“What?” I took a long swig from my water bottle as we settled onto a bench.
“After he used his Batman voice to declare his manhood. Then what?”
“Oh…well, nothing really. We’d already had enough serious conversation that appointment for, like, thirty tattoo sessions. There was some tension in the air for a minute, but he just put his head down and got back to work. We made small talk. He finished up this section after a few hours and I left.” I pointed out the shading on my leg.
“Well…that’s kind of a letdown.”
“Sorry I can’t entertain you with Real Housewives of the Tattoo Parlor or whatever, but I’m sure Renn and I are on the same page. We don’t want to say anything we can’t come back from.”
“Honestly, that’s too bad, doll. I’m really thinking he might be good for you.”
“Zach, we’ve been over this. I’ve told you I’m not ready. Sure, it feels good in the moment, but once I’m away from Renn and can look at things from a distance—the situation is just so fucked. And he’s still twenty-three.”
“Yes, but…he’s a man.” Zach did his best attempt at a Batman voice, but he sounded more like Tom Waits.
“Shut up, dork. I brought you here to make sure I stayed sensible, not to talk me into doing something I definitely should not do. I admit I’m attracted to him. I’ll even admit that I enjoy it a little. But I know myself. I’m not prepared for more.”
“I’m just saying, you seem…I guess more awake would be the way to describe it…than I’ve seen you since you got back. And it sounds like you and Renn have already crossed a line. You’re more than artist and client, based on everything you’ve said.”
“Zach, as my friend, if you truly want what’s best for me, I’m asking you not to push it. Please.”
“Fine.” Zach went back to openly ogling the runners passing by before continuing a minute later. “Doll, I just don’t think you should write the idea off completely. Take the time you have left on this tattoo to decide. Maybe you can start something after you’re no longer his client, when there’s less ambiguity. Maybe you’ll be ready then.”
“It’s not gonna happen. Even if he is a grown man…I’m still a disaster.”
CHAPTER
Three
Early December 2014
“Ihad to pulla ten-hour at the bar last night. And I’ve had a headache all day.” I slumped in the passenger seat of Zach’s car. “Maybe we should do this another time?” He had asked me a few days ago to attend this party, and I’d reluctantly agreed, but now I was second-guessing myself.
Zach sighed in exasperation, turning to give me alook, but not saying anything. He had driven us into the bowels of the Hollywood Hills, insisting I wear the slinky eggplant-hued cocktail dress I’d hidden in the back of my closet. The gunmetal-gray stilettos already causing my toes to go numb were the first heels I’d put on since Boston.
“I can’t believe you talked me into this outfit,” I said nervously as he pulled up to the curb. The closest street parking he could find was a quarter mile from our destination, so we were walking the rest of the way.
“Think of it as your armor, since you’re finally venturing out into the land of the living.” Zach waved his arm around the nondescript rich-people-live-here street, as though to point out the wonders of overly manicured hedges and decorative streetlamps.
“I don’t want armor. I want to be able to feel my feet.”
“Well, sacrifices must be made for beauty.” We arrived in front of a beige stucco mansion as Zach continued his pep talk. “Just try, doll. You barely get out of our apartment. I didn’t drag your ass across the country to watch you tend bar or sit at home every night. Plus, you look super-hot, thanks to your genius stylist.”
I knew Zach wanted me to own my look, but I just wasn’t comfortable with this yet. I didn’t feel like a hot girl at a party. More like a toddler playing dress-up. But I supposed I had to start somewhere.
“I appreciate the kick in the ass, Zach. I guess I’ve gotten so used to standing still that it’s hard to move forward toward whatever’s next.”
“Well, what’s next right now is this party. Let’s see how it goes. Also, youknowwhy I want to be here.”
“Yeah.” I knew. It was the main reason I’d agreed to come.
We followed some other guests on an illuminated pathway to the backyard. “Don’t think of it as coming to a party,” Zach reasoned. “Think of it as doing a solid for me. I need my wing woman. Anyway, this place is lit.”
“Don’t say ‘lit.’ You sound like a jackass.”
“I think you mispronounced badass.”
I grinned. “Sure.”
