Her cheeks flush. Her tongue slides over her lips as her eyes glide over my body.
It's an I want to fuck you look.
I grab the nearest distraction. "Still say you're wasting your time with this class."
The lust in her eyes fades to something I can't place. "I still say you don't know what it's like to start a business from scratch."
That's fair.
"Without rich parents to fall back on."
"I haven't taken their money since—"
"Who paid your tuition?"
"You want me to admit I have advantages having wealthy parents?"
She nods.
"Of course I do. And, yeah, there's a safety to knowing they'll bail me out of shit. But I haven't taken money from them since I graduated."
"I like working at Inked Hearts."
"Forever?"
"Until I'm ready to leave. Not until you think I'm ready." Her voice gets defensive.
My fingers curl around her wrist. "You're right."
"I am?"
"Yeah. I shouldn't push so hard. But you're so fucking amazing, Leigh. I hate seeing you waste your time."
"Even if it means I'm in your life more?"
"Even then."
"Oh. Well. Thanks, I guess. But drop it."
"All right. I won't tell you to leave."
"Good."
"You can start designing while you work at Inked Hearts. You can moonlight forever."
She shoots me a get real look. "That isn't dropping it."
"We made a deal. One month of you taking clients."
"And?"
"And advertising. We posted on three forums."
"I'm aware."
"You get any interest?"
"I may have had some."
"Leigh—"
"One person. That's all."
"You have to take it."
"Maybe."
"You already agreed to take it." Though that isn't going to buy me shit. If Leighton doesn't want to do something, she won't. End of story.
"But…" She takes a long sip of her coffee. "What if they hate my work?"
"They won't."
"What if they do?"
"You're amazing."
"You're amazing. You still have unsatisfied customers from time to time."
That's true. Sometimes, you never manage to communicate with someone no matter how hard you try. "Give them a refund and refer them to someone else."
"Maybe."
"They'll love it. I promise."
"What if you're wrong?"
"I'll tattoo bigger than Frank above my dick."
She laughs. "You will not."
"Will too."
"No, I can't allow you to mar your perfect body. But… Oh. How about this? You have to wear your glasses to work for a month."
Fuck, that is a horrifying idea, as far as mildly horrifying ideas go. "All right. Fine." I offer my hand.
She shakes. But she doesn't look triumphant. More scared.
"We should celebrate this. And you finishing your class." I want to celebrate her twenty-four seven. I want to celebrate everything she does.
"Maybe. Penny's party is the next day."
"You have it memorized?"
"Yeah. What's with having a joint bachelor, bachelorette party?"
"It's an excuse to get drunk."
She laughs. "But isn't the whole idea of a bachelor party so you can lament how awful it is to be tied to one woman forever?"
"You're asking me?"
"You are a man."
"All I wanted was to be tied to her forever."
Her eyes turn down. "And now?"
"I want that with someone. One day."
"With her?"
"Fuck no." The light turns green. I focus on the road. Two lanes all full of cars. Bright blue sky. Brown lawns and beige store fronts. "Someone else. Someone I can trust."
"Are you ready to trust someone?"
"I don't know."
"You're honest with me."
"I try."
Her fingers brush my wrist. "That means a lot."
"Same for you. I mean me. I mean—"
"I know." She traces the lines of the ink on my forearm. "I think I trust you more than I trust anyone."
"Yeah?" Traffic stops me. I turn to her. Stare into those blue-green eyes. She's back to the Leighton everyone knows—dark makeup, fierce hair, tight dress, I'm friendly until you fuck with me smile.
But there's something in her eyes.
A promise of more.
Or maybe a plea for it.
Or maybe I'm imaging shit.
I don't know how any of this works anymore.
A car honks behind us.
"Oh. Ryan." Leighton motions to the road.
Traffic is zooming. I hit the gas. Focus on driving the dozen blocks to school.
I pull up to a side street.
She lifts her bag into her lap. "Is it a fancy party?"
"Dean's wearing a suit."
"You have one?"
Somebody behind us honks. We're parked in the loading zone. We're the assholes fucking with the flow of traffic.
But I can't bring myself to drive away.
I shake my head.
"You want my help picking one out?"
"Yeah. Thanks."
"Saturday. After work." She pushes the door open, slides out, sets her bag on her shoulder. "I'll see you tomorrow, Ryan."
"You too."
I watch her walk away.
I think about her every second of my drive home.
A ten-mile run does jack shit to clear my head.
Leighton isn't gonna be mine.
Hell, as soon as this is over, she's gonna be someone else's.
I need to deal with that.
Whatever it takes.
Chapter Twenty-One
Leighton
I hold up a powder blue suit. "Color isn't going to kill you."
Ryan's hair falls in front of his eyes as he shakes his head.
"Really?" I wave the menswear back and forth. "This is fatal?"
"I'm not going to an eighties prom."
I point to the black slacks folded over his arm. "It's a beach wedding."
"You ever see me wear anything but black?"
"Once you wore grey."
"Black shirt that got faded."
"I've seen your closet."
"No shit. I gave you a drawer."
"In your black dresser, yes. Next to your black desk. And your black sheets. And your black blackout curtains. And if there were black lights that weren't actually purple stoner lights, I'm sure you'd have those."
"Black absorbs light," he deadpans.
The joke knocks me off course. It warms my chest. Sends butterflies to my stomach. "So not my point."
"Yeah." He chuckles. "But the truth."
"You have non-black clothes in there."
"Prove it."