Page 14 of Painted Truths

He’s dressed in a shirt and slacks; much more sophisticated than Henry’s youthful t-shirt and jeans, and it makes him appear older, but if I were to hazard a guess, I’d place him to be the same age as Henry.

His almost black eyes widen as he spots me, hidden mainly by Henry’s width. Then, grimacing in apology before opening his mouth to speak, revealing shockingly perfect teeth, Henry spins to cut him off, still hiding me from the view of the newcomer. Well, mostly.

“I’ll find you in a minute, idiot.”

His friend’s lips roll upward on one side in a self-deprecating sneer before he turns and returns the way he’d come.

We follow behind him, my hand wrapped inside Henry’s much large one, our feet dragging, knowing the night is coming to an end.

Urging me into the virtually deserted Powder Room, Henry presses a chaste kiss to the top of my head before drawing back to find my eyes once more.

“I’ll be right back, then we’ll leave via this entrance. My Peaches better not go anywhere.”

I giggle at the name he is so insistent on calling me and nod.

“I’ll be right here.”

Raising our joined hands to his lips, he presses one final kiss onto the back of my hand before slowly unlacing our fingers until just our fingertips are touching.

He peers deeply into my eyes, all signs of playfulness gone.

“Promise me, Peaches.”

Throwing caution to the wind, for the—I’ve lost count of how many times tonight—I raise his fingertips to my lips to drop a kiss on each tip, ending with his pinkie finger, which I intertwine with my own.

“Pinkie promise.”

Dropping one final kiss on my upturned mouth, he makes to leave, stopping once to glance back with a mixture of longing, desire, and something else I can’t place in his eyes, yet I know instinctively is mirrored in my own.

“Go! I promise I’ll wait right here.”

Then, remembering the brand-new cheeky side that Henry brings out in me, I blow him a dramatically noisy kiss just as he walks out the door, his loud laughter the final sound I hear before the door whooshes closed.

Deciding to take this time to make myself more presentable, I settle into one of the luxurious armchairs and take in the damage. My eyes are glassy, and my hair is tousled even more than Jo had teased it into artfully earlier. It’s definitely got that look she was going for after Henry got his hands on it. And in it.

My lipstick is a thing of the past.

I wonder if he’s got it all over his face.

A thrill ripples through me at the idea of having marked him as mine.

It’s just then that I notice the marks on my own skin. There are several not-so-subtle bruises along my neck and collarbone from his attentions. I smirk at the thought of marking each other.

Claiming each other.

Blatant wanton. That’s what I’m most assuredly becoming!

In the first five minutes after his departure, the Powder Room sees a conveyor belt of an array of model-esque women as I wait. Eventually, the crowd, alongside my hope of Henry’s return, tapers off to a slow trickle. When he’s been gone twenty minutes, and I haven’t seen another patron in more than five minutes, I shoot Nola a text to ensure they haven’t left yet.

No response, yet I’m adamantly clinging to that final look Henry and I exchanged. The look that promised so much more. Another fifteen minutes pass before I hear my phone ring.

And with it, my heart sinks.

“Hey, girl. Where are you?”

“Jo, I met him! I’m in the Powder Room waiting for my McHottie to return, but he’s been gone for so long, and this place has long since cleared out. I’m feeling a bit. Ummm....” I trail off, not knowing how to finish without sounding as naïve, as I so clearly am. Not wanting to admit to myself that he’s just not coming back, and I’ve been taken for a fool.

“Liv, sweetie. Head downstairs now, okay? We’re waiting for you at the foot of the VIP stairs.”