CHAPTER 23

I made it three weeks without contacting or being contacted by Hayden.

My mortification over kissing him like a crazy idiot walks with me daily. A sick, little devil reminding me of how dumb I am.

But my stupid brain keeps returning to Evaline's words. Despite my immeasurable shame over the way I behaved with Hayden in his gallery, I'm ecstatic over the fact that he kept the sketch of my face near his bedside. The bounce between absolute dread and euphoric joy rivals just about any bounce between mania and a depressive episode.

I've painted nothing in the last three weeks. I'm stable, thank the gods, but my head is too scrambled thinking about Hayden.

Now, I'm sitting in Daniel's office, and he's outside somewhere. He told me to wait in here, and he'll be with me in a minute. So, obviously, I work through every possible worst-case scenario: Daniel found out that I kissed his client, and I'm going to lose my job; I'm going to lose Daniel's respect; Daniel is going to throw me out and tell me to never show my face here ever again. I'll have to move across the country where no one will know what an utter failure in life I am.

Inhaling deeply, I chew on my lower lip and beg my heart to slow down. I'm definitely going to lose my job, or, at the very least, Daniel is going to be so disappointed. I don't know if that's any better than getting fired. I'm filled with existential dread. Why am I even alive?

"Levi?"

I leap from my chair and spin around. "Yeah?" My eyes shift to the left of Daniel.

Oh, fucking shit.

"Hayden dropped by to have a little chat with me about your work," Daniel says cheerfully.

My eyes bounce between the two men. My throat is like the Sahara Desert. Hayden's eyes bore into mine. He's gorgeous. I'm sure everyone tells him that.

Jesus Christ. Fucking focus.

"Uh, okay?" I manage from this new level of near-catatonic dread.

Daniel's broad smile is all I have going for me right now. Maybe it's not all bad?

"He's happy with what you've provided so far. Hayden asked to have a word with you, so I'll leave you two alone," Daniel says.

Ah, fuck.

When we're alone, Hayden speaks first. "I haven't heard from you in a month." An accusation laced within the softness of his voice.

I wipe my sweaty palms on the side of my jeans. Is that mania clawing at the door inside my head? No. No. I'm medicated. I'm fine. It's just my anxiety. On steroids. It's fine. Everything's fine. I mentally dance through my mantra: Don't hyperventilate. Just stay calm. You're properly medicated. It's not mania. You're just anxious. And maybe a little terrified.

"It wasn't a month," I say. Pathetic response.

"How long was it, then, Levi?" His soft voice turns stern. I think he's a little mad. I don't blame him. I violated him in his own home. But wasn't staying away from him the most right thing to do after that? Why would he be mad about it?

He steps closer to me. I have nowhere to go unless I bolt past him and out of the room – an option I contemplate earnestly. He stands within an inch of me. I can smell his cologne.

"Three weeks," I say. Because I've been counting.

"I haven't heard from you in three weeks." Again, accusing.

"I've . . . been busy?" Jesus, help me. Desperately, I add, "Look. I'm really, really, really sorry about what happened at your house. I'm so ashamed; you have no idea." My eyes dart to the door. "Did you tell Daniel?" I whisper.

His eyes soften. "No."

I really like this guy's eyes. My relief sends me to the edge of the universe. "Again, I'm sorry. I – I read that whole thing wrong—"

"You didn't," this absolute god of a man tells me with a straight face while he rocks my world with two fucking words.

"W-what?"

"I want you at my house tonight at seven o'clock," he says.

Firstly, it's outrageous that he would stand there so calmly like he hadn't just, two seconds ago, made the biggest implication in the history of the universe.

Secondly, I used to be a pro whore. I know the signs. This hot fucker is propositioning me. And it's all very demanding and lovely.

There are only two questions to answer: Am I going to be a whole fucking whore for Hayden? Or am I not? Because, although this guy still gives off missionary style vibes with his whole upper-class demeanor, I'll still let him bang me six ways to Sunday. And I'd climb him like fucking Mount Everest if he allowed it.

The answer is a whole fucking yes. Fuck the vow of celibacy because when was the last time I went ridin' without any handlebars? Haven't been to Pound Town in fucking years. No fuckin' sparta sex for me, no sir, not since Lukas fucked everything up.

But guess what? I'm medicated. I can handle this. And Hayden isn't an asshole like Lukas. I know he's the missionary-gentleman type, but still, I want to be under this man immediately at seven o'clock tonight.

Unfortunately for me, though, I'm a very responsible person these days, so I politely decline."I don't have anything to show you," I stammer. It's a cop-out but it'll have to do.

"Seven o' clock." He drops a card on the desk. "This is your guest-pass into the estate."

The door slams shut behind Hayden, leaving a cloud of what-the-fuck-was-that in his wake. I stare after him with my jaw on the ground and my heart in the cosmos. I'm shocked and ecstatic, and I don't even remember what happens the rest of the day after that.

Back home, I prepare for my visit to Hayden's house. First, I pull out my letter of celibacy, and make one minor adjustment. Now it says, ‘no sex ever again, except this one time with Hayden'.

I arrive at Hayden's place with his guest pass promptly at seven o'clock. I'm stable; I keep telling myself. Tonight, I'm as in charge of my faculties as I could ever be, and fuck, if I haven't come here prepared for any-fucking-thing. If I were to tell someone what I have in my ass right now, they'd die of second-hand embarrassment if I'm wrong about this evening.

"Evaline is off for the weekend," Hayden tells me at the door.

He leads me to – you guessed it – his office. All this real estate, but I swear, this guy lives in his office.

I'm nervous but not the skin picking, heart racing, I-need-to-die, kind of nervous. My heart is racing, yes, but it's the kind of chaos I can swim in. I won't drown, and, even if I do, I'll go down happy.

"I need to water my plant," Hayden says. He does. Which is weird, because he's choosing now to water his plant? But, I guess, who am I to judge people when they're being weird? I'm the weirdest of them all.

Afterward, he takes my hand, and leads me through a part of the house I haven't seen before. There's a living room, different from the one we usually pass through from the front door to Hayden's office and what looks like another bedroom at a quick glance. We step outside—

And into a garden.

"This is my garden," he says, like he's making an announcement. He's nervous. Why is he nervous?

I pick at the skin on my lips. I'm nervous. "You wanted to show me your garden?" I ask. Fuck. Hold on for incoming first-hand embarrassment because I have a fucking butt plug sitting snugly in my ass, courtesy of my absolute conviction that I was going to get monstrously railed tonight (or gentlemanly railed, which would've been fine too).

"Yes," Hayden replies. "You asked if I ever came out here. I wanted to come out here tonight."

I'm a little lost. I truly thought—

He reaches out and stills my fingers. "It'll bleed too much today." His voice softens at the end of his sentence. It's too intimate, the sound of his voice. Too much care falling between the words.

Is it me? Am I reading it all wrong again? Are my meds making me less lucid than usual? Does this man want to fuck me or be my friend? I would prefer the former because I'm incapable of participating in the latter.

Hayden brushes the pad of his thumb across my bottom lip. Without thinking, I turn my face upward, leaning into his touch.

How, between three seconds ago and now, did everything change so monumentally? The air entering and exiting my body is different. Hayden is different.

He steps closer. I'm immediately at his mercy. I'll kiss him again; I swear to God. If he doesn't kiss me, I'll kiss him again like the last time, and I'll live with the humiliation if he rejects me.

Hayden slips his arm around my waist. His other hand remains on my face, his thumb still on my lower lip, pressing slightly.

"I won't tell Daniel if you don't," he says.

There is no ambiguity here this time. I lift my face to his, cursing the need to force out, "I'm stable. I promise." He dips his head, acknowledging.

And we kiss. Our bodies pressing together gently, Hayden kisses me, soft and lovely. He is just the way I knew he would be.

I would've preferred it if he ate my fucking face, but this, too, takes my breath away.