Tease

  And how much I craved his doing them again.

  As though he could read my mind, his hands drifted, skimming my hips, moving up to my waist. My breath hitched. I sat a little straighter. He hesitated for just a heartbeat. And then continued over my stomach, stopping just below my breasts. His thumbs pushed against the bottom swells, lifting them higher. My nipples hardened. The satin of my bra felt abrasive against the tips and I wiggled a little on the seat of the bike.

  Suddenly the bike dipped a little with his weight. He sank down behind me, his thighs aligning with mine. Instantly, I felt warmer with his body behind me. He fit himself snugly against me. His lips grazed my ear, a teasing brush. I just had to turn my face and my lips could reach his.

  I didn’t move. My chest lifted high with deep breaths, thrusting my breasts out higher. His thumbs continued to drag back and forth against the undersides. I bit my lip to stop a moan from escaping, a small plea for him to stop tormenting me and just take me in his hands.

  He pressed closer against my back and that’s when I felt him against my bottom. The hard bulge of him prodded me and I clenched my teeth to stop myself from grinding against him. That was begging for trouble and I was already knocking at its door.

  I released the handlebars and quickly climbed off the bike. I slid my sweaty palms down my front and then brought shaky hands up to tuck my hair behind my ears. “I don’t think I’ll be riding one anytime soon.” At least I didn’t stammer the words. The way I shook on the inside, it was surprising.

  He sat there looking up at me, his eyes dark and heavy. “You don’t have to. Maybe you can just take a drive with me sometime. In the spring when it warms up a little.”

  Riding with him? As in sixty miles an hour with the wind blowing all around us and my arms wrapped around him. Just the idea left me feeling exhilarated. He made the offer so casually as he climbed off the bike and stood with one hand tucked halfway in his front pocket. Even crazier than that was the idea that he would still be hanging around me come spring.

  “Maybe.” I shuffled my feet toward the shed door. “I really need to get back now.”

  He followed me from the shed without trying to stop me. Not a touch or a kiss. I almost expected him to. What was all that on the bike if he wasn’t even going to try for more? Again, just more evidence that he wasn’t like any other guy I’d encountered. And even more confusing was that I didn’t know which emotion humming through me was stronger. Relief or disappointment.

  He watched me back out of the drive, still looking relaxed. When I pulled out onto the street and left his house behind, in my mind I could still see him standing there.

  I didn’t think I would ever close my eyes again without seeing him.

  Chapter 14

  I WAS WAITING FOR Pepper the following morning. It was close to nine when I heard her enter next door. I bumped the partially open adjoining door with my hip. She and Reece sat near her desk, sorting through a bag of bagels.

  She looked up. “Hey. Em!” Reece gave me a wave.

  She must have read something in my expression. Pepper approached me, holding half a bagel in her hand, her eyes bright with worry. “Are you okay?”

  “Yeah. Why wouldn’t I be?”

  She slid an uncertain look to Reece. “Well, last night Logan saw you and was a little worried that maybe you were in over your head—”

  “Logan? Reece’s man-whore brother? He was worried I was in over my head?” I pressed a hand to my chest.

  “Yes!” Pepper’s eyes flashed. “If Logan thought the situation was bad, then the situation was bad.”

  “Uh, hello?” Reece waved his bagel, his expression grim. “I’m right here. Can you not call my brother a whore anymore?”

  “Sorry, baby.” Pepper smoothed a hand over his shoulder.

  “I just would like to know why you thought it was a good idea to text Shaw?” I tossed my arms out wide on either side of me. “Why? Is there something I should know?”

  Pepper glanced at me and then looked at Reece searchingly.

  Reece looked at me, his stare unflinching. “Is it that hard to figure out? The guy is into you.”

  “So that is supposed to mean—”

  “He gives a shit about you, Em,” he said, clearly having no trouble being direct with me. “Maybe that should mean something. He’s a helluva lot better for you than those other losers you waste your time—”

  “Emerson.” Pepper’s voice cut in, which was a good thing. I was about to go off on her boyfriend for lecturing me about what kind of guy I chose to spend time with. Pepper continued. “I know you like Shaw. I’ve seen you with him. He’s . . . different. You’re different when you’re around him.”

  I wrenched my gaze off Reece’s hard-eyed stare. He looked at me like I was the bad one here. Like I was screwing his friend over. What did they want from me? I couldn’t be like Pepper. I couldn’t just have a boyfriend and fall in love.

  I stared levelly at Pepper. “I love you, girl, but you gotta stop this matchmaking business. Both of you.” I glanced at Reece and then back at her. “It’s not going to work.”

  She gave a single nod, but she still had that worried look. “Okay.”

  Okay. Good. I nodded, but the sense of relief I wanted didn’t come. No relief or satisfaction or whatever. The hollow feeling inside me only yawned deeper. “Thanks.” I waved at them both. “I’ll leave you alone now. Carry on.”

  Pepper glanced at her clock. “I thought we were going to walk to class together.”

  “No, I’m going in early to work on my stuff for the showcase.”

  Pepper’s eyes brightened. “That’s right. That’s coming up. When is it?”

  “Next Friday.”

  Pepper glanced at Reece. “It’s a big university art show that Em’s in.” She looked back at me. “Are you ready for it?”

  “I think so.” My mind drifted to the painting of Shaw and I fidgeted. Professor Martinelli made it clear she expected to see it in the exhibit. It was hard enough putting anything I created on display, but that painting? It would feel like I was baring myself up there on that wall. Like I was on display. But Martinelli had made it clear my grade would suffer if I left it out.

  “What time?” Pepper asked. “Georgia and I want to go.”

  “Yeah. I’d like to see your work.” Reece nodded. “Maybe I can take the night off.”

  “Um.” I bit my lip. “It’s not a big deal. You guys don’t have to come.”

  They exchanged glances before looking back at me. “Why not? Georgia and I went last year—”

  “I know,” I cut in. “It’s just not a big deal. You saw that last year.”

  “I thought it was awesome. I loved that painting you did of the dog waiting outside the Java Hut.”

  I smiled in memory. That was one of my favorites, too. I’d snapped the picture on my phone of a dog wearing a jaunty little neck scarf outside the coffeehouse.

  “Why don’t we meet outside afterward?” I suggested. The last thing I wanted was for them to see the painting of Shaw. Even though it was just his eyes, they would probably recognize him and that was just too mortifying to contemplate. “Really,” I insisted. “It’s no big deal. You went last year. It’s just more of the same.”

  “I want to go. I would like to see what you’ve been working on. And don’t you want someone there?” The instant the words were out there I could see the apprehension in Pepper’s eyes. Fear that she had somehow hurt me with the reminder that I had no one to attend on my behalf. No family that cared enough to come out and support me. Last year family members had crowded the exhibit, all there to support their loved one.

  “No. I’m fine. Really.” I was accustomed to the lack of family in my life.

  “If you’re sure,” Pepper said, but she still sounded unconvinced. “I really would like to go though.”

  “Pepper,” I chided. “I’m sure you can think of a lot more entertaining things to do. Like tie this hot boyfriend of yours u
p to a bed or something.”

  Reece laughed.

  “Em!” Pepper looked shocked even though I knew there wasn’t much that could shock her these days. Not since she and Reece had hooked up. They couldn’t keep their hands off each other. I was surprised they ever left the bedroom.

  “Just let us know if you change your mind,” Reece said, rubbing Pepper’s back. “We want to be there for you.”

  I nodded, but I knew I wouldn’t change my mind. There was no way anyone could see that painting.

  ON MONDAY NIGHT, SHAW came to my room. It was a little after eight. I had just gotten home from study group. On top of Friday’s showcase, I had a test coming up in my Medieval Art class. To make matters worse, Mom was calling again. I answered her calls, worried that if I didn’t talk to her she would just show up in my dorm again. So I endured her recriminations. She went back and forth from accusations to pleas. She even tried bribing me with a trip to Europe.

  I had enough on my plate without Shaw showing up. I stared at him through the peephole as he knocked. Three steady knocks. He waited, glancing left and right down the hall, one arm braced along the wall near the door. Holding my breath, I appreciated the square cut of his jaw, the strong line of his nose. The well-carved lips that haunted me still. Everything inside me lurched and responded to the sight of him. Sexy as hell. I bit my lip.

  “Emerson, you in there?”

  I held silent. Compressing my lips, I watched him until he turned away. The sound of his tread faded. In the distance, I heard the ding of the elevator. Releasing the breath I’d been holding, I collapsed against the door, sliding down its length until I was sitting on the floor. At least Georgia wasn’t here. I didn’t need her witnessing me coming apart over a guy. Especially Shaw. Shaw with his eyes always on me, watching and intent, devouring. Shaw with his shirt off, his body hard, muscles rippling under his tanned skin. He was beautiful. The most beautiful guy I’d ever seen, and it wasn’t just his looks. He’d be beautiful twenty years from now. It was a quality he had. A confidence. It was in his voice when he talked about Adam. When he showed me his bikes. When he told me I needed to pursue my art and screw a desk job. And it was in his eyes when he looked at me. In his hands when they touched me.

  I swallowed. I’d clearly let it go too far if I was feeling this way.

  Lying in bed that night, I was almost asleep when my phone buzzed beside me. I reached for it on the shelf that edged the bed and stared at the lit screen in the dark.

  Shaw: Hey. I stopped by to see you

  I bit my lip and stroked the screen with my thumb, almost like I was touching him.

  I stared at his words, debating replying or just letting his text go unanswered.

  It was as if I could hear the deep purr of his voice. I clutched the phone in both hands and held it close to my chest, at war with myself. I wanted to reply. I wanted to pick up the phone and tell him to come over. But I resisted. After a few minutes, the phone vibrated in my hands. I glanced down anxiously, feeling like a thirteen-year-old girl with her first call from a boy.

  Shaw: Good-night, Emerson

  BY WEDNESDAY SHAW QUIT texting me altogether, and something in me died a little because I knew he wouldn’t anymore. He’d given up. And why shouldn’t he? I’d put up all my walls so that he would do just that.

  I went to class, spent every free moment I had at the studio. Ate. Slept. Staying busy helped. Until my mind strayed to him. At night it was impossible not to think of him. Alone in my bed, staring into the dark, I should have dropped into a dead sleep. Instead I thought about him. I thought about how I couldn’t stop thinking about him and how that had never happened to me before.

  Jeff from the Java Hut texted me. At eleven thirty on Thursday night. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out what he wanted. I read between his simple words and knew he was looking for a hookup.

  It would have been easy. Undemanding and straightforward. He was attractive. We’d hooked up before, but now all I could see was Shaw in my mind. Was this how other girls felt when they got themselves all worked up and desperate over a boy? When they let themselves get used and trampled on? No thanks.

  On Friday morning, I was walking to the campus bookstore, which happened to be located across the street from the Grapevine. I stared at the restaurant for a moment before moving to the crosswalk. Before I could even consider what I was doing, I was hurrying across the street and diving inside. The delicious aroma of fresh-baked bread greeted me, but I wasn’t interested in food.

  To my relief, Beth’s was the first face I spotted, standing behind the hostess’s podium.

  “Emerson,” she greeted, her manner as stilted as the last time . . . once I had made it known I was friends with Shaw. “Good to see you again. How many in your party—”

  I held up a hand, cutting her off. “I came here to talk to you.”

  She blinked, and then glanced around uneasily as if she might call for backup.

  “Just hear me out.” I inhaled, determined to do this. I had to do this. For Shaw. “I know you don’t know me, but I—Shaw and I—” Hell, what was I supposed to say? “Shaw’s my friend.” Forget the fact that he had stopped texting and calling me. Shaw was special. He deserved . . . hell, he deserved everything. He deserved better than me. He deserved to have his family in his life.

  I could see it all stretching ahead. Beth inviting him to her wedding. Embracing him back into the fold. Maybe he’d fall in love with one of her bridesmaids. A girl named Amy who liked to fish. She’d bait her own hook and they would fish off the dock at his lake. A year from now, he wouldn’t even remember the color of my eyes.

  God, I hated Amy.

  I swallowed and shoved this imaginary girl from my mind. Moistening my lips, I said in a firm voice, “I care about Shaw.”

  It was like a shutter fell over her eyes. “Did he send you—”

  “No. No, he would never do that, and if you really knew him, then you would know that.” Something flickered in her eyes. I stepped closer, softening my voice. “I think you do know that. In fact, he’d probably be pissed if he knew I was talking to you.”

  She ducked her head and sighed. When she looked back up, moisture glimmered in her eyes. “What do you want from me?”

  I’d come this far. I couldn’t stop now. “I can’t even begin to know what you’ve gone through. What you and your family have gone through, but Shaw . . . Shaw’s your family, too. You’re not the only one who lost Adam. Shaw lost him, too. And he blames himself. He feels responsible for Adam being there. You not talking to him, cutting him out of your life . . . he thinks he deserves that. He thinks he deserves to be alone. And you know he doesn’t.”

  Beth stared at me, saying nothing.

  I stepped back, wiping my damp palm against my thigh. “And that’s all I needed to say.”

  I turned and headed for the door.

  “Emerson.”

  I stopped and looked over my shoulder. Beth took one step after me, her gaze sharp and penetrating. “He’s not alone anymore. Is he? He has you.”

  I stared at her for a moment, waiting for the denial to come hard and swift. But I couldn’t say it. I couldn’t deny her words.

  “You care about him,” she added.

  Emotion rose up in my throat, making speech impossible. Even if I wanted to respond. Even if I could.

  Turning, I pushed through the door and stepped out into the cold.

  BY THE TIME FRIDAY night arrived, I was a wreck. I couldn’t stop thinking about Shaw. Seeing Beth had only made it worse. I ached when I remembered his mouth on mine. The way his eyes looked at me. I thought about when he showed me the bike he was building. Because he thought I would appreciate it. Because he cared about my opinion. Every once in a while I pulled out my phone and read the last text from him.

  It didn’t help that I spent all my free time putting the finishing touches on his painting, concentrating on the memory of his face. I named it A Winter’s Morning.

/>   The showcase was held in the Student Memorial Center the same as last year. Lots of wall space and room for easels. It was probably more crowded than the year before, which only made sense. We had more students in the art program this year.

  I smiled and made nice as Gretchen introduced me to her parents and grandparents. They’d traveled all the way from Colorado to be here. I mingled, but stayed near my work. Professor Martinelli stressed the importance of being available for discussion.

  A Winter’s Morning elicited a great deal of attention. This was both gratifying and troubling. It felt like me hanging up there. It wasn’t me, I knew. No, it was worse than that. It was Shaw. How I saw him. How he affected me.

  “I’m very proud of you, Emerson.” My face warmed as Professor Martinelli stopped to stand beside me. “Outstanding work. If you don’t mind . . . I have a friend who owns a gallery in Boston. I’d like to show her some of your work.” She pointed at my canvas. “Especially this one.”

  “Really?”

  She nodded, studying the canvas thoughtfully. “If you keep this up, I think you have quite the career ahead of you.” Winking, she moved away, her bangle bracelets clinking.

  I was floating, elated from her praise until I realized she wanted me to produce more work like A Winter’s Morning. Work that ripped me open and came from someplace inside that I really didn’t want to keep visiting. I didn’t know if I could keep this up. If I could do it again. I’d shut myself off from emotions for so long, from anything that felt too raw.

  My smile felt pained and brittle after that. I maintained my composure, smiling and talking. I accepted compliments and answered questions.

  And then I saw him across the crowded room.

  Not twenty yards away. He was leaning against the wall, wearing his leather biker jacket, a thin dusting of snow on his shoulders. He was so much darkness against the white wall. A black T-shirt peeped out from his dark jacket. His dark hair. And those eyes.

  He gaze was intent. But not on me. On the painting. The painting of him.