Wild Thing

11. Eleven

Eleven

W e arrived at the most beautiful home precinct, where a dozen stores, ranging from lighting to tiles and furniture, lined the block.

Brax hopped out of the truck, giving me a couple of crucial seconds to scrape myself up off the floor. I had melted into it during the song which was the soundtrack to the movie that was now somehow my life.

He opened the door for me, because of course he fucking did.

“This block is elite. All of these stores stock a lot of exclusive shit, stuff you can’t just get anywhere. Quality is unmatched too. I’ve used materials from a few of these brands,” Brax explained as he walked towards the lighting store. “I noticed in your renderings the uplighting you’re wanting to achieve. These guys are the best.”

Adjusting my dress, I briskly walked to catch up with him.

“Brax, I don’t need to select the lighting right now.”

“I know,” he said, stopping to wait for me. He waited until I was in front of him before he continued. “But that’s not really why we’re here.”

“Why are we here then?”

Brax reached forward and lightly picked up my hand. He spun my rings around so they were all facing skyward. Still, he didn't answer me. Instead, he laid his stormy eyes on mine.

This was dangerous territory. Of course I knew why we were really there, but I wanted to hear him say it.

It was because we couldn’t stay away from each other.

It was a test in temptation. And I'd never been any good at tests.

I sighed and looked around.

I should make the most of it and seek inspiration in these stores . Spending time with Brax was a fortuitous bonus.

“Okay, show me around.”

***

“This tile has a beautiful texture,” I said to no one in particular, noting down the serial number and price in my phone.

We’d been browsing the homewares stores for nearly an hour and I was pleasantly surprised at how beneficial this unexpected trip had been.

“You should have a really solid list by now,” Brax replied. "I knew you'd like seeing these stores."

He’d been super helpful, brainstorming, sharing his ideas and knowledge with me. We were actually working brilliantly together. Sexual tension aside, we made a pretty good team. I let my mind wonder to what could have been if I’d returned to Grey’s Forest instead of White Point. It wasn't unusual for building companies to have interior designers on the team.

We might have been a dominant force, the two of us together.

“So, give me an insight into future Dylan. What is it that she wants?”

A probing question.

I grazed my hand over another textured tile sample. “I’d love my own consultancy one day.”

“It’s all possible.”

“That’s why I need to do a kick ass job on this Studio Pase build. It’s the large scale project my portfolio needs.”

"You will. The plans are strong, Dyl."

Brax's approval made me blush. "Thanks."

"You're blushing."

"What? No, I'm not!"

"Don't be embarrassed. It's cute."

"I'm not blushing, Brax."

"You are. Your cheeks are rose pink," he said. He reached over and gently grazed the back of his knuckles across my cheeks. "It makes your little freckles pop."

I looked up at him underneath my lashes.

What was only a second or two, felt like minutes, as we paused. The urge to kiss him was too much, so I scrunched up my nose and playfully slapped his arm. It was like hitting a tree trunk.

Brax cleared his throat. “Greg’s loyal too. If he likes your style, he’ll continue to hire you, no matter where you work. Even if you do end up working for yourself.”

"So, we might be destined to work together forever?"

"Does that scare you?"

The thought didn't frighten me. It excited me. And I felt guilty as hell for feeling joy at the idea of Brax and I taking on the world as a team.

But that was a pipe dream. We lived in different states, and had partners waiting at home for us. I really needed to reign in my unrealistic fantasies.

We continued to browse the aisle.

“The older I get though, the more I doubt myself," I confessed. "I don't know if I have what it takes to run my own business.”

Brax pretended he was interested in the tiles, but I could tell he was thinking about his next words carefully.

“That doesn’t sound like you," he said, still staring at the tiles. "The girl I know would do it no matter what.”

Brax made a good point, one that hit me right in the nerves. Zack had slowly beaten to death that risk-taking side of me. That spontaneous part of my personality that I used to wear like a badge of honor.

I missed that part of myself. I liked her.

“I’ve listened to opinions that I shouldn’t have, I guess.”

I remembered the last time I told Zack that I wanted to start my own interior design consultancy. He was quick to remind me of what could go horribly wrong if I left my secure, well paying job.

“It’s a gamble, the odds are stacked against you. Be a realist,” Zack had said, dismissing me.

I wanted to scratch his eyes out for that buzzkill remark. I never did share anything like that with him again.

But with Brax? He was a dreamer. Like I used to be.

Brax turned and faced me.

“Dyl, if I’d listened to all of the opinions that were floating around when I wanted to buy Patch and Sons, I wouldn’t have put all of my life savings on the line," he said, bracing an arm on the shelf. "And you know what?”

“What?”

“I wouldn’t be rich as fuck now.”

We laughed. Talking so freely and vulnerably felt good. It felt natural. I hadn't had a genuine conversation like this in what felt like forever. It made me realize just how disconnected I was to Zack.

I felt my expression slowly change to one of sadness.

Brax raised his hand to my face, cupped my chin and tilted it towards him. “Whoever dimmed that spark in you doesn’t deserve you.”

I already felt guilty about flirting and hanging out with Brax. But each time Brax showed kindness or affection towards me, I edged a little closer to crossing the line.

I started to feel very, very sure that I wanted Brax. I knew my body wanted him, that much was obvious. And now that we were having these deep conversations, I knew I wanted him in other ways too.

I wanted to tell him everything about my life—how lonely and isolated I'd become—but I couldn’t. Instead, I slammed up my walls and turned away from him.

Brax released his hand from my chin. “If you want something bad enough, you’ll do what it takes to make it happen."

“And what if it doesn’t work?”

“Even if it doesn't work, you still win, Dyl. It takes guts to do something that frightens you. That sort of bravery will take you far.”

Feeling slightly emotional at his unwavering belief in me, I turned back towards him. I studied his facial features. His beautiful full lips, his structured jaw, and those eyes that were made in heaven, but could look like hell.

I decided to drop my walls. Just a little bit. “It's been a long time since anyone has believed in me,” I whispered. “All I hear from Zack are phrases like ‘Be realistic,’ and ‘In the real world.’ I haven't had much encouragement… or support.”

It felt weird mentioning Zack’s name to Brax.

A flash of anger flayed across his face.

“Zack, huh?” Brax looked as if he wanted to say more, but thought the better of it. “You know what those phrases will do to you, Dylan?”

My eyes were wide as I waited for the answer.

Brax turned away from me and faced the shelf, pretending to look at the tiles stacked up neatly against each other. “They’ll kill you over time."

His mood had definitely shifted. I knew bringing up Zack was a stupid idea. I felt like an idiot. I wanted to go back into the flirty bubble we'd been in just a few minutes ago.

“Are you okay?" I asked.

Brax continued to stare at the tiles, refusing to look at me. “It pisses me off hearing his name, but it fucking makes me rage knowing he doesn’t support or believe in you.”

My eyes stung, tears threatening to spill. Which took me by surprise as I wasn't a cryer.

Finally, Brax faced me and took a small step, closing the gap between us.

I stayed frozen to the floor as he gently lifted my chin up towards his face, his thumb grazing over my bottom lip.

My eyes closed as he dropped his voice. “I’m sad that the most confident, fiery woman I’ve ever met has let someone cloud her belief in what she’s capable of."

He moved his hand toward the side of my face, tucking a wispy flyaway behind my ear.

I stayed completely still, wishing he would just kiss me, right there in the tiling superstore, sandwiched between the ceramic and terrazzo tile samples.

I felt him lean in closer.

I opened my eyes, our lips were so close to touching.

Please, please, please, just fucking kiss me.

Our intimate moment was interrupted by a shrill ringing.

Brax’s phone.

The moment shattered into a thousand pieces.

He dropped his hand from my face and pulled his phone out of his back pocket. He stared at it, unblinking, as if he was considering whether he should answer it or not.

I could tell by the way he hesitated that it was her.

His girlfriend.

“What’s her name?”

“Ally,” he answered. “I better take it.”

Brax turned away and stalked down the aisle to answer the call out of earshot. I remained where I was, struggling to contain the jealousy I felt towards the woman on the other end of the phone.

***

Stuck in traffic on the way to the convention center, I flicked through the paint samples and brochures of flooring options. It was futile though as my thoughts were dominated by Brax’s girlfriend.

Did she miss him? Were they arguing? What’s their relationship like? He said he was unhappy, but was he really?

I knew absolutely nothing about their relationship, but Brax somehow seemed to know everything about mine. It was a weak position to be in.

“What are you thinking?” Brax asked.

I blew out a long breath before answering. “If polished concrete or hardwood floors are more suitable for the downstairs area.”

He scoffed, as if that was the funniest thing he’d ever heard.

“What?" I dropped my eyes back to the brochures, skimming them again. “You don’t think either of those options will work? Why, what are you thinking?”

He clicked his jaw and dragged his hands down both sides of the steering wheel. “You’ve gotta stop asking me what I’m thinking.”

Shooting him an incredulous look, I shoved the brochures back inside my handbag, stationed between my feet on the floor. “Excuse me for valuing your opinion.”

“It’s not that, Dyl.”

“What is it then?”

“It’s you,” Brax snapped. “I can’t stop thinking about you. When I’m not with you, I’m thinking about how I can see you. And then when I’m with you, it’s fucking torture because I can’t touch you.”

I blinked, startled. My mouth went completely dry as my heart raced with his brash admission.

“I’m sorry,” he quickly replied. “That was… I honestly don’t know what’s happening to me.”

He ran his hand through his hair, before dropping it into his lap. He frowned. At what, I wasn't sure. His vulnerability perhaps. I watched him for a moment, because honestly?

I didn’t know what was happening either.

This time, it was me reaching for his hand in his lap.

His gaze dropped to where my fingers were delicately wrapping around his. The invisible, but very much real, energy that charged between us was undeniable. There was something unseen that had complete control over us. Drawing us together.

Whatever this was, I wanted him to know I felt it too. The connection between us had never faded.

“This can’t be anything,” I lied, my voice hoarse. “We’re just friends.”

Keeping his eyes on the road, Brax squeezed my hand firmly.

“Yep," he agreed. "Friends."

The repeated words hung heavy, but our hands remained interlaced. We spent the rest of the trip in silence, neither one of us believing a goddamn word we said.