From the Inside Out: The Compilation (Scorned, Jealousy, Dylan, Austin) (17 page)

I run up the stairs taking them two at a time and burst into my place. Stripping my suit off, I drop my clothes as I rush to the bathroom and start the shower. Invincible. I feel invincible.

All because of her.

She looked so fucking gorgeous in that dress.

I step under the spray.

Her body even more incredible.

I scrub my body with soap, drenching my head in the process.

Once I set my eyes on Jules, I couldn’t take them off her.

She’s not officially taken.
Thank God.
I freaked when I thought Barker was going to propose, but he didn’t.

I wash my hair.

His mistake. I won’t make that same mistake twice. I now know what I’ve been missing. She looked edible tonight in that dress and fuck hot shoes. I wanted to drag her into the bathroom and fuck her like I used to. I wonder if she remembers how we used to fuck.

I grab my dick… Leaning forward, my palm goes flat against the tile as my other hand continues.

“Jules!” I call her name while coming hard.

MY KNOCK ALERTS
her to my presence, though the door is open.

Jacqueline looks up and smiles. “Hey Dylan, come on in and shut the door.”

“You summoned,” I reply, sitting down in front of her desk.

“I thought we should talk about dinner last night,” she says, her smile faltering a bit.

“I had a good time. Did you?”

She stands, brushing her hair behind her shoulders. Walking around the desk, she leans against it in front of me, very close. I know she wants me. She’s not subtle, except when it comes to the details. I think that was obvious to Jules last night while Jacqueline was hitting on her boyfriend.

“How do you think it went overall?” She lengthens her legs out and crosses them at the ankles. The action puts her knees between my legs.
Obvious.

I sit up straighter, putting just a little distance between us. “I think it went well and I think the client had a good time.”

She remarks, “Jules was offish, don’t you think?”

“No, not really.”

“I didn’t get a good vibe from her. Like with the gift. Do you think she really liked it or was just saying that?”

I chuckle, surprised I’m having this conversation right now, a conversation about Jules
and her boyfriend.
This is really fucked up. “I think she reacted normal to receiving a gift from a total stranger who was trying to suck up to her boyfriend.”

“Dylan!”

“It’s true and you know it.”

She stands, offended by my accusation. Apparently calling her out hurts her feelings. “We may be friends, but soften the delivery next time.”

“Sorry,” I say, shrugging. “But I do think you got an appropriate reaction from her. Do I think she’s cold? Um, she wasn’t last night. I thought she was quite charming actually. We had great conversation over dinner.”

Twirling her hair around a finger, she says, “She seemed attached, too attached, like really clingy to Austin considering they’ve only been together for five months. Don’t you think?” I’m starting to get pissed. I don’t want to talk about Jules and Austin. I should leave. I stand, but she steps forward. “Don’t go yet.”

My tone is terse, more than I mean, but I’m over this conversation. “I thought dinner went well—”

“I think we should invite them out again. You know, double.”

“That makes no sense. You and I are not dating.”

“I just need a little more time with her and I know we can become good friends.”

“Why do you want this so bad, Jacqueline? Are you trying to be chummy with her to get to Austin? Save yourself the trouble. I saw how he looked at her, how he touched her.” My voice involuntarily rises. “For fuck’s sake, I thought he was proposing last night. He’s in love with her.”

Jacqueline walks back around her desk and sits in her large leather chair, crossing her arms over her chest, and smirking. “Well, well, Mr. Somers, unless I’m completely mistaken, that sounds like jealousy I hear in your voice?”

I shift uncomfortably. “This is pointless. You’re trying to get a man that only cares for one woman—”

“But who does that woman care for? You two sure did seem caught up in some intimate conversati—”

“That’s because you effectively blocked us out of yours while making the moves on Austin. I was being polite to his date, so she didn’t have to watch that play out.”

I turn toward the door, reaching it in four long strides.

“So no double then?” she asks to my back.

I laugh, then leave.

I ENTER THE
gallery behind a small group, blending in while looking around for Jules. I don’t see her, but realize she’ll be busy tonight anyway. I walk into the other room. The lights are dimmed low, spotlights focused on the walls. I take a glass of red from the wine table. Standing off to the side, I look over the space.

Jules is here. I see her, like a breathtaking angel in white tonight. Her legs are bare, the short dress showing her figure.
Fucking gorgeous.

I watch her as she laughs, then excuses herself from a couple she’s been chatting with. She hasn’t seen me, but walks with purpose before getting sidetracked by a large painting. Stopping. Staring. I always loved watching her admire art. Even from over here, I can tell she’s let her mind drift somewhere else.
Transported.

I take a few steps closer just as a man comes up behind her. He has his hands on her waist, but she doesn’t react like his touch is unwelcome or unfamiliar. He’s not Austin or Brandon, but she knows him. I move even closer, emotions spinning in my chest. He whispers in her ear and she smiles, amused, tilting her head slightly away from him. He doesn’t notice, but I do. Maybe she doesn’t welcome him as much as he wants.

There’s something in her body language that tells me he’s flirting and she’s enjoying it, but nothing has ever happened. Maybe it’s in
his
body language—he’s trying too hard to be seductive. It doesn’t come natural to him. He wants her. That much is clear, but he’s barely legal looking. Jules Weston needs a man.

I move closer until I’m near, not wanting to invade her space. She turns, then our eyes connect.

She whispers to him, both of them wandering over after. With a smile on her face, she says, “Dylan,” as if it’s of no surprise that I’m here. We knew we’d see each other again when we said goodbye on her birthday.

“Jules.” I greet with a smile of my own. “You look beautiful.”

“Thank you. You came to the show?”

“I wanted to see the paintings you mentioned the other night.”

While touching the other guy on the shoulder, she says, “This is Jean-Luc, the artist.”

This guy is the artist?
Of course he is. He hasn’t had real passion but tries to capture it in his paintings. He doesn’t shake my offered hand. Yep, I called it. He’s immature.

Dropping my hand to my side, I look back to Jules who’s giggling. She always said artists were temperamental. She reaches forward and grabs my wrist unexpectedly, pulling me closer. “Have you seen this one yet?” She’s referring to the painting of the naked woman on the wall in front of me.

Jean-Luc is talking to some woman who flirts with him. His hands are on her just as they were on Jules minutes before. I’m relieved to find out he does that to everyone.

“It’s okay, but it lacks sincerity. It’s superficial stuff,” I note, glancing down at her. “Nothing real about the woman is exposed, just her flesh. Her eyes say nothing. A woman’s eyes always say more than her lips ever could.”

She’s staring at me, my eyes, my face, my mouth. Her eyes overtly lingering on my mouth, then she shifts. “That’s an incredibly sexy observation.”

I lean a little closer. When her eyes finally meet mine again, I whisper, “Do you want me to tell you what your eyes are saying right now?”

She blinks rapidly, then I feel her breath against my cheek paused to say something.

“That’s a painting of Jules.” I jerk up to see Jean-Luc referencing to the painting again.

I think my skepticism is showing when I ask, “That’s Jules?”

“Yes. I painted it about 5 months ago. She’s stunning and her body… I let my imagination run wild.”

With sarcasm, I add, “That’s why it lacks emotion. You painted for you not—”

“Dylan. Stop.” Jules takes my hand and pulls me away. I’d go with her willingly but I like her hand on mine too much. She drags me a few feet away… away from the ‘artist.’ “Dylan, please don’t upset him. He’s very talented and very sensitive.”

“He needs a dose of reality.”

She rolls her eyes but I see the smile in the corners of her mouth. “It’s abstract and you, my friend, are going to be thrown out of here with that attitude. It’s Jean-Luc’s night.” Her tone is playful, not threatening.

Nudging her, I ask with a smirk, “So I’m your friend now?”

Looking up at me, she tilts her head. “That’s all you got from that?”

“That’s all that matters,” I say, more serious than I intend. I don’t want to scare her, but she’s all that matters. That’s the truth.

“Oh, Dylan,” she sighs, looking around the gallery.

It’s getting busier, more crowded. She’ll have to leave me soon, so I need to act fast. “Say it, Jules.”

With her arms crossed in defiance, she says, “No.”

She’s such a tease. “Come
ooonnnn
… say it. Just for me. No one else has to hear.”

“I don’t know what you want from me.”

“You’re playing games.”

“Fine.” She leans in really close, lifts up on her toes and whispers, “You win. We’re friends.”

“Was that so hard?” I poke her playfully in the side, much like I used to when we were a couple. The ease between us right now is not lost either. I see it in her eyes. Jules is smiling from the inside out.

I reach into my pocket and pull the small box out, presenting it on my palm. “It was rude of me to not have a gift for you on your birthday. I thought I’d make up for it.” I step half a foot closer, almost touching, but not.

She reaches tentatively for the box and I try to lighten the mood. “I’m sure it’s quite intimidating after seeing how you reacted to Austin’s small present.”

An instant comeback slips from her lips, “If you thought
I
looked worried, you should have seen
your
face.”

There’s my girl—all spark and moxie. We laugh as she takes the box and opens it like she has a point to prove. Her expression becomes more serious, so I say, “You always loved that one we had years ago.”

She looks up, holding the prism by the string. Her eyes are watery now. I didn’t mean to make her cry. “Dylan, I—”

“Hey, that’s just like the one in your apartment,” Austin says, taking to her side and kissing her cheek. “Sorry I’m late. Traffic was brutal from the downtown. Dylan, good to see you.” We shake hands.

No matter how much his presence bothers me, he just gave me way more than I expected. She still has it. She has the gift I gave her for Christmas back in college.

Austin is his usual polite self, and asks me, “Did you come for the art or the beautiful company?”