Chapter 10

"Ready," she says.

I uncover her eyes and step aside. My hands are sweaty. I stuff them in my pockets.

Her jaw drops as she looks at the large easel now prominently in the center of the loft.

"This is for me?"

"Yeah."

She blinks a couple times, mouth still hanging open while my ears become hotter.

"I knew you were only able to get clothes and a few bathroom things from the apartment, and I wanted you to be able to draw and paint while you're here. If you want."

Is it too much? It's too much. I knew it. Maybe it's the wrong kind. It's bigger than her other easel. She hates it.

"I can't believe you did this. I love it." She walks over to it and touches the wood frame.

"You do?"

"Yes." She beams at me, her smile radiant.

Relief washes through me like an exhale of cool air. "I also got you these." I show her the box of stuff behind the easel. A few blank canvases, a new sketchbook, pencils, charcoals, a fresh set of oil paints, some new brushes, and a full can of mineral spirits.

A knowing look passes between us.

"Maybe no candles up here, yeah?" she says, forcing back a grin.

"Agreed." I refrain from commenting that we'll be safe as long as she doesn't flash me what's between her legs again. And now I'm thinking about that pretty…pink…

Fuck.

I shake my head and try to distract myself from my growing erection.

"I tried to get you all the same things you had before, but I couldn't remember all the exact brands, I hope I did okay."

"You did more than okay. This is great. Truly, I think this is the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me."

I smile at her, and her eyes are getting shiny, and I'm not sure what to do so I just keep talking. "We set it up here, so it'd be kind of private. I know you don't like people looking at your works in progress, but if you want it somewhere else, I can move it. Maybe down by the windows or?—"

She jumps up and flings her arms around my neck. Startled, I instinctively wrap my arms around her waist. Her toes are barely touching the floor and I'm holding her up while all the softest parts of her are pressed against me.

"It's perfect," she whispers against my neck. "Thank you."

Her hugs always feel so wonderful, so genuine, so perfect. So…right.

I exhale all the tension and squeeze her a little tighter. She buries her face into my shoulder, and we linger in the embrace a few moments longer. Neither of us says a thing.

She thanks me again as she pulls away, and I realize I'm reluctant to let go.

I follow her down the stairs and we settle on the couch. She puts that silly show on. I check emails on my phone and shoot some texts out to clients checking on how their new tattoos are healing and reminding others of upcoming appointments.

"I thought Zeke was into Camber." I glance casually up from my phone.

"No, she's hooking up with Braxton."

"But weren't they kissing last episode?"

"That was three episodes ago. He's trying to start something with Ainsley."

"That's never going to happen. She's been eyeing Josiah since day one."

Livvy quirks an eyebrow at me. "I thought you weren't interested in this show."

"I'm not." I just happen to be in the living room whenever she's watched it this week, that's all.

She laughs. Still smiling, she starts typing on her phone. Probably texting someone.

Probably Anthony.

I don't know why that idea irks me so much.

So I go back to my phone, too, Braxton whining to producers about how girls don't like nice guys nowadays in the background.

I sent Angel a message when I first got up, but she hadn't replied by the time I started the waffles. I open the app to see if she's responded yet and there she is. Three tiny dots pop up as she types. My chest tightens as my heart does a stupid little leap.

2Horned:

Good morning, beautiful

ANG3L:

You're "good morning, beautiful"-ing me?

2Horned:

Too much?

ANG3L:

I mean, you don't even know what I look like, it's very presumptuous of you

2Horned:

I know you're beautiful on the inside, that counts. And I have a feeling you are on the outside too

ANG3L:

You do?

2Horned:

Yes. I'm very good at guessing these things

You know, there is a way to settle this. Just send me a picture

She doesn't reply right away. Finally sending me an eyebrow raised emoji.

No pictures is one of her rules. I shouldn't have suggested it. I know that.

2Horned:

What about no face? A body shot.

Men are very visual. It'd give me something to look at or imagine next time I get off for you

She hasn't replied in a minute and I'm starting to panic. My attempts to backtrack are somehow simultaneously doubling down and making it worse. I decide to go light, play it off as a joke.

2Horned:

What about just a shoulder? Chin? Foot?

ANG3L:

I didn't know you were into feet

I'll make a note of that

2Horned:

I'm not. But I don't know.

Maybe I'd be into yours

ANG3L:

I'll think about it

She'll think about it? That's what moms say when they don't want to say no but the answer is unequivocally no.

I need to change the subject. Fast.

The whole exchanging pictures conversation is dangerous, anyway. What if Wood is right and she's not who she says she is, or I'm just not attracted to her at all? The illusion shattered. The soulmate on the other side of the screen who I can talk about anything with, gone.

That would be devastating.

I look up, Livvy is across from me, looking at her screen, worrying her lower lip. Talk about cute. She's adorable. And that lip. Her fucking perfect plump lip. I throw a pillow at her.

She looks up when it bounces off her shoulder. "Hey!"

"You're missing your show."

"I'm listening to it."

"Mhm."

2Horned:

Oh hey, so thank you for your advice last night. The present was a great idea

ANG3L:

So things are all good between you now?

2Horned:

I think so

ANG3L:

Oh good! And, you're welcome

2Horned:

I appreciate you letting me bug you with my problems last night, I know it was late. It was like 2am for me

ANG3L:

You never bug me! Yeah, it was 2am for me too

2Horned:

Oh shit

Wait

Did we just establish that we live in the same time zone?

ANG3L:

I guess we did. It's okay, it's a big time zone

2Horned:

Let me guess, you're in California

ANG3L:

I'm not! I was going to school in Oregon but I just moved back home to Washington

I don't know why I'm telling you this

2Horned:

Wow. I'm in Washington, too

ANG3L:

Really?

2Horned:

Yeah. But it's a big state. I mean, I live in a city with a metro population of 3.5 million, it's not like we're going run into each other on the street tomorrow

ANG3L:

You live in the Seattle area?

2Horned:

Yes

ANG3L:

Me too

Fuck.

Holy fucking shit.

2Horned:

Oh. I take back what I said, then

My pulse is racing. What if this is it? What if it's a sign from the universe or something? The push I've needed. What if it's her? What if she really is my soulmate?

2Horned:

We should meet

Why the fuck did I just say that?

I shouldn't have said that.

She hasn't replied.

It's been minutes.

The little dots appear.

Then they disappear.

I've freaked her out.

I've freaked out my soulmate and now nothing will ever happen beyond our phones.

That was stupid. I've ruined it.

Worse, what if she agrees to meet and she's not even close to my soulmate? What if we have nothing in common and give each other the ick and then this friendship is ruined?

Fuck.

I'm overthinking.

She still hasn't replied.

I need to put my phone down before I get too in my head over it.

But then the dots pop up again. She's typing.

I hold my breath as I clutch my phone.

ANG3L:

I don't think I'm up for meeting right now

That awful sinking feeling trickles down my spine, cold, and lands in a heavy heap in my stomach.

I knew it. I knew the moment I said it, it was a mistake.

I'm disappointed. I'm relieved. I have no idea how to feel or what to say back. Everything I think to reply sounds wrong. I should shut up before I make it worse.

I toss my phone onto the coffee table, telling myself I'll respond in a little bit when I can figure out the right thing to say, and look over to Livvy.

She's staring at her phone, her eyebrows knitted and nose crinkled in the cutest way.

"Are you okay?" I ask.

Livvy lifts her eyes from her phone as she lays it face down on the couch next to her. "I'm fine." She smiles then turns to the TV.

Camber just walked in on Braxton canoodling with Sierra in the hot tub. I never even used the word ‘canoodling' until this show.

Livvy and I groan simultaneously as the episode ends and we'll have to wait to see the aftermath until next week.

She turns it off, the little crease between her brows still there as she chews her bottom lip some more.

"You sure you're okay?"

She releases her lip from her teeth. "Yeah. I've just got stuff on my mind."

"Me, too. Let's distract each other."

"How—"

I grab her foot by the ankle and extend her leg toward me. She squeals and pulls it back.

"What are you doing?"

"Give me your foot."

"Don't tickle it. I'm super ticklish."

I wasn't planning on tickling her, but now… "You shouldn't have told me that."

She yelps when I touch her foot again.

"I won't tickle you."

"Promise?"

"I promise. Just give me your foot."

She stretches it toward my lap slowly, eyeing me the whole time. I pick up the permanent marker from the coffee table as I steady her foot on my thigh. It's a pretty foot. I'm not into feet, and I've never thought they were pretty, but hers are. That's a weird thought. I try to push my conversation with Angel out of my head.

"What should I draw?" I ask as I take the lid off with my teeth.

"Hm. You pick."

I grin, looking at her from under my lashes. "Okay."

She giggles when the felt tip touches the top of her foot and tries to wiggle away from me as I draw the first line. I shoot her a look.

"Hold still for me. Can you do that?"

She nods.

"Good girl."

She bites that fucking bottom lip again when I say it. But she holds still as I start to draw again. Don't think too much about how well she responded to being called "good girl," Noah.

She wants to laugh and squirm but after a few minutes she relaxes. Fifteen minutes later I'm happy with the little design.

"All done."

Livvy sits up and looks at the "tattoo" I gave her.

"Going biblical, huh?" She chuckles.

It's a snake twisting around an apple with rippling scales, its fangs piercing the flesh of the fruit. I'm proud of it for a quick piece.

"I like it," she says, taking the marker from my fingers. "My turn."

"I don't think there's anywhere for you to draw except for my face. Unless you want me to take off my clothes."

Her eyes widen and her cheeks darken. I probably shouldn't have said it. I gave myself a half-chub. But she cools her expression and tugs my hand to her, turning it over to my bare palm.

"Unless you'd rather I draw on your ass?" she says, extra sassy.

My turn to try not to blush. "Next time."

She pulls my hand closer. I scoot along with it to accommodate her, sitting very close now by her side. She rests it on her knee and starts drawing.

"Don't look," she says, shooting me a glare.

I chuckle. "Fine." I look around the room and out the windows, her fingers soft as she holds my hand in place.

I don't know how long it took me before I came back around, my gaze falling on her and staying there, but they haven't left. Nothing else is as interesting as watching her eyelashes flutter against her cheeks or the way the tiniest tip of her tongue is sticking out from between her lips.

"All right. I'm done. You can look now." She lifts her face to the light, a golden glow about her. "What do you think?"

I look at my palm. She's drawn a scorpion with detailed legs and pinchers, the tail starting to curl up my thumb.

"That's a rad drawing. Did you choose it because I'm a Scorpio?"

She smiles, nodding as she tucks some hair behind her ear. I lean down and pull the pant leg of my sweats up to reveal the scorpion tattoo I have on the back of my calf.

"Did you design that one?" she asks.

"No. But now I'm wishing you had. I like your drawing better." I drop my pant leg and sit back.

"Really?"

"Seriously. You're so talented. What is it you want to do? With your art, I mean?"

She looks past me, then down at her hands. "I don't know. I'm supposed to have figured that out by now, right?"

I shrug. "Not necessarily."

She looks up. "All I know is I want to see my art hanging. I want other people to see it. To be moved by it. To want to buy it. To like it enough to come see it in a gallery. Maybe to have a permanent place in a gallery. I don't know…" she trails off and I want to hug her. Touch her.

"Well, while you're working on getting there, if you want to learn to tattoo, I'd be happy to take you on as an apprentice. You'd make more money than the front desk. It's not a paint brush, but it is an art."

"It is." She nods, her eyes trailing slowly over the tattoo sleeves on my arms and it's like I can almost feel the touch of her gaze, warm and curious, on my skin.

"Or," I say, swallowing, "you could do piercing if you wanted. That's what Taryn decided to do on the side, and now she's by far the best piercer in the shop."

"So, if I wanted my nipples pierced, you wouldn't do it?"

I choke. On nothing. My spit, maybe air.

"Do…do you want your nipples pierced?" I manage to get out. I can still picture her breasts and those perky pink nipples of hers. Just that split second image has me hard as fuck.

Fuck.

"Um, no. I don't think so." She laughs and it's a beautiful sound, light and airy and joyous and open. And when she stops, breathing heavily, it's just us, sitting on this couch, so close her knee is brushing my thigh.

"For the record," I say, "Taryn is a better piercer than I am, and I would refer anyone to her. But I would pierce your nipples if you wanted me to." I meant it to come out like a playful offer, but it came out like an oath.

"You would?" she whispers.

I nod. And I am not thinking about how soft and round her breasts are and wanting to know what her skin feels like there and how that pretty pink nipple would pebble under my touch. And I'm not noticing how her hip is pressed against mine and everything is quiet except for our breathing. And how the little vein in her neck is pulsing fast and how her pupils are dilated. Or that she's looking up at me, her face closer. Or how I seem to have leaned in as well.

The door to the apartment rattles and opens with high-pitched laughter and the jarring, clacking of footsteps on the concrete as Bex and Macy walk in the door, arms full of shopping bags.