Promise Me This Page 4

  They both nodded but still looked slightly unsure, so I kept going.

  “If you want to bring a guest, limit it to one, so your artist can truly concentrate on giving you some great ink.”

  “Got it,” the tall guy said.

  “So it really does hurt?” one of the girls asked in a high-pitched voice that grated on my nerves.

  “Pretty much, yeah,” Emmy said, shrugging. Like me, she thought it was best to be honest about the pain. “Pinches and stings, but you get used to it after a while. And you’ll love it when all is said and done.”

  When they walked out, Emmy said, “Let’s hope they don’t tip for shit.”

  That was Emmy’s huge pet peeve. Tattoos were pricey and people could get stingy on tips, but these guys deserved them, especially if they worked on you long and hard.

  When Emmy came back around the desk, I showed her the appointment schedule for the rest of the day and started packing up my things.

  “I’m thinking about asking Nate to help me with my bridge project.”

  “Help you how?” Emmy said, swiping some of the red locks that had come loose from her elastic tie off her cheek. I’d kill for that hair color, but even a bottle made for a meager reproduction of it, and believe me, I’ve tried.

  “I’ve decided to take a drive up to the town of Bridgeway. I was hoping since Nate knows so much about it, he’d tag along with me for the day.”

  Emmy narrowed her eyes at me. “Why do you seem nervous? You’ve spent time on the road with him before, right? So no big deal.”

  I wanted to tell her the big deal was that little blip on my radar from the other night. How I let my imagination run wild about him after I saw him with that girl in the bathroom.

  But I was being silly, none of that changed anything between us. We were still friends. He would go on to screw other girls and drive his daddy’s expensive cars and I would spend time with him when all of these goofballs got together.

  But that was just it. Nobody else would be coming along on this trip. It would just be him and me. For an entire day. At least at the concert last summer, there had been a large group of us in the car.

  Except the large group had consisted of all couples, so Nate and I were forced to hang out together more times than not. We’d managed to have a great time.

  “Yeah, you’re right,” I said quietly.

  Then I just went for it. “But the other night, I caught Nate in Zach’s bathroom with a girl.”

  “I heard you egging him on, but I didn’t know what it was about,” she said. “You know that’s not any real news flash, right? Were they doing it or something?”

  “No,” I said. Damn, wonder what that would have been like to walk in on. “I’d just never seen him in action before. He hides it pretty well.”

  “So it could have been way more awkward.”

  “Yeah, but instead it was kind of . . . I don’t know. Erotic,” I said, then cringed. Did I really just admit to that? “I’m always ragging on him for being so square, but the way he was . . . oh, just forget it.”

  Emmy’s eyes were wide. “No, tell me.”

  I shrugged because I wasn’t sure if I could even put my finger on it. “Something about those lips and his strong hands.”

  “Yeah?” she said looking past me, as if trying to picture it. “I think Nate’s always had a thing for you.”

  “Oh, come on.”

  “Sure, you guys are friends and you joke around a lot,” she said and I thought about whether that joking was more like flirting, but I had never really thought so. “I think some guys might be intimidated by you because you’re fierce and superhot.”

  “Okay, whatever,” I said. “I think you’re the superhot one.”

  Emmy had creamy white skin against that gorgeous red hair and a simple tattoo on her ankle, which had helped her seal the deal for this job.

  “Besides, I’m not even Nate’s type,” I said. “And he’s not mine. No tattoos or piercings . . . all of those hard muscles.”

  Emmy raised her eyebrows. “Not that you’ve noticed, huh?”

  I bit my lip to keep a smile from forming. “He never takes girls seriously, anyway.”

  “He takes you seriously, Jessie. But okay, whatever you say,” she said, with a tiny smirk hanging from her lips. “So you should have no trouble asking him to ride with you since you guys are just friends. Get on it already.”

  “I will.”

  I pulled out my phone and scrolled to Nate’s number.

  Want to go on a road trip with me?

  I waited what felt like forever for his response. Emmy went to set up Cory’s station for his next appointment.

  Him: What do you mean?

  Me: Remember the covered bridges?

  Him: Yeah . . .

  Me: I’ve decided that’s what my photography project’s gonna be. So would you want to drive up there with me and kind of . . . show me around?

  Him: When?

  Me: Whenever we can make it happen. I’m off this Saturday but you might be busy.

  Another long pause while I chipped some of the gunmetal nail polish off my fingers. Crap, maybe this was too uncomfortable for him.

  Him: I can go this Saturday.

  Me: Coolness! Thanks so much. If we leave early in the morning, we can make it back by nightfall.

  That way he wouldn’t feel like I was trying to stay somewhere with him overnight. I didn’t want any more awkwardness between us, though I was pretty sure by now it was only on my end.

  Him: Sounds like a plan, Blue.

  Me: Give me your address and I’ll pick you up.

  Him: You sure? I can drive.

  Me: My idea. I’ll drive.

  Him: If you insist. I’ll make you a coffee for the road then—what kind do you like?

  Me: You have one of those fancy-ass Keurig machines, don’t you?

  Him: Maybe.

  Me: Figures. I just like regular straight-up coffee, one cream, one sugar—will that work?

  Him: Absolutely. I’ll make sure not to fancy up your drink.

  I smiled at him despite myself. He always had a way of making me feel lighter inside.

  Me: You gonna bring a bungee cord so you can jump off one of those bridges?

  Him: Don’t tempt me.

  Me: : )

  Him: Is that something you’d ever consider doing?

  Me: Never say never.

  Him: Note to self—bring bungee cord.

  Me: I might just have to change your name to DD.

  Him: DD?

  Me: Daredevil

  Him: I approve. You can start using it immediately.

  Me: Give it time, Square. See you this weekend!

  I sat there grinning at my screen, forgetting that I needed to get my butt moving.

  “So, what’d he say?” Emmy asked, coming around the counter and startling me from my thoughts.

  “He’ll do it,” I said, almost reluctantly, wondering what in the hell I was getting myself into.

  Chapter Six

  Nate

  I pushed the button on my expensive coffee machine. If Jessie could see me now, she’d definitely think that I was living up to my nickname.

  I put her no-frills straight medium roast arabica coffee in a sleek to-go tumbler and then made my cappuccino drink. She’d probably rag on me for that one, too.

  Rinsing out a couple of cups in the sink, I made a mental note to clean the apartment later. Housing was tight around campus but I finally found myself a decent place. I liked living on my own, and I obviously could afford it, but I was thankful for what I had. I knew that Jessie rented a basement unit from one of her mother’s friends.

  I understood she lived off of a strict budget and could only afford a couple of classes at a time, but that was only from piecemeal conversations I had gathered over the past few months.

  As I secured the top on the travel mug¸ I thought about how glad I was this wasn’t a weekend my cousin Kai was coming up to see his g
irlfriend Rachel, because we usually hung out for a bit. My extended family knew my father was somewhat of a prick but I wasn’t sure if they knew the extent of his bullshit. We hid it well and Kai never asked any questions.

  I’ve had fantasies of one day confronting my father, college tuition be damned.

  I wanted to knock the motherfucker out. But again, it was that fantasy of losing control that really ate away at me and scared the living shit out of me.

  I heard a knock and was surprised that Jessie had entered my building. I figured she’d just honk for me to come out. I cursed at myself for not straightening up better.

  I swung open the door and she breezed right on in. “Sorry, figured you’d let me use the bathroom before we got on the road. You know us chicks and having to pee.”

  It was a halfhearted dig about the other night at the bar and her eyes flashed at me, her lips quirked up in mischief.

  I held her gaze for too long before I said, “Hallway. First door on the right.”

  After she traipsed off in her worn and ripped jeans, I imagine following her into my bathroom and pushing her up against the counter, taking her from behind. I scrubbed my hands over my face trying to shake those kinds of thoughts from my head.

  I needed to knock it off already—we were just friends. She’d never go for my bullshit; in fact, she’d probably call me on it right away.

  But she’d admitted to being handcuffed at the bar. Maybe it’d been a terrible experience for her. Maybe she kicked the guy out straight after.

  When she stepped out of the bathroom, she wiped her hands down the front of her tight T-shirt and her face was flushed. What the hell? Had she been having the same thought?

  Yeah, right. Snap the hell out of it.

  She looked around the apartment, taking in my black leather couches and marble tables. I wanted to tell her I got them used but I kept my mouth sealed shut. Might as well play the part of the privileged college boy since that’s what she already thought of me.

  “Nice digs, Square. Thought you’d be less messy though,” she said, eyeing my pile of clothing in the corner, sans laundry basket.

  “Had I known you’d come bursting through the door, I might have picked up after myself a little better.”

  She grinned. “When a girl’s gotta pee, she’s gotta pee.”

  I tried not to follow that up with a retort, but I had to admit it felt comfortable having her in my apartment. Maybe I should invite her over to watch a movie sometime. But we weren’t that type of friends, were we?

  “Ready to hit the road?” I strolled to the kitchen island and lifted her travel mug. “I made you a tall arabica roast.”

  She grasped it from my fingers, her gaze sweeping past my fancy coffee machine on the counter, but keeping her lips sealed. “Thanks a bunch.”

  I followed her out the door to her used red Dodge Dakota truck. The fact that this girl drove this kind of car made me grin. “Nice ride.”

  “Thanks. It was my dad’s and after he . . .” she paused, her eyes clouding over before quickly clearing. “Died, I took it over. Saves me a car payment. And walking everywhere.”

  “I’m sorry to hear about your dad.” I said stepping into the truck. “Um, how long ago?”

  “About three years ago now,” she said, gripping the steering wheel.

  I couldn’t help thinking that I wished it had been my dad and not hers—seemed like she really missed her father, probably even had a decent relationship with him. Didn’t seem fair. That what was so shitty about life. It made no fucking sense.

  Then I felt guilty even wishing my dad dead. More so, I just wished him gone.

  “Sounds like you guys were close,” I said, wondering what the hell that even felt like.

  “Very.” She sighed. “He was a photographer, too. I also inherited his Hasselblad 500C/M, which is what I’m going to use to shoot this project.”

  She lifted up this cool vintage-looking black camera from her tote bag on the seat between us that was shaped like a square and had a turn handle I presumed was for advancing to the next picture.

  “My father taught me everything I know,” she said with what sounded liked awe in her voice. “You should have seen some of his photo spreads. Damn, he was good.”

  “That’s really cool . . . and special,” I said, as she put the car in drive and pulled out of the lot. “It also helps explain some of your tattoos.”

  She nodded. “Got any ink on you, Square?”

  “Nah.” I stared down at her forearm that had a roll of film inked on it and I got lost looking at her smooth flesh in between all the colorful artwork.

  When she lifted her arm to turn the wheel and head toward the freeway, I snapped out of it. “How does your dad’s camera compare to modern digital cameras?”

  “In my opinion?” she said, giving me a sidelong glance. “There’s no comparison. It uses one-twenty film which trumps thirty-five millimeter and the image quality is sweet.”

  She went radio silent after that, lost in her own thoughts—maybe about her father or about how she would shoot the bridges. I knew one thing for certain—a girl who was that passionate about vintage camera equipment was sexy as hell.

  I thought it would feel more awkward being around her, not only after that night at the bar, but also for us to be alone on the road. But it didn’t. I’d known her for a decent amount of time now and even though Bennett and pretty much every other guy who knew me initially thought that I wanted to get in her pants, I was able to quickly bat that idea down.

  I actually liked having her as a friend because she was refreshingly different. The families that ran in my parents’ circle were wealthy and the girls were mostly privileged and snobby. It was even more laughable that they’d want to be wild in the bedroom. They wouldn’t dream of tarnishing their image.

  I went to TSU, not only because of its engineering program, but also because I wanted to have a normal college experience in every way possible.

  And Jess was normal. Outside of her tattoos and colorful hair. Maybe normal wasn’t exactly the word. She was real. A real girl, with feelings and a strong voice and kick-ass ideas. I was too chickenshit to get close to a girl like that romantically, so I figured she was the coolest girl around to befriend.

  “Thanks for coming, by the way,” Jessie said. “You didn’t have to give up your Saturday for me.”

  “No problem,” I said. “The idea of getting away for a whole day actually sounded great.”

  “Got lots of pressures or something, Square?” she asked, the corner of her lip turning up. “What kind of stressors do you have in your life?”

  I looked over at her because I thought she was messing with me again. But she seemed genuinely interested.

  God, wouldn’t it be nice just once to unload all of my dark thoughts on someone. She might fling me out of the fucking car if she knew exactly what I’d fantasied about doing to her.

  “Just the usual,” I said. “School and work.” My internship was definitely challenging and I didn’t want to fuck it up, so I had to keep up with my classes and schoolwork, and get my head out of my ass.

  “What made you decide on engineering?” she asked. “Is that what your dad does?”

  Shit, she didn’t know me at all. She thought I was just some rich kid following in his daddy’s footsteps.

  “Hell no.” The words rushed form my lips before I could stop them and her eyebrows shot up. I rarely even spoke of my family, outside of my brother’s football schedule. I’d be missing his game today but that was fine by me. Sitting in the stands next to my parents and Luke’s new girlfriend, Anna, pretending to be a close family was actually a painful experience. Luke was like a God on the field, which only fed his already inflated ego, so my dad would have plenty to talk to Anna about.

  “My dad is a high-powered advertising executive,” I said through clenched teeth. It was difficult for me to talk about him without seething. “Now my brother, Luke? He’s already got an entry-level jo
b lined up at my father’s firm.”

  Jessie nodded, so I continued.

  “But me?” I said, resting my ankle on my knee and fiddling with my shoelace. “I’ve just always been different than the two of them.”

  Her gaze zeroed in on my laces as I wound the string around my finger, and then up to my eyes. “What do you mean?”

  Was I really that different? Or was I really just a ticking time bomb, waiting to detonate?

  “Let’s see,” I said, relaxing back into my seat. “They’re both very driven, natural-born leaders, but . . .”

  She nodded, waiting on me. “They can be total pricks . . . and cocky as shit.”

  Her hands braced the steering wheel like I had stunned her, but I couldn’t help myself.

  Besides, Jessie had met Luke on a couple of occasions up at the bar. He’d joke that he was slumming it to show up at Zach’s and he was usually with a girl or a couple of his boys from the team. He was mostly polite to my friends, given the manners my parents had instilled in both of us, but he was never especially friendly.

  Unless he was with the guys from the frat house. I partied with those dudes sometimes and probably went to too many of their parties. But I liked hanging with Bennett, Jessie, and their crew most of all. Probably because I didn’t have to pretend to be anybody—they didn’t require it of me.

  “It’s definitely true that you’re different from you’re brother, Nate,” she said in a low and soothing voice. Almost like she felt the need to talk me down. “And from what I’ve seen, that a good thing.”

  My eyes met hers and I gave a slow nod.

  “You’re not cocky. Except when you’re just messing around.” Then her lips quirked up. “Otherwise, you’re just a regular boy next door.”

  “I wouldn’t call me regular, sweetheart,” I said going for humor but falling flat. I just didn’t have it in me right then.

  “Oooh, Mr. Mysterious,” she said. “Does this have anything to do with jumping out of planes or . . . maybe some handcuffs?”

  My entire body grew warm. Time for a subject change.

  “What kind of CDs do you have in this rusty old ride?”

  Chapter Seven