Draw Me In (5 page)

“
Figured we should celebrate.
”
He tugged on the refrigerator door
handle and got out a half-empty bottle of Chardonnay and began filling our
glasses nearly to the brim. Yellow liquid caught glints of light from the
halogen bulbs over us and turned the wine into gold, Midas from a bottle.

I
swirled it. I was such a lightweight and hardly had much in my stomach, so this
would definitely be enough to get me more than a bit tipsy. Tipsy was okay
because it was still in the
I-think-I-can-dance-well-enough-to-audition-for-So-You-Think-You-Can-Dance
realm. Hammered was encroaching on the
I-just-won-the-mirrorball-on-Dancing-With-the-Stars-and-I
’
m-dancing-the-Cha-Cha-with-Maksim-Chmerkovskiy-to-celebrate-my-victory
territory.

Ian
doesn
’
t
let me get hammered anymore.

“
We
’
re celebrating me landing my first
big gig, and you hiring me as your agent.
”

“
But you know I can
’
t pay you, Ian. We can
’
t really call it hiring.
”
I took a slow sip. The wine was cool
sliding down my throat, yet I instantly felt the heat of alcohol webbing out
warmly through my veins.
“
Hardly
seems fair.
”

“
You can pay me in the form of
delicious portraits like the one you did of me today.
”

“
Isn
’
t someone vain?
”
I choked, taking another refreshing
swig from my glass. That hot/cold dichotomy presented itself again in my mouth
and bloodstream.

“
Only because you made me look that
good, Jules.
”

“
I had a great subject to work with.
Seriously, Ian. Your back is amazing.
”

Refilling
his glass with wine, he chuckled,
“
So
’
s my front.
”

“
I didn
’
t really focus on that part. Sorry,
”
I smiled, twisting the stem of my
glass back and forth. The late afternoon rays streamed through our tall windows
and coupled with the lighting, catching the etchings in the crystal at the
perfect geometric angle. Prisms of blue and yellow and red danced across the
wall, a kaleidoscope of color.
“
When
’
s your shoot?
”

Ian
downed the remainder of the bottle, which would be enough to get most people
drunk, but he usually could hold his liquor, all while avoiding dancing, unlike
myself. In the four years I
’
d
known him, I
’
d
only seen Ian wasted two times. The first was when his dad told him he was
pulling all of the money for tuition until his
“
gay son straightened his life out.
”
The second was when Ian was offered
full financial assistance just two weeks later after applying for a scholarship
with the Hartwell Foundation. Once to drown his sorrows, the other to celebrate
his victory. If there were ever appropriate reasons for getting drunk, I
supposed those two were pretty damn good.

“
They asked me to stop by his office
tomorrow morning to check out the layout and lighting. The shoot is scheduled
for Friday. Wanna tag along as my assistant? You
’
re more than welcome.
”

“
You know I would, but I
’
ve got a morning shift at the
coffeehouse,
”
I groaned.

A
frown pulled down Ian
’
s
mouth in disappointment.
“
See,
another reason why you need to free up your schedule by quitting that
minimum-wage job.
”

“
How about this: you find me that
high-paying internship, and I
’
ll
consider retiring my apron and coffee grinder.
”

“
Deal.
”
Lifting my barely-touched glass to
his lips, Ian stole a long swallow and said,
“
So long lattes. Hello Benjamins.
”

“
I think you have your work cut out
for you, Ian.
”

“
I think I have
your
work cut out for me, Jules.
”

I
yanked my glass out of his hand and drank from it slowly, allowing the liquid
to trickle into my mouth and throat as a steady stream.

I
wasn
’
t
sure I liked the thought of leaving my family at the coffeehouse, but the idea
of starting something new did fill me with an excitement and anticipation I
hadn
’
t
experienced in quite a while. I was in need of an adventure, and since I didn
’
t have any upcoming travels planned,
my adventure would just have to take place close to home.

Plus,
the coffee cup was beginning to feel like a pretty small canvas. Maybe it was
time for something more. I supposed I would just wait to see if Ian could find
me that bigger canvas I craved. Knowing him and his affinity for coming to my
rescue on all occasions, I had a feeling he would.

CHAPTER
FOUR

“
One small, decaf, nonfat, white
mocha.
”

I
set the drink on the bar without looking up and began working on the next order
in the line of cups that crowded my counter. For a fleeting moment, I almost
thought about scooping them up to perform my own rendition of Anna Kendrick
’
s cups song, but I
’
d attempted that 27 consecutive times
one night when left alone in the stock room to sort lids. Consequently, I
’
d been banned not only from singing,
but from holding more than three cups at once in the coffeehouse. It seemed
like a very silly, but necessary rule.

“
Miss Thornton,
”
Eva smiled, curling her fingers
around the foam and standing up on tiptoe to spy me over the partition. She
grabbed a cardboard sleeve from the tray next to her and slipped it onto her
drink, a parchment sweater hugging her cup.

“
Eva! I
’
m so sorry. I didn
’
t even see you!
”
Wiping my hands on my apron, I slid
out from behind the barista station and wrapped her into my chest.
“
What are you doing out of school so
early?
”
I glanced to the clock on the wall. 11:00 am.

“
I have independent study right now.
Thought I
’
d
come down to visit my favorite teacher.
”

“
Aww.
”
I squeezed her tighter and her waves
of blonde hair tickled my nose. She smelled good, like sugar or cotton candy
—
some sweet mix of
the warm smells found at the carnival
’
s
midway. A pang of jealously briefly shot through me until I remembered how
lucky I was that I got my mocha-scented perfume for free.
“
I wish I was one that could give you
actual grades, because you
’
d
earn an A+ for that,
”
I laughed.
“
Do
you have some time? I can take my break as soon as I finish up the orders on
the counter. I
’
d
love to chat for a bit if you
’
re
free.
”

“
Yeah, of course.
”
When her eyes darted back and forth,
a typical act of avoidance, I knew there was more.
“
There
’
s something I kinda wanted to talk to
you about.
”

“
Sure thing.
”
I held her at arm
’
s length. There was a troubling fog
in her typically bright blue gaze and when she smiled, it didn
’
t reach her eyes but stayed frozen on
the lower half of her face. Something was definitely up.
“
Just gimme five, okay?
”

“
Mm-kay.
”
Eva pulled out a chair tucked under
a nearby table and slipped off her canvas backpack, which was decorated in
patches from at least eight different countries. She looked thin, with her
collarbones showing much more prominently than usual, her skin made sheer by
the pressure. The sharp bone of her elbows protruded to a point and dark
circles hung under her tired eyes. It worried me, and I was grateful for the
chance to catch up with her because it was evident that something was going on.

I
was hurrying to finish up my last coffee when Cara, my shift manager, scooted
another cup my way. I groaned under my breath as I rotated the clear plastic
cup to read the order she
’
d
penned in a permanent marker. The lines were still fresh, tacky black ink that
smudged against my thumb.

Quad
shot, iced Americano.

Someone
must not have gotten enough sleep last night, because that was enough caffeine
to wake the dead. A city full of zombies didn
’
t stand a chance against that order.
They
’
d
rattle to life with one whiff of the awakening aroma alone.

Waiting
for the espresso to brew, I tapped my fingers on the machine as I willed it to
work a little faster. Eva definitely came here to tell me something, and I was
eager to sit down with her to find out what that was.

Half
of my mind was present, going through the methodic motions of a routine
workday, the other half floating just outside myself, entering the sleepy realm
that doing something day-in and day-out created. So I was only partway present
when a low growling rumbled from within the chambers of the espresso maker.
Sure, I heard it, but I didn
’
t
register it, and those were two vastly different things because my reflexes
were no longer tied to my arms and hands or any part of my body, truthfully.

Before
I could identify the mechanic groaning as a real, tangible sound, steam shot
out from all angles, drenching me with boiling hot water as it fanned out
across my station like a possessed lawn sprinkler. From my hair to my shoes, I
was dripping with water. Gathering what I could find, I balled up every spare
towel within reach and shoved them onto the machine, which was now rattling
back and forth like a dryer set on a fast tumble.

“
A little help!
”
I called out over my shoulder,
keeping the rags pressed to the fire hydrant spray that quickly burned through
the fabric to sear my fingers. Instinctively (because I
’
d been snapped back into the here and
now and my instincts were working again), I dropped the cloth from my hands.
Water barreled out with a burst of pressure that hit hard against my clothes,
hair and skin, a firing squad of water guns, their only goal to assassinate me
with a deluge of water.

“
Here.
”

I
didn
’
t
recognize the voice and couldn
’
t
see through the droplets blurring my vision, but I was briskly elbowed out of
the way as a patron slipped out of his suit jacket and twisted it over the
machine to shield the onslaught of water. With his back to me, he tinkered with
some plumbing line behind the bar with one dexterous hand, holding his soaked
jacket in place with the other. After just a breath of a moment of fiddling,
the machine choked out one last exasperated gasp of steam and air and then
everything stopped. Everything except my heart, which had started its very own
Olympic-worthy sprint within my ribcage. It just won gold. I almost started
humming the national anthem to celebrate.

“
Holy crap! Thank you!
”
I screamed, ripping my hands through
my tangled mess of hair, brown made black by the liquid coating. The water
dripped from my eyes and my rescuer finally filtered into view.
“
Oh my God.
”

It
was him.

“
You okay?
”
He hadn
’
t turned to face me yet, but as he
slowly rotated on the heel of his Italian leather loafers, recognition swept over
his face and his mouth gaped open an inch. His jaw no longer worked as a hinge,
his eyelids no longer kept his eyes from springing out.

“
Yeah,
”
I breathed, wringing a section of my
hair into an already soaked towel. For the love of everything good, how on
earth did this man get here? Not even here meaning New York City, but here as
in my workstation and personal space. Wasn
’
t
this guy supposed to be in Italy? I mean, at least when I fantasized about him
daily like he was the star of my own personal romance novel, that was always
the scene and location for those very farfetched, yet equally hot, dreams.

I
could hardly swallow the saliva in my mouth. My tongue was a useless limp
muscle, numbed into ineffectiveness. Against all odds, I managed to work out
the words,
“
Your
jacket.
”

“
Is fine,
”
he said in a rush, slipping his arms
into the sleeves.
“
Okay.
”
He pulled them out and instead
folded the coat in half over his left forearm.
“
Maybe it
’
s a little wet.
”

“
A little?
”
I tried not to laugh and tucked my
giggle behind my palm.
“
It
’
s drenched.
”

“
Just some hot water.
”
Oh my lanta, his smile just about
turned me into a puddle on the floor and that was the last thing this
coffeehouse needed. It already looked like the fire sprinklers had been cranked
on full force. Cara and my other coworkers were busy sopping up the inches of
groundwater with a mop and a roll of paper towels at our feet. Me melting into
that mess would only exacerbate the situation.

“
It
’
s a lot of hot water.
”

His
eyes slivered with the upward push of a smile.
“
I
’
ve been in hot water before
—
not exactly like
this
—
but
I assure you, it
’
s
fine.
”

 
Yes
you are,
I thought in my head and in my stomach that clenched just like
that twisted, wrung out towel
.

“
Can I at least have it dry cleaned
for you?
”
I hesitated, wanting to ask if he remembered me from the museum, but the desire
got trapped in my throat, along with my breath. Even the disheveled way his
button up shirt plastered itself across his chest with the weight of water was
irresistible. I wanted to offer to have that shirt dry cleaned too, just to
have an excuse to peel it off of his slick skin.

“
It
’
s just water. It
’
ll dry.
”
A coy grin burst onto his face as he
said,
“
But
you owe me a coffee. I was counting on that caffeine to shoot some life into
these veins.
”

“
Late night?
”
Why did I just say that? Was I
seriously implying that this guy had been up doing lordy knows what? And how
was that any of my business? I needed to shut my mouth and turn off my
inquisitive mind. I had no right to that information.

“
Yes. It was.
”

Damn.
That wasn
’
t
the answer I wanted to hear.

“
I
’
m working on a tight deadline and was
at the office until 3:00.
”
Much better response. I could infer several different scenarios from that, none
of which made me too jealous.
“
You?
”
He leaned his backside into the bar
and crossed his ankles. I wasn
’
t
sure why he was still standing behind the counter with me, but I wasn
’
t about to complain. He could tell me
I had to translate the entire Encyclopedia Britannica into Sanskrit and I
wouldn
’
t
complain. I think the only thing that
would
make me complain would be if he suddenly left his place directly in front
of me.
“
You
up all night gawking at naked men?
”

Shit.
(That was not an example of a
good
dramatic expletive).

“
Um.
”
My heart thundered violently inside
my chest like a jackhammer chiseling through asphalt.
“
No.
”
The fiery blush of embarrassment
licked my cheeks and I could feel them singe with heat.

This
was getting awkward. Or more awkward. The whole wet t-shirt contest thing had
already ushered us into the awkward arena.

“
Is that just a thing you do while on
vacation?
”

“
N-n-n-o,
”
I stammered as though I had some
sort of speech impediment. Where did my ability to speak coherently go?
“
Not just on vacation.
”

“
So you check out naked men in the
states, too?
”
Holy heck his smile was nearly 1,000 watts. How was it possible for someone
’
s teeth to illuminate like that? I
shook my head quickly to regain what little bearings I had left, but he
continued challenging me with his devilishly enticing grin.