What the Lightning Sees: Part Two (5 page)

I pressed the intercom and was buzzed in without a greeting. When I arrived at her apartment, Jenny flung the door open.

“Who knew? Haven’s hot,” Jenny said excitedly, her eyes wide. “I’m styling her, it’s so much fun. She has color in her wardrobe, Harry! Colors that aren’t black and gray. Can you believe it?”

I forced a grin at her. I knew Haven well enough to guess that when she was with people she trusted, like Ash and Luke, she became more colorful in every way. I didn’t want Jenny to know that too—it made me just another work colleague.

“I’m going to get you to come and photograph her amongst a mountain of discarded clothing options. Sound good?”

“Sure,” I replied.

“You’re not very talkative. Are you okay?” she asked, leading me down a corridor.

“I’m fine. Just want to get this right. I didn’t bring any lighting or anything, so I’m not sure how it’s going to look.” We passed a huge mirror taking up most of one wall that had sticky notes and postcards plastered all over it. I wanted to stop to take it in, but Jenny was excited to get started and I was moved on quickly.

“Don’t worry, it’ll be fine. We want them to look like they’ve just been snapped by a girlfriend.”

Haven had her back to us as we walked into the dimly lit room. “Can you zip me up, Jenny?” she asked as she squirmed, trying to fasten the back of the dress herself. The curve of her neck was revealed as she scooped her hair up, out of the way of the zipper. My blood started to heat. Memories of my lips pressed against that exposed flesh punctuated my breathing. I hovered in the doorway, not wanting to make things worse by being closer to her. It wasn’t meant to feel like this. I was supposed to be fine with her decision to end things. I was supposed to be over her.

Jenny hurried over and zipped up the back of the dress. I tried not to look at Haven, but it was impossible. She was beautiful. She always was, but it was the way she was so unaware of it—totally oblivious to the effect she had on me. I couldn’t stop trailing my glance up and down her body, taking her in as if she were still mine, pausing on the curve of her hip, then the roundness of her ass. I was pulled out of my thoughts by an awareness that she was wearing this dress for another man. On second thought, it seemed kinda short and very tight.

“Let’s get a look at you,” Jenny said.

Haven turned and something popped inside me. I had to dip my eyes from her. I couldn’t bear to see her excited about the evening. I scanned the rest of the room, looking anywhere but Haven. It was my first time in her bedroom. I hadn’t expected it to be under these circumstances. I’d wanted to be in here after Paris. I slid my eyes over the patterned bed quilt that was worn and homemade, and then to the metal-framed bed. We could have had some fun, tying Haven to that. Watching her come as if it were the first time her body had ever felt anything like it.

Jenny poked me in the ribs, pulling me out of my fantasy just before I lost myself in it. “See, what did I tell you? She’s hot. Give us the man’s perspective. What do you think?”

“You look beautiful, Haven,” I said, trying to sound as detached as possible, as I attempted to conceal that all I wanted to do was peel her out of that dress and tie her down. She was stunning. As I met her eyes, she seemed unsure. She was pulling on the inside of her cheek with her teeth. She had no reason to doubt herself. I smiled gently and she caught my eye, then looked away quickly as if she’d remembered herself.

“Do you think it’s right for a first date?” Jenny asked, turning her head toward me.

“I have no idea what your objective is, so I can’t comment,” I said. If she was going out with me, she could dress in a garbage bag for all I cared.

“We’re trying to find her a man, silly. She’s bound to impress in this.”

“I’m not wearing it. It’s too short. This guy could be a total pervert. And it’s too dressy for dinner,” Haven said.

“I’m not going to let you wear black, just be warned, but okay, let’s photograph it and then we can put in the article why we didn’t choose it. I’m going to pick something else out.”

Haven stood awkwardly as I took out my camera. “Why don’t you go and stand by the mirror—you can pretend you’re trying to decide if it’s right.”

She nodded and moved across the room.

“What about this? Great color,” Jenny shouted from the closet, holding up the red dress Haven had worn in Paris.

I watched for Haven’s reaction and she flicked her eyes quickly to mine, and then back to Jenny. “Not that one.”

“But it’s awesome. It will go beautifully with your hair,” Jenny said.

“No, not that one. What about the electric-blue, one-shoulder number? It’s Ash’s. She makes me wear it sometimes.”

Jenny was easily dissuaded.

I took a dozen or so shots, not bothering too much with setting, or direction. I just wanted to get this over with.

“I’ll go and wait in the living room while you change,” I said.

“Okay,” Haven replied without meeting my eyes.

I wandered back down the hall. The sitting room was bright and warm. There was none of the order that I might have expected of Haven. On her sofa, there were a thousand mismatched cushions. On a dresser in the corner, there was a collection of frames. I drew closer and saw pictures of Ash, Haven and Luke through the years. At the very back was a picture of what looked like her mother and father on their wedding day. Then another of what I could only assume were her parents, her and Luke. What all the shots had in common was that they showed a carefree, happy Haven. The Haven that, for a brief moment, I’d known.

“Harry, get in here,” Jenny called.

“This is totally the date dress, isn’t it, Harry?” Jenny asked, her attention focused on Haven. “It’s not too tight—it just hugs in all the right places.”

“I don’t know,” Haven said, sounding unsure.

Haven looked incredible. The dress came to well below her knees and her perfect tits were well covered, but the fact was, any guy was going to be imagining every inch of her body underneath that dress. It clung to her like a second skin. The room seemed to close in on me as her vulnerability and uncertainty hit me, mixing with images of her writhing on her quilt under my tongue.

I started taking shots in the hope that the camera would hide my desire, which I was sure showed all over my face.

“I think it’s too informal. It’s just jersey,” Haven said to Jenny as if I wasn’t there.

“No, if we add on some jewelry, it will be perfect. You don’t want to seem as if you’re trying too hard.”

“Jenny, I’m not going there to impress anyone, remember? This is work.”

“For crying out loud. First rule of dating, Haven—just because you don’t like them doesn’t mean you don’t want them to worship you.”

“That’s a stupid rule,” Haven replied.

“Says the single girl,” Jenny said. “Anyway, I thought we were doing three outfits. There might be something better in there.”

“No, I’m done. I don’t care enough about this shit.”

Warmth spread inside me. I’d missed her feisty mouth and the way she had no time for things that would have kept women like Millie occupied for hours. She was special and I’d not fought for her.

Haven

“Perfect. Now, perfume, shoes and a bag and you’ll be done. Harry, can you order a cab?” Jenny asked as we finished up the date preparation.

“I’ve got the car. I’ll drive us. Are you coming, Jenny?”

“No, I’ll just get the tube.”

I needed some air, some space. Having Jake in my bedroom, taking my photograph was too much. It was as if I were faking it—trussed up like a prized cow, trying to present my best side, the side that wasn’t me. I couldn’t breathe. I was suffocating. I wanted to scream at them both to get out. I wanted to get a cab on my own, but now Jake was driving. This was too overwhelming, too confusing. Why was he here? Why were his kind smiles and his long fingers picking at the edge of my resolve?

“Okay, guys, I’m going this way,” Jenny said, pointing left as we got outside. “Good luck tonight, Haven. Let me know how it goes.”

“I don’t need luck. It’s not a date. It’s work,” I replied, being more scratchy than I’d intended.

“It doesn’t mean you can’t enjoy yourself,” she said as she headed off down the street.

“Thanks for your help,” I called after her.

Jake opened the car door for me as if it were our date. “You’ve brought the fuckmobile?” I asked, then immediately wished I hadn’t. I navigated my way gingerly into the car. I felt stupid dressed up like this for what was essentially a work meeting.

“It’s the weekend, give me a break,” he said, then closed the door as I got in. He rounded the hood and slid in the other side.

His proximity was more than distracting. I’d never been so aware of him physically. His denim-covered thighs tensed as he braked before a traffic light and I couldn’t pull my eyes away. He turned up the air and all I could think about was stroking his hand. The smell of him—that clean, warm, masculine smell—was all around me, making my skin buzz wherever it was exposed. I had to work to control my breathing, to stop myself reaching for him, to hold myself back from asking him to kiss me.

I needed out of the car.

“This feels weird,” I said, breaking our silence as we drove along Edgware Road, stopping at more traffic lights.

He nodded but didn’t say anything. Maybe it didn’t feel odd to him.

My phone buzzed. It was my date, Gerald, texting to say he’d arrived and was looking forward to seeing me. It was nice.

“That him?” Jake asked.

“Yeah. It’s work,” I said, for some reason, needing to explain getting a text from another man while I was with him.

“It is what it is,” he replied.

What did that mean? We drove the rest of the way in silence.

The nearest parking space was a block away from The Holly Club. Jake offered to drop me off, but I didn’t want to go inside and meet this guy on my own.

“Aren’t you going to struggle to walk in those?” Jake asked.

My cheeks heated as Jake glanced at my feet. The last time he’d noticed my shoes was in Paris. He’d told me he was going to fuck me in my heels. He’d made good on his promise. Jake’s eyes met mine and I quickly looked away.

“I’ll be fine. They’re not that high,” I muttered.

“The club is fine with me taking some shots?”

“Yes, Jenny checked.”

He held the door open for me and I stepped inside an oak-paneled hallway. A hostess stood behind a dark wooden table toward the rear of the space.

“Good evening, Mr. Harrison. Nice to see you,” she said, looking directly at Jake and ignoring me. Anger seared through me. Of course they would know him. I wondered how many women he’d brought to dinner here. “Are you planning to have a drink in the bar before going upstairs?” the hostess asked.

“Mr. Harrison is here to take some photographs. I’m here with
Rallegra
. My assistant should have arranged something?”

The hostess seemed confused.

“I’ll be having dinner afterward, Belinda. Please let me know if my guest arrives early,” Jake said.

Belinda smiled warmly. “Oh, I see. That’s fine. Let me take you through. So you’re Ms. Daniels?” she asked, looking at me. I nodded curtly.

“You’re eating? Here?” I whispered. “With Millie?” Was he trying to sabotage things, or make me jealous? The pieces weren’t fitting together properly.

“Yes to the dinner part and no, not with Millie. We broke up, I told you that. This is my Saturday night, Haven. There’s no reason I should waste it because I have to spend ten minutes taking some photos of you on your date.” He sounded exasperated and I hated myself for creating that in him. I wanted to be the cool, sexy girl he wished he hadn’t let get away.

Belinda led us down a dark corridor, where old satirical cartoons were displayed on the walls on either side of us. I turned back to Jake. “Why do you have to bring her here?” I said it before I realized that doing so gave away that it bothered me. I didn’t want to see Jake dating other women.

“What’s the problem? I’m a member here,” he replied.

I didn’t respond. I didn’t want to reveal anything else and Belinda was showing us into the bar.