That Girl is Mine - Part One (4 page)

“So, how’s life with the new roommates?” Roxy asks, when I walk into work early that morning. My first client isn’t until nine, but I have a crap ton of paperwork to go over. I hand her the take away coffee I picked up for her on my way here, and she accepts it with a thanks.

“I’ve barely been home to see them. But it’s OK, came home to breakfast this morning so that’s a bonus.” I smile and wink as I take a sip of my coffee. I need at least two cups before I can focus for the day. I run on caffeine.

“Little miss a bit of a homely one, is she?”

“Yeah, she’s like a little wifey. They’re playing house, it’s sickeningly cute. I felt like I was watching some awful ABC family show when Josh left for work this morning. They’re like, picture perfect together.”

“Must be confronting for the commitment-phobe inside you.”

I roll my shoulders and reach a hand up to scratch my back. “Yeah, I think they gave me hives.”

She laughs and gets back to the lightbox where she was working on a design.

“I may have been a bit of a jerk to her though,” I admit after a moment of reflection.

“Why were you a jerk, did she do something?”

Running over the events of this morning in my mind, I think about how much I want to tell her. The truth is, I don’t know why I did it. I just got really uncomfortable watching them together. They’re so obscenely happy together that it made me…jealous? No. How could I be jealous of them? I’ve never been jealous of anything in all my life. It can’t be that. Then why did I do it? Was it just to get a rise out of her? Did I want to piss her off? I keep asking myself questions as I open the drawers at reception and pull out the receipt folder. But I don’t have an answer, so I settle for a generic response instead.

“No. She didn’t do anything. I guess I just snapped for no reason. Maybe I’m just tired or something, and I’m reacting to having new people in my house.”

“Could just be teething problems – you have been living on your own for years.”

“Probably,” I agree, heading into the office but pausing in the doorway when she calls out to me.

“Just don’t be too much of a jerk – we still have to gain her trust, or that lily white skin of hers will remain a blank canvas for the rest of her life.”

Looking back at her, I nod then head into the office, sitting behind the desk before I power on the iMac. As I open the receipt folder Roxy appears in the doorway, leaning against the doorframe with both hands supporting her as she leans forward. “I forgot to ask – which one of us gets to tattoo her?”

Frowning, I look up at her. “I don’t know. She might prefer Evan.”

Roxy bursts out laughing as if I just said the most hysterical thing, not realizing that Evan, our other full-time artist, is now standing directly behind her. “Hey, I’m good at what I do,” he says, looking a little hurt. His thick blond beard seems to move when he speaks. He’s big and burly looking, but he’s one of the nicest guys I know. However, he rarely tattoos any of our female clientele because his specialty is pin ups girls with giant tits and round asses. The guys love his work, but I could never see Avery asking for a busty pin up girl on her skin.

“I’m sorry, honey, it’s not you, it’s the client,” Roxy explains, and he shrugs and moves further into the shop, out of my view. Roxy turns back to me. “And I’m serious – I think the winner should get to tattoo her as well.”

“I think she should get to choose – it’s her body don’t forget. The artwork and artist for her aren’t a part of this bet.”

She shrugs and pushes herself off the doorframe, heading in the same direction Evan went. I get up and shut the door, giving myself some quiet to concentrate. Although I don’t get much work done. I’m too busy wondering if I should just call this bet off. It was made in fun before I met her, but now, things are different, and I’m not sure it’s a good idea anymore…
Shit
, I need to apologize to her for this morning. I shouldn’t have said what I did…

***

I know I shouldn’t be obsessing over what Dylan said about Josh. After all, I knew he was a lot more experienced than me when we got together – he’s a good looking, confident guy. Of course he bedded plenty of women before me (it’s why he’s so damn good at it what he does) and to be truthful, I never asked because I had a feeling the number would be high, and I didn’t want to feel inadequate...

But damn, if that comment didn’t get to me.
Because he probably doesn’t remember exactly how many.
Ugh. Who says shit like that to someone’s girlfriend?

I tilt my head from side to side, cracking my stiff neck before I roll my shoulders. I’ve just spent hours pouring over real estate listings to see if Josh and I can afford to live somewhere on our own. I know that living here isn’t permanent. Josh always said that it’s just until we can find our feet. But there are some affordable places with one bed, one bath, and they’re closer to the hospital. I might make things easier, and I wouldn’t have to endure any more taunts from Dylan.

On top of an accommodation search, I’ve also been looking into transferring to Santa Monica College in the Fall – it’s all so overwhelming and it hurts my head to think about filling out all that paperwork. Although, in the mean time, I also might try and get a job somewhere – maybe at a dance studio, or, since we’re so close to LA, maybe I could go to a couple of auditions and see if I can manage to dance for a living…I don’t know. It’s a crazy amount of things to think about, and I contemplate calling my mom to unload, but then I remember that she’s probably at work right now and won’t be able to listen.

Instead, I set my iPod up and put on my cordless beats that cancel out all sound. Then I move some of the furniture so I can dance without tripping over anything. I limber up a little, and then I press play, closing my eyes when Sleeping at Last’s
500 Miles
begins to fill my ears. Contemporary dance combines a lot of styles of dance, but it has strong roots in ballet and modern dance. Ballet is my background, and I studied it for most of my life. But when I was about sixteen, I started shifting more toward contemporary. I love the free flowing movement of it, and when I’m feeling stressed or overwhelmed, I love to just hit play on my iPod and let whatever song comes up, seep into my veins and guide my movement.

I sway, I kick, I leap, I spin, and I even risk a flip at one point, feeling glad that there’s no glassware on the shelves when I land a little too close to a bookcase. But, I’m smiling, and I’m happy, and as the song rises in crescendo, I spot the wall and pirouette, around, and around and around, feeling free as all the stress melts away from my body. I feel as though I can conquer the world, and that nothing can hurt me. I feel free…

Then, just as I come out of the turn, something draws my attention – a certain tall, blond, tattooed man, who was the reason for my upset in the first place, is leaning up against the wall and watching me intently. His unexpected presence causes me to falter my step and topple off balance. My foot goes from under me. I fall to the ground.

Something snaps.

“I wasn’t trying to scare you. I did call out,” I say, as we sit in the emergency room at UCLA. Avery has her leg across my lap to elevate her swollen ankle. There’s a blue icepack draped across it, and we’re just waiting until we get called in so they can x-ray. I try to keep my eyes off it, feeling guilty for being the reason she’s hurt.

I probably shouldn’t have stood there watching. But she just looked so free, and I’ve never seen someone dance like that before. It wasn’t that gay ballet bullshit, or that stupid hip-hop stuff they do in music videos – it was something much more…beautiful – like she was dancing her feelings. I was mesmerized.

“It’s not your fault; my headphones cancel out the noise. I wouldn’t have heard you even if you yelled,” she replies with a grimace.

“Does it hurt a lot?”

She nods. “I just hope it isn’t too bad. I need to audition in time for college admissions, and I need to get a job so Josh and I can get our own place, and I want to pay my own way.”

“Your own place? Already? Am I that hard to live with?”

She drops her eyes and shrugs. “I don’t know. You just gave me the impression this morning that you weren’t very keen on having me there.”

I look away for a moment, knowing that I crossed the line this morning and knowing that she deserves an apology for it. “About this morning, I was an ass. There’s no excuse for the way I treated you. I shouldn’t have made you uncomfortable like that.”

Focusing on her nails, she fidgets as she nods slowly. “Do you think I’m not good enough for Josh?” she asks blatantly, and it takes me by surprise.

“That’s not what I think at all, Avery. I think you’re great together. I’ve just never been around a happy couple before. And Josh is really happy with you.” I run my hand over my head and pull the front of my hair. “I don’t know, maybe I got a little jealous.”

“Of our relationship?”

I shrug nonchalantly.

“You could have that too, you know?” she says. “If you wanted it. There are a heap of girls looking for love out there.”

“Ah, but I’d have to quit manwhoring – that’s what Keira calls it, isn’t it?” She blushes, and I know I’m right.

“Would that be so bad? I mean, you’re the same age as Josh, and from the way you were talking earlier, surely all those girls start to be one never ending faceless fuck.”

I almost choke on the air. “Faceless fuck?” I repeat, coughing to clear my throat.

“That’s what I said,” she replies with a shrug, and I narrow an eye at her, staring at her in wonder.

“See, this is what I don’t get about you. You go from awkward to graceful then shy to bold. You blush when I say ‘manwhore’ but then you blurt out ‘faceless fuck’ without batting an eyelid. You dress like you don’t want anyone to look at you, except for when we went to
Vibe
and you dressed like you wanted every man in the room to dehydrate from drooling. Emotionally, you seem so restrained, except for when you’re with Josh. Then you’re happy – like super happy, as if he is your happiness. But then I saw you dancing alone, and I saw more emotion than I’ve never seen in another person. It wasn’t just joy, there was melancholy and hope, and, and...” I stop myself, unable to give voice to everything I saw in her when she danced. It was pure emotion-pure beauty. "You gave dancing up to come here with Josh, right?”

She nods, it’s a tiny nod, and I barely see it, but her eyes are wide and her cheeks are flushed – as she listens to me dissect her character.

For a moment I frown, trying to figure out what that means as I look into her light eyes, feeling as if I’m on the edge of falling. I take a breath, and it shakes. I don’t know why. I look away and swallow a lump in my throat. “I think that’s what I’m waiting for,” I admit after a while.

She tilts her head slightly as she studies me in return. “Are you saying you’re waiting to be someone else’s happiness?” she asks, and I shake my head.

“No. I want more than that. I want to be someone’s music, and I want someone to be my music. I don’t just want happiness, Rusty. I want everything. I want to feel everything.”

***

“What the hell happened to you?” Josh asks, rushing toward me. In one hand, I have a new set of crutches that I’ll have to get the hang of using, and the other is holding onto Dylan’s shoulders as he grips me around my waist with his strong hand and long fingers, holding me up, helping me through the door.

After keeping me company during the long wait in emergency, he continued to stay by my side during the x-ray, the diagnosis, and finally, the casting of my ankle.

I’m a bit hopped up on painkillers, so I don’t feel a thing at all. In fact, I’m smiling, and all I manage in response is a giggle.

“She’s high,” Dylan explains.

Josh’s warm arms slide around my body, and I’m being lifted off the ground and transported to the couch.
Why does my waist feel cold now?

He kisses my forehead and pushes my hair away from my face before fussing over me, placing pillows under my leg while he mutters about how worried he was when he got home and we weren’t there and neither of us were answering our phones. I try to respond and say sorry, but I’m feeling really heavy and worn out. Those painkillers they gave me are strong, and my mind feels as though it’s being pulled away.

I hear the gentle rumble of Dylan’s voice. It feels like a calming vibration in my chest as he tells Josh about my dancing mishap. Josh peers down at me with a worried look on his face, as he says something to Dylan that gets lost in the air then Dylan leans down and looks at me as well. My gaze drifts between them, landing last on Dylan’s concerned features before I close my eyes and murmur. “You’re so handsome.”

“Hey you,” Josh whispers, when I open my eyes the next morning. It takes me a moment to realize where I am as the room is still dark, and I’m still on the couch. “I was just checking on you. How’re you feeling?”

“Hey,” I smile, trying to readjust myself a little. My ass is numb from being in the same position all night, and my ankle is now throbbing. I wince a little.

“Here,” he says, offering me a glass of water and my pain meds. “Do you need me to do anything for you before I get ready for work?”

I look down at my purple cast as I swallow the pills. “Help me upstairs so I can pee.”

Grinning, he slides his arms beneath me and lifts me as though I weigh nothing. “Hold on.”

I slide my arm around his shoulders to brace myself, as he carefully carries me up the staircase and into the bathroom so I can do my business. He offers to help, but I assure him I can manage to pee and wash my hands on my own. So he waits for me outside the door.

When I’m done, I stand in front of the mirror for a moment, balancing on one foot. I look a wreck. My hair is a mess of wavy tangles and there are dark circles under my eyes. I pick up my toothbrush and give my teeth a good clean, so at least something about me isn’t horrible. Then I splash water on my face and close my eyes, wishing the pain meds worked a little faster – being upright means the blood has rushed down to my foot, and it’s now pulsing like a second heartbeat. “Josh,” I call out, bracing myself against the sink as I wait for him to reenter and help me into our room.

He sets me up on the bed and sits beside me, running his hand through my hair as I lean back on the soft pillow. “Are you OK?”

“Yeah. Just a little embarrassed. Did Dylan tell you what happened?”

He nods. “Yeah, you went down when you saw him enter the room.”

“I had my Beats on.”

He smiles, knowing how much I love those things. “Dylan also told me you were looking to start working ASAP so we could move out,” he says. “I thought you were going to sort out school first and then get a job around that. Don’t you like it here?”

I shrug. “I like it here just fine. I was just reacting...”

“To what?”

I shake my head, not really wanting to cause a rift between two friends by telling him what Dylan said if I don’t have to. “I don’t know. I guess I want to pay my own way so I’m not so dependent on you.”

He presses his forehead to mine. “I like taking care of you, Avery.”

I reach up and cup his face, running my fingertips over his morning stubble. “I know. But I need to feel like I’m contributing, and now I feel bad because I won’t be able to audition for anything for at least a couple of months, and what happens if the local colleges won’t accept my transfer without an audition? I could be fucked.”

“It’s not that bad. I looked at your x-ray and it’s a clean break. It’ll heal in no time. And even if it doesn’t and you need some physical therapy, it will be OK. I want to take care of you, Avery. Let me take care of you.”

Leaning back, I let out a sigh as I look up into his dark eyes and see the sincerity within them. “OK,” I concede in a whisper, feeling the painkillers begin to lull me into sleepiness. I stifle a yawn.

“Thank you,” he says, placing a kiss on my forehead. “Now, do you need anything? I have to get ready for work, but I can carry you back downstairs or bring up some food if you like.”

“I’ll be fine. I think I just need to sleep. Maybe just bring up the crutches so I can get around if I need to.”

“Sure,” he says. “Just be careful going down the stairs.

“It’s the shortest staircase in the world, Josh, I think I’ll be OK.”

He smiles. “Says the girl who just broke her ankle falling out of a turn I’ve seen her land perfectly, at least a thousand times.”

“Can’t win ‘em all,” I shrug. This causes him to chuckle before he presses his lips to mine and gets off the bed so he can shower. “You didn’t tell me how your first day was,” I call out before he leaves.

He stops in the doorway and turns back to me, a tired expression on his face. “It was good. I was overwhelming. And it was hard.”

“Worth all the study?”

He shrugs. “Time will tell.”

Pressing his lips into a smile he turns away before I call out again to stop him. “Oh, and Josh, can I ask you something really personal?”

“Sure. You can ask me anything.”

“Do you know your number?”

He frowns. “My number? You mean, like, my cell?”

“No.” My cheeks burn for a moment, and I almost chicken out from asking. But, now that it’s in my head, I can’t get it out. “The number of girls you’ve slept with.”

His brow shoots up then furrows. “Why do you want to know that?”

“I just realized I’ve never asked. The number doesn’t really matter, but it’s something we should know about each other, right? Especially since we’re living together now.”

“I suppose. What brought this on? Were you reading Cosmo or something while you were waiting in the ER?”

“Something like that.”

He twists his mouth to the side a little then looks out of the window in our room before he looks back at me and answers. “I don’t know how many, Avery. It’s not something I ever kept count of.”

***

I wake to the sounds of a soft tapping on the bedroom door. Looking over at the clock, I see that it’s after nine. My crutches are propped up against the end of the bed, and my cell is on charge beside me and there’s a glass of water, an apple, a wrapped sandwich, and my next dose of pain meds. On top of the sandwich is a folded piece of paper with a love heart drawn on the outside of it. Inside, Josh has written –
Rest well. Will call when I get a break. J.

I place it back where it was, before I hear the tapping again, followed by a soft voice. “Avery, you up?”

“Ah, yeah. I’m up. Come in,” I call out to Dylan, who opens the door, carrying a tray laden with food.

“Thought you might be – oh, Josh already got you something,” he says, when he sees the food sitting beside me. He’s looking deliciously well put together in a white vintage print t-shirt and a pair of black jeans. That ever-present chain is swinging from his hip, and his undercut hairstyle is growing out a little, but the long top is standing up in its usual way. I wonder if that’s just what it does, or if he puts something in it to make it look like that.

“Wait,” I say, as he begins to turn away. “I’ll eat it.”

He smiles and brings the tray over to me, setting it on my lap. “I didn’t know how you liked your eggs, so I just made them the way I take mine.”

I look at the tray. There’s a plate of toast with scrambled eggs that have chopped up red and green peppers in them, as well as a glass of orange juice and a cup of coffee with milk and sugar on the side.

“Wow. Thank you,” I say, picking up my knife and fork. “You didn’t have to do this, but thank you. Are you eating too?”

He shakes his head. “No. I have to go into the shop. But, since it’s only twenty minutes away, I’ll come back between clients to check on you.”

“You don’t have to do that, Dylan. I’ll be OK.”

“It’s no trouble.” He glances down at my cast. “I just want to say I’m sorry again. I never meant for this to happen.”

“It wasn’t your fault.”

“No. It was. I shouldn’t have stood there watching when you didn’t know I was there. That was kind of, um.” He clears his throat with a cough. “Weird of me.”

I smile. “I like weird, Dylan.”

He smiles in return, wiping his hands down the front of his jeans as if his palms are sweaty or something. “OK. Well, I have to go. I’ll see you around lunchtime, Rusty.”

He steps out the door, and I thank him again for the breakfast. When he leaves the room, I suddenly feel very lonely.