By Thursday the following week, I figured it was my turn to initiate the next undate with Colby. He’d texted a few times since poker night, keeping in touch, but I had a feeling he was trying to hold back and give me some space. He’d hinted at a few things he thought would make good undates but hadn’t attempted to nail down any concrete plans. It seemed the ball was in my court, so I started to text him to ask if he wanted to go to an art show with me this weekend. Then decided it would be more undatelike to bust his balls a little first.
Billie: Hey. I’m going to an art show Saturday night. One of the exhibitors paints songs. It’s actually pretty cool. Once a month, he has his fans tell him their favorite songs from the indie top 100 charts. Whichever one gets mentioned the most, he creates a painting about. It’s not a literal interpretation, but just the feeling the song evokes when he listens to it. You view each painting with a headset that plays the song that inspired it. It’s pretty amazing how he nails the emotion every time.
Colby: Wow, that does sound cool. I love art shows.
I smiled. Yep, he’s definitely hinting.
Billie: I have an extra ticket. I was thinking I’d ask Holden if he wanted to go. You know, the musician connection and all. Of course, it wouldn’t be a date.
The evil side of me couldn’t help myself. Then I added:
Billie: It would be more like an undate. 😉
The dots started to jump around and then stopped, then started again and stopped. I might’ve cackled a little. Eventually, my phone vibrated.
Colby: You want to undate Holden?
Billie: Sure, why not? Of course, it would be platonic like you and I are.
I watched as the message went from delivered to read. A full minute went by and then my phone rang. Colby. Good thing he hadn’t FaceTimed me since I couldn’t wipe the huge grin from my lips.
“Hey,” I said.
“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“What?”
A few heartbeats passed. “Wait. Are you screwing with me?”
I laughed. “Why would I do that?”
“You are. You’re screwing with me.”
My laughter rolled into a snort. “Jealous much?”
“I’m going to kick your ass. I don’t even know if you have tickets to an art show. But for that little stunt you just pulled, you’d better find some. Because you’re taking me to one Saturday night.”
I bit down on my bottom lip. “I kind of like bossy Colby.”
“Oh yeah? Well I’m happy to boss you around, sweetheart. Just get your ass over here to my bedroom, and I’ll show you.”
Oh God. That sounded so damn good. But how the hell did we go from me busting his balls to me having blue balls so quickly? I needed to redirect this conversation before I told him to keep talking while I slipped my hand into my pants. I cleared my throat. “So…anyway. Would you like to join me at an art show, Colby? Of course, it would be an undate.”
“It took you long enough to ask.”
I laughed. “I have to go a little early. How is six?”
“Sounds good. I’ll pick you up.”
“I’ll meet you at the shop,” I told him.
“Are you working?”
“No, I’m off all day on Saturday this week.”
“Then let me come to you. I want to see where you live.”
“Umm…”
“Seriously? You don’t trust me yet? I’m not going to maul you, Billie.”
The funny thing was, not trusting Colby was never even a thought. It was me I didn’t trust alone with him in private anymore, especially not in a place with a big bed. But I was the one who was keeping things platonic, so I’d have to suck it up. “Of course, I trust you. I’ll see you when you get here..”
***
“You’re early…”
Colby’s eyes dropped down to my bare legs. I’d just finished doing my makeup and drying my hair and was dressed in a short, silk robe that skimmed the tops of my thighs.
He rocked back and forth on his heels. “It looks to me like I came at the perfect time.”
I chuckled and stepped aside for him to enter. “Come on in. Make yourself at home. I’m going to go get dressed.”
In my bedroom, I slipped out of my robe and into the sundress I’d picked out.
Colby yelled from the other room. “I was trying to imagine what your apartment would look like.”
I yelled back. “Well, what’s the verdict? Is it what you expected?”
“It totally is. It’s feminine and girly, yet also kind of funky. By the way, is the handle on this mug a dick?”
I laughed as I put on my shoes. “Indeed it is. Deek made it for me for my birthday. He and his boyfriend took a pottery class, and everything they made had a dick or balls on it.”
I looked in the full-length mirror on the back of my bedroom door and didn’t recognize the woman staring back at me. It had been a long time since I’d worn an outfit like this, but I knew walking into my mother’s gallery in my regular duds would give her a heart attack. So I gave a little, hoping she would do the same tonight.
Out in the living room, Colby was busy checking out the dozens of framed art pieces I had along one wall.
“Did you draw th—” He stopped mid-sentence when he turned and blinked a few times. “Wow. You look…”
“Like I’m on my way to church?”
“Church is the opposite of what I think of when I see you in that dress. I’m going to hell for what I’m thinking…”
I looked down. “Really? This does it for you? But you love my corsets so much.”
“Oh, I love those, too. But that dress…something about the innocent look of it mixed with your sleeve of tattoos… It makes me want to—” He dragged his eyes up and down my body again and shook his head. “Forget it. We should probably go.”
God, this man was killing me. My body tingled at the frustration in his voice. I wasn’t a stranger to men wanting me, but Colby made me feel like he wanted so much more than my body.
I nodded. “That’s probably a good idea. My mother loathes lateness.”
Colby’s brows pulled together. “Your mother?”
I grabbed my purse. “Oh, did I forget to mention that the art show is at my mother’s gallery?”
“I think you did.”
“Did I mention that I wasn’t technically a guest, but that I was exhibiting some of my work? The show is called The Edge because the artists are all supposed to be—” I made air quotes with my fingers. “—Edgy.”
“You definitely didn’t mention that either.”
“Welp, then let me wish you luck with my mother. Because you’re probably going to need it.”
***
“So, Colby. Tell me about yourself.” My mother lifted her wine to her perfectly painted red lips and sipped. “What do you do for a living?”
“I’m an architect.”
“Oh, that’s a wonderful profession. It affords you an outlet for your creativity while still providing stability. I so wish I could have talked Billie into something along those lines.”
I spoke through gritted teeth. “My tattoo parlor is thriving, Mother.”
She shook her head. “Yes, but the clientele you work with—”
“Are a lot more fun than the clientele you work with.”
Mom smiled and turned her attention back to Colby. “How did you two meet? It’s such a rarity that my daughter brings anyone around. I hope you don’t mind so many questions.”
Colby was gracious. “Not at all, ask away. Billie and I met at her tattoo shop. I’m actually her landlord, and I came down to introduce myself.” He looked at me with a sparkle in his eyes. “She was throwing a little party when I walked in.”
I raised my glass of champagne to cover my smirk. “Yes, I even gave the guest of honor a special gift.”
My mother seemed oblivious to our exchange. She was too busy focusing on one word Colby had said.
“Landlord!” Her eyes lit up. “Manhattan real estate at your age? That’s impressive.”
“It’s not as exciting as it sounds,” Colby said. “I have three partners.”
“It sounds to me like you’re being modest. Half the battle is getting your life on track.” She looked over at me. “Maybe some of your levelheadedness will rub off on my daughter, and she’ll stop rebelling against me by mutilating her body with ink and hanging out with a seedy crowd.”
The muscle in Colby’s jaw flexed, and I could see his face turning red. “I doubt that. Because I believe in encouraging people to do what they love. I’ve also met some of the people she spends her time with, and there’s nothing seedy about them. They’re loyal and protective of your daughter, exactly the type of people I’d want around someone I cared about.”
My mother sighed. “She’s living a lifestyle beneath her.”
Colby shook his head. “I hope you’ll excuse me for saying so, but we’ve been here for five minutes, and you’ve insulted Billie four times. In my experience, when someone judges others because of what they look like or do for a living, it’s rarely about the person being judged. It’s about the judgmental person’s own insecurities.”
My mother blinked a few times, clearly shocked at being spoken to like that. But then she recovered and plastered on her best fake smile. “Enjoy the show. It was lovely to meet you, Carter.”
My jaw hung open as she strutted away.
Colby shook his head. “I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.”
“Are you kidding me? That was fucking awesome!”
“You’re not mad?”
“Mad? I could kiss you right now.”
He grinned. “You should really go with your instincts.”
I laughed. “Seriously, that was perfect, Colby. She didn’t see it coming, and you said it without raising your voice or making a scene.”
“Honestly, I’d thought you were exaggerating the few times you’ve mentioned your mother.”
“I wish.” I linked my arm with Colby’s. “But let’s try to forget about her. Come on, I see Devin, my mentor. He just walked in. I told you about him. He was the one who first got me interested in tattooing, and I apprenticed under him. I want to introduce you.”
After we spent a little time talking to Devin, I took Colby around the room to see the art. We walked the perimeter, stopping at each exhibit. As we approached my section, I felt a little nervous. Colby had seen my tattoos, but not the type of art I was showing today. I took a deep breath as we stood in front of the first painting—a nude woman lying down with her back arched. Her face was tense and muscles taut. The entire painting was done in black and white, except for a piece of bright red silk fabric strewn over her breasts.
“This is one of mine,” I said. “My mother made me rename it for the show.”
“Wow. It’s incredible.” Colby glanced over to the little sign hanging under the artwork. “Unto Eve,” he read. “What does that mean?”
I laughed. “I have no idea. I’m guessing it’s some biblical reference to Eve from Adam and Eve.”
“What was it originally called?”
“I refer to it as The Peak Before Pleasure. In my head, the pose encapsulates the moment before an orgasm hits.”
Colby looked back at the painting. He studied the woman for a long time, and then he swallowed. “It’s really beautiful, Billie. It causes a stir inside when I look at it.”
I bumped my shoulder with his and lowered my voice. “A stir, huh? You want to know a secret?”
“Absolutely.”
“I took a naked photo of myself in that position to use as a reference for the arch of the woman’s back. I used the self-timer on my iPhone.”
Colby’s eyes dropped to my lips. “You still got that photo on your phone?”
I flashed an evil grin. “Maybe…”
He groaned. “You’re killing me, woman.”
It took us an hour to finish looking at all the art. When we were done, I needed to use the restroom, so I excused myself.
I found Colby studying Unto Eve again when I returned. He had two glasses of champagne in his hands and a piece of thick cardstock.
“A woman came by and asked if I wanted another glass of champagne,” he said. “So I got us each one.”
“Oh great. Thanks.”
He held up the card. “She gave me this, too. What is it? The ID numbers of all the paintings or something?”
I smiled. “That’s the price list.”
He’d just sipped his champagne and started to cough. “The price list?” He lifted the card closer to his face and scanned it. “Are they missing the decimal point that separates the dollars from the change?”
I chuckled. “No. My mother would never use change. She finds using a dollar sign tacky and appalling. That’s why there are only numbers printed.”
Colby pointed to the painting in front of us. “So that’s eleven-thousand-five-hundred dollars if I want to buy it?”
I shook my head. “Actually, you can’t buy it.” I pointed to the small colored sticker on the placard. “It looks like it sold already.”
“For eleven grand?”
He glanced around at my other pieces nearby. Most of them had stickers now as well. “Holy shit. You just made half my annual salary in an hour.”
I smiled, feeling a little embarrassed. “It’s not always this way. But now you probably think I’m an idiot for not following the path my mother would prefer.”
“That’s not what I was thinking at all.” He looked around. “I was just wondering if the guy who bought this piece is still here. I feel like kicking his ass because he’s going to have a painting on his wall that’s based on your nude body. And my other thought was…” He grinned. “I got me a sugar momma.”
I snort-laughed. “You’re demented, Lennon.”
After the show ended, Colby asked if I wanted to take a walk. My mother’s gallery was downtown, and it was a nice night, so he suggested we go over to the pedestrian entrance to the Brooklyn Bridge.
I looked up as we started across. “You know, I’ve lived here my entire life and never walked on this thing.”
“Really? How come?”
I shrugged. “I don’t know. I guess I never paid any attention to bridges before. They were just kind of a means to get off the island of Manhattan.”
Colby gripped his chest. “Oh, that hurts. These things are works of art.”
I looked up at all the suspension wires and the twinkling lights at the top. “It is really pretty.”
Colby slipped his hand next to mine and casually weaved our fingers together. When I looked over, he held up his other hand. “I hold Saylor’s hand when we walk all the time. So don’t read into it too much. I’m well aware it’s not a date.”
I laughed. “It’s fine.”
“Good, because it felt wrong to be walking next to you right now and not be holding your hand.”
I smiled. Holding his hand actually did feel right. And I tried not to let that thought freak me out by changing the subject. “So, what random trivia do you have for me about this architectural splendor, Mr. Bridge Aficionado?”
He held up a finger. “Ah. I thought you’d never ask.”
For the next hour, as we walked from one borough to the next and back, Colby told me story after story about the Brooklyn Bridge—how PT Barnum once walked twenty-one elephants across to show the people of New York that it was safe, and every name the bridge had been called since it was built. If someone had asked if I found bridge facts interesting a month ago, I would have thought they were nuts. Yet I hung on Colby’s every word. However, I think that had less to do with the bridges and more to do with the man.
It was almost midnight by the time we got back to my apartment. We’d been together nearly six hours, yet I still wasn’t ready for the night to end. As we walked to the elevator, I debated whether I’d be sending the wrong signal by inviting him up. In the end, I decided I was being silly. I’d spent enough time in his apartment—it wouldn’t seem out of bounds. “Do you…want to come up for a little while?”
He thought a moment. “I probably shouldn’t. I don’t want to push my luck and break one of the rules of undating. Plus, the sitter has work in the morning, so I shouldn’t keep her too much longer.”
I tried to hide my disappointment. “Oh…yeah, of course. I’m sorry. I wasn’t even thinking.”
He took my hand again. “I had a really good time tonight.”
I smiled. “I did, too.”
“You know how when we do certain things it just feels wrong or unnatural? Like turning around after you throw a bowling ball down the alley and not watching to see what happens?”
I chuckled. “Yeah?”
Colby looked down at his feet. “That’s what leaving without kissing you feels like.”
My insides felt all warm and mushy.
“I think I’m going to skip the traditional end-of-undate ritual. No sniffing for me. I don’t trust myself to get that close right now.”
I smiled sadly. “Alright.”
Colby pushed the button for the elevator. It must’ve been waiting because the doors slid open immediately. I had to force myself to step inside the car and leave him. Colby was one-hundred-percent right. It felt wrong to walk away like this. Once I was in the elevator, I put my hand on the doorframe to stop them from closing.
“Thank you for sticking up for me with my mother tonight. It means a lot to me.”
He smiled. “You mean a lot to me.”
I let go of the door and stepped back. “Goodnight, Colby.”
“Goodnight, beautiful.”
The second the doors began to slide closed, panic washed over me. My heart raced, my palms began to sweat, and it felt like I was having a panic attack. It was so bad that I stuck my hand out between the doors at the very last second, and the old elevator crushed it before begrudgingly bouncing open again.
“Shit!” I screamed.
Colby ran back. “What happened? Are you okay?”
“Nothing…” I shook out my wrist. “I stuck my hand between the doors to stop it from closing, but it’s fine. It scared me more than it hurt.”
He took my hand and examined it. It wasn’t even red. “Are you sure?”
I nodded. “Yeah, I’m positive.”
“Open your fingers and close them.”
I did as he said without any pain. “They’re fine.”
“Why did you stick your hand in the doors anyway?”
“I, uh, I just felt like I needed to get off.”
Colby’s eyes looked back and forth between mine, and then a cocky smile spread across his face. “It feels weird for you to walk away without kissing me, too, doesn’t it?”
“No,” I said a little too fast.
“Admit it. You want to kiss me.”
“No, I don’t.”
His smile widened. “Liar.” Colby cupped my face and guided me to take a few steps back, until I hit the elevator doors. He leaned down so our heads were aligned and our noses were practically touching.
“We’re going to be standing here a long time if you’re waiting for me to initiate it. I’m not breaking the rules.”
My heart beat even faster with him so close. Did he have to smell so damn good, too? Who still smells so delicious after six hours out in New York City? I had the strongest urge to press myself against him, feel his warm, hard body up against my soft.
Colby ran his nose along my throat, his hot breath leaving a trail of goose bumps in its wake. My resolve was quickly crumbling. How could it not with my body zapping like I’d touched a live wire? He moved his mouth to my ear, and his voice was gruff and needy. “You know you want me as much as I want you.”
He was right. The ache for him was unbearable. When he pulled his head back and I saw the desire swimming in his eyes, I was done for.
So, so done. “Fuck it,” I said as I launched myself at him. I wrapped my arms around his neck and jumped into his arms, pressing my lips to his. Our mouths opened, and our tongues collided. I might’ve started the kiss, but there was no mistaking that Colby took it over. His hands slid into my hair, grabbing a handful in the back and tugging my head where he wanted it. He pushed up against me, and I could feel his hard-on pressing against my stomach. My eyes rolled into the back of my head. We stayed like that for a long time, grabbing and groping, pulling and pushing. When the kiss finally broke, we were both panting.
“Holy shit.” I shook my head. “That was…” I couldn’t find the right word to describe it.
But Colby did. “Just the beginning, sweetheart. That’s what it was.”
