So Damn Beautiful (A New Adult Romance) (21 page)

“You okay, Annie?”

“It’s probably just really bad PMS, but I’m
not feeling too hot, Ken, so I think I’ll head back to the dorm for
a nap.”

“Don’t you have your medieval-art class in
twenty minutes? Have you ever actually played hooky before?” She
tsk-tsked. “Skipping class because of Harrison Waters is one thing,
but I’m not going to lie—if this is about Chase Adams, you’re in
deep shit.”

“Kendra, I’m really not in the mood right
now,” I said as I grabbed my knapsack. “I think I need about twenty
hours of sleep to figure out what the hell is happening in my
life.”

Kendra gave me a knowing look. “Annie,
there’s something you’re not telling me. And I think you’ll feel
better if you spill the beans.”

I just about felt like spilling my beans
right then and there—I was that wobbly and nauseous. “Maybe later,
Ken, but I can’t right now.”

She sighed in defeat, but when she took
another look at me, it made her stand up. “You look terrible,
Annie! Do you need me to take you back to the dorm . . . or the
health clinic? I hear there’s some kind of monster flu going
around.”

I shook my head. “I’ll be okay. I just need
to sleep it off.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Yup, I know those
nights . . . and you’re not off the hook, Annie Green. I demand the
entire story once you’re out of the zombie zone.”

I gave her a cursory hug and headed in the
direction of the dorm. I may have stretched the truth with my
friend, but I wasn’t lying about hitting the hay—though there was
definitely a part of me that felt wired enough to stay awake for
days. Being around Chase was like getting hit by a Mack truck while
on speed. I hated the effects, but I was simultaneously hoping they
wouldn’t wear off too quickly.

“Annie?”

I turned around, and Kendra had a giant smile
on her face.

“You know I’m expecting a full report when
you’re more than half-conscious, right?”

I rolled my eyes. “There’s nothing to tell,”
I insisted, although I was aware I didn’t sound particularly
convincing.

“Don’t sweat it. I’m as patient as
evolution,” she said calmly. “And trust me, I
will
find out
what the missing link here is.”

Since our committee meeting had been canceled to allow us to focus
on working with our artists for the next week or so, I had an
impromptu study date with Harrison that night. I figured it would
be the perfect way to cleanse my mind of the goings-on from the
night before. I’d taken a long nap after I’d gotten home from
lunch, which was exactly what the doctor had ordered.

In Harrison’s room at the Sigma Phi Kappa
house, I felt newly invigorated and determined to master the
complexities of the medieval illuminated book. Of course, the fact
that we were sprawled out on Harrison’s king-size bed made
concentrating on my homework a little challenging. Our legs were
casually interlinked as I pored over my textbook and he researched
some material on his iPad. Because Harrison was in his senior year,
he wasn’t taking many classes. Instead, he was focusing on crew and
an internship at some local councilman’s office.

“I don’t really know what I’m doing after
college,” he had admitted to me. “I figure I’ll take over the
family business at some point, but I also want to travel for a year
or two. Maybe in Europe or South America.”

I looked around Harrison’s room. It was only
my second time here, and I still couldn’t get over how formal it
felt. The large four-poster bed was Tudor-style, with an ornate
solid-wood frame and headboard. The cream-colored linens were
flanked by cushions that reminded me of Persian rugs. In fact, the
floors were covered with turn-of-the-century Tabriz rugs (which I
recognized from my trips to antique shops as a kid) bursting with
vines and flowers. I noted that the art on the walls was made up
primarily of traditional still lifes, ocean landscapes, and
portraits of stout Victorian women.

“Did you decorate?” I asked. It certainly
didn’t feel like the choices of a twenty-one-year-old athlete had
come into play.

Harrison smiled and shook his head. “No way.
I wouldn’t know the first thing about decorating.” He scrunched his
nose. “I’m not that crazy about it—feels like I’m in a creepy house
full of some old lady’s stuff. But all of this was bequeathed unto
me as the president of Sigma Phi Kappa. They’re all about
preserving history, noblesse oblige, and all that.”

“I guess I understand, but I feel like your
space should always have something of you inside it. I was always
the one who took care of interior decorating back home,” I said,
thinking of all the shlepping of boxes I’d done over the course of
many years while we built up the old house from scratch.

“Oh yeah? That doesn’t surprise me. You have
a natural talent there. I honestly couldn’t care less. It’s just
scenery, you know?” He went back to his iPad.

I frowned. I didn’t think of a person’s
immediate environment as being “just scenery.” But maybe Harrison
felt that way because he’d never needed to think about beautifying
his environment—it was already always beautiful.

At that moment, the door to Harrison’s room
was flung open. It was his burly frat brother Chip, whom I hadn’t
seen since that first encounter at Sigma Phi Kappa. Harrison seemed
to be intent on proving to me that he wasn’t just another mindless
frat boy, so most of the time we’d spent together had been outside
the house.

Chip’s face lit up with salacious delight
when he saw me. He crossed his burly arms across his chest. “Whoa,
man, forgive me for interrupting!” Despite the apology, he didn’t
budge but just continued to look at us, as if he were waiting for a
show.

Harrison rolled his eyes. “We’re busy, Chip.
Is there something you want?”

Chip shrugged. “Just wanted to see if I could
borrow your car. I have a date with this bangin’ sorority chick,
and I was thinking we’d take a ride out to my family’s place in
Jersey—you know, for a little privacy, since that’s kind of a rare
commodity around here.”

Harrison threw him his keys from the
nightstand, not even bothering to look at Chip. “Be sure to bring
her back in one piece, okay?”

Chip grinned ear to ear. “You talking about
the girl or the car, man?”

“The car! And I want a full tank of gas this
time.”

Chip shrugged. “Whatever, man.” He then
winked at me, which made me feel like I had teeny insects crawling
across my body. I shuddered.

“See ya later, kids. Don’t do anything I
wouldn’t do! On second thought, have at it, but be sure to pass the
video footage on to me.” He was out of there before Harrison could
throw a pillow at him.

I looked at Harrison, and he rubbed my
shoulder apologetically.

“I know, I know—Chip’s one of those guys who
gives a bad name to all of us frat brothers—but what can I say?
He’s an old friend and, I assure you, a lot less of a jerk than he
comes off as being.”

“Well, he’s gone now, so it’s all good,” I
responded, putting my book down and smiling. He put down his iPad,
too, and pulled me into his arms.

“You’re supercute, you know that?” he said as
he softly nibbled my neck and ear.

I closed my eyes, enjoying the feel of his
mouth on my skin. I had practically been pinching myself over the
last week to get used to the fact that Harrison Waters was my
boyfriend. Sure, things weren’t always all fireworks between us,
but I liked how warm and safe I felt whenever I was around him. He
had an effortless sweetness that reminded me of Peter, sans the
immaturity. And despite the fact that we were from radically
different worlds, he never made me feel like a pariah, which was
something that just added to my respect for him.

He pulled back from the embrace and stroked
my hair, propping himself up on one elbow. “You haven’t told me
anything about the Quentin Pierce project lately—how are things
going with that?”

My stomach sank slightly. I’d been keeping
things under wraps about my piece of the project, and aside from
spilling the beans to Kendra, I hadn’t told anyone else about
working with Chase Adams. But since Harrison had expressed
interest, I didn’t want to pussyfoot around it.

“Um, yeah. I actually found an artist to work
with . . . Chase Adams,” I said. I could feel my heart pounding as
Harrison raised an eyebrow.

“Chase Adams? Wait a second . . . is that the
guy we saw at Washington Square Park? The one with the two muscled
flunkies?” A hint of mockery crept into his voice.

“Well, yes, but he’s actually a really
talented artist, and the work we’re doing together is purely
professional, so I don’t have that much contact with him.” I felt
bad for lying, but I didn’t want Harrison to worry about my getting
assaulted, or worse. “It’s pretty much a mutually beneficial
relationship—I get an amazing piece of art from the deal, and Chase
gets more exposure.”

Harrison frowned. “I thought this guy didn’t
give a shit about exposure. He’s the one who’s always so high and
mighty when he talks about the gallery scene, right? My cousin was
telling me about him the other day.”

Of course—Elsie was butting in where she
didn’t belong, once again.

“Yes, and he also has a lot of respect for
Quentin, so he’s doing the piece in the spirit of creating
something that goes beyond high- or lowbrow,” I explained.

Harrison ran a hand through his hair. “Yeah,
but everyone knows graffiti isn’t real art, and isn’t that what
this guy does?”

I couldn’t help but feel somewhat defensive
at the dismissive tone in Harrison’s voice. “He’s a little more
complex than that, Harrison. He does a lot of publicly commissioned
murals and other stuff that’s meant to revivify neglected areas of
New York City. It’s not about defacing public property—it’s about
bringing life to places where people feel disconnected from their
surroundings.”

“Yeah, well . . . I’ve heard he’s trouble,
and I don’t want you to get hurt by association,” Harrison
responded darkly.

He hadn’t seemed too threatened by Chase on
our first date, but I could tell from the tension in his jaw and
the clipped tone of his voice that he was now. Surprisingly, I felt
a surge of fire in my veins at the idea of the two duking it out
over me.

“Jealous?” I said playfully, tracing a line
up his arm with my finger.

He was unmoved by my flirtation. “Not
jealous, just looking out for you. That guy’s scum, and I don’t
want him getting any ideas about my girl.”

I felt my skin heat up the way it did when I
was bracing myself for a debate. A little jealousy, I could handle.
But being treated like someone’s property? Not a chance. “I can
take care of myself,” I said, maybe a little too shortly.

That seemed to snap Harrison back. “Shit,
Annie, I’m sorry—I don’t mean to act like you’re a deer in the
headlights or something. I think it’s great you’re working on this,
and I love how cute you are when you’re passionate about
something.” He leaned toward me and gave me a lingering kiss, which
helped disperse the irritation.

“My parents are in Europe till December, and
they told me there’s a lot of street art in places like Paris and
Barcelona, so, I dunno, maybe you have a point about this stuff,”
Harrison said, before returning to his iPad, signaling an end to
the conversation.

I was almost disappointed that it hadn’t led
to a fiery debate, as I was longing to have a deeper conversation
about art. But it seemed like the only person who was capable of
hashing it out with me was Chase Adams. I chewed my fingernails,
trying to snuff last night out of my memory. I felt guilty even
thinking about it, since I was here with Harrison right now. But
while being with Harrison felt comfortable, my heart jumped in
sweet anticipation every time I thought of Chase . . . of his
intense eyes . . . of his hand encircling my waist and pressing
into the small of my back, almost protectively. I could shy away
from it as much as I wanted to, but the fire between Chase and me
was tangible.

Almost on impulse, I took Harrison’s iPad out
of his hands.

“Hey!” he said, smiling. “What’s up?”

I didn’t know what had come over me. I just
knew that I needed to do whatever I could to get Chase Adams out of
my mind.

I reached across Harrison and set his iPad
down on the nightstand, then climbed atop him so I was straddling
him. “Enough studying,” I said, feigning my most seductive voice.
“It’s time to take a break.” I lowered myself until our faces were
level. He didn’t protest; he simply put his hands on my ass and
started to kiss me. His kisses were soft at first, but I responded
with fervor, sucking him in, biting his lips, moving my tongue into
his mouth. I could tell he was surprised but also enjoying it. I
was, too, although I was frustrated that the fire I was hoping to
experience didn’t fill my veins. As I closed my eyes and grinded my
hips into Harrison’s, all I could see and sense was Chase—perfect,
desirable, and totally out of reach.

“Okay, Annie, what is going on with this whole Chase thing? You
haven’t given us any meaningful updates on where you are in the
process.”

I shifted in my seat as Claudia and the rest
of the committee stared at me. It seemed like the rest of them had
made headway on their projects in very tangible ways already.
Elsie’s artist was making some kind of short film to supplement his
large-scale installation. Hayden’s artist was working on some
super-elaborate lighting scheme for the architectural piece. Shawn
and his artist were actually collaborating with some big shots in
Silicon Valley to ship out some materials that were apparently
modeled on the principles of nanotechnology, which I didn’t really
understand, but, as Shawn had explained, “It’s like you have little
guys in your body communicating with each other in real time and
fixing all the areas of your body and mind that are deficient. No
surgeons or NYU courses necessary!”