“Isn’t that the fun part? Sometimes spontaneity and chaos can mask itself as a grand master plan.”
“You never freak out about committing to something for your whole life like that?”
“Nah. It’s not that serious. Just art — and I love to be a canvas.” She smiled up at me. “What about you? Any ink hiding under this ridiculously soft shirt? Nice outfit, by the way. Love the shoes.”
I smirked, looking down at the outfit in question — a fitted charcoal tee, tapered joggers, and a pair of clean white sneakers, finished with one of the many caps I rotated through like clockwork. I knew I wanted to be comfortable, but I also had always taken pride in how I looked. My therapist said it was away for me to control something in an otherwise uncontrollable situation. Whatever the reason, I had a closet full of hats and shoes and clothing from my favorite designers — Vuori, John Elliot, and Aimé Leon Dore, to name a few. Most of them were thrifted, but every now and then I splurged on myself. It was the one thing I did for me.
“I have one,” I said, pushing the sleeve of my shirt up to show the bull on my triceps.
Emily smiled, tracing the black lines. “Taurus?”
“Not me,” I said.
Emily’s phone buzzed loud from her pocket, interrupting before I could finish. She fished out her cell while I stopped to inspect a Toyota. It already had over a hundred-thousand miles on it, so I passed, moving on to the next.
When I glanced back at Emily, she was staring at her phone like it was about to blow up.
“Everything okay?” I asked.
She jumped a little like she’d forgotten I was there before she forced a smile and tucked her phone away again. “Yeah. Just a text from my parents.”
I arched a brow. “Wow. Don’t sound so happy about it.”
“I’m not,” she said simply, shrugging. “Oh! What about this one? Nowthiswill get you laid,” she said, pulling the lever to let the tailgate down on the back of a Chevy Colorado. “Right here probably, if we’re getting into details. Want to test it out? Quick — jump up here and pin me to the bed.”
She patted the spot next to her with a wicked grin, and fuck if I didn’t want to throw all caution to the wind and do exactly what she said. I wanted to do it just to see the surprise on her face, just to hear her breath hitch when I called her on her bluff and showed her exactly what I’d do if we weren’t contractually obligated to stay away from each other.
Instead, I ignored the comment, knowing acknowledging it would lead to trouble.
“Again, too expensive,” I said, sliding my hands into my pockets as I stopped in front of her. “Why aren’t you happy to hear from your parents?”
“Why won’t you let yourself buy a car even five grand over your ridiculously low budget because of your family?”
“I asked you first.”
Emily sighed, letting her head fall back before she popped off the bed of the truck and shut the tailgate. “I’m twenty-nine years old living with a roommate and dancing for a football team. Do you think any parents would be proud of that?”
“Lots, actually.”
“Well, not mine.” She crossed her arms over her chest as we started walking again, and it was the first time I’d ever seen her wear defensive body language. I realized that even though she was making light of the whole thing, this was something that actually got to her.
It made me want to wrap her up in my arms, just to give her a moment of being held, a brief sanctuary of peace.
I shook off the thought before it could plant roots.
“My father comes from a very affluent family in London.”
“Where’s your accent?”
She flipped me off, but I succeeded in getting her to smile a bit. “He’s also a very successful hedge fund advisor. And my mom is a lawyer.”
“Sounds terrifying.”
“Oh, they’re lovely,” she said quickly, waving a hand like she needed to correct the record before I got the wrong idea. “They’re actually great parents. Supportive. Loving. Financially… extremely enabling.”
“That last part sounded loaded.”
Emily kicked a small rock across the pavement as we walked past a row of sedans, her voice drifting into a casual, half-distracted tone.
