with them…it’s okay.”
Neither of us had moved, but there was an abrupt and vast distance between us. Niall looked at the TV, but he wasn’t laughing. I looked at him.
“Hey,” I said. “I’m sorry. Would you rather I didn’t tell you when I don’t like something?”
He twisted to face me. “No. I just don’t like that something I did made you think of someone else, that’s all. When you’re with me, I guess I want you to be thinking of me.”
“Ah.” I chewed the inside of my lip for a second. “That’s fair.”
“I guess I need to know if I’m being compared,” Niall said.
This surprised me enough that I took his hand to squeeze it. “Wow. No. I mean, sure, but favorably.”
“I guess that’s better than not favorably.” His smile was thin.
I sighed, thinking almost guiltily of all those late-night texts and how long I’d been holding on. I hadn’t texted George since Niall and I had started dating, but he didn’t need to know any of that. “It was a long time ago, and it didn’t end well. Scars, remember? If I compare you at all, it’s only because everyone compares. I’m sure you’ve had girlfriends you’re comparing me to.”
He looked caught then nodded. “Yeah, I guess so.”
“Oh, do tell.” I perked up, interested and curious but also fighting off a pang of jealousy.
“I had a few” was all he said, but I wasn’t going to let him get off that easy.
Kneeling on the couch, I took his face in my hands as though I meant to kiss him, but when he moved to let his lips touch mine, I shifted just enough that he’d have to really reach for it. “That’s it? Just a few? Nobody special?”
“Are you asking me if I have baggage?” His hands settled on my hips, holding me close in a way I wouldn’t notice unless I tried to pull away again. But I noticed.
“Everyone has baggage. I’m just trying to figure out how many girls have broken your heart before.” I tried to make it sound light. I meant it to. But my voice cracked and chipped a little on the words.
Niall kissed me. “They all did, in their own ways.”
“That’s terrible.” I frowned and settled onto his lap to tuck my face against his neck. I put my hand on his chest, over his heart. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s what happens,” he said against my hair. “How many broke yours?”
“Just the one,” I said. “Believe me, that was enough.”
We were quiet for a while. I timed my breathing to his. In, out.
He’d hung my picture on the wall in the living room, which alternatingly made me feel odd and exhilarated, though I’d never so much as pointed out that I saw where he’d put it.
