15. Running With the Night
CHAPTER 15
Running With the Night
DUSTY
I stop, freezing on the spot. “Wait . . . you—you guessed it right?”
He’s smiling, that permanent look of joy etched all over his face. “I told you I would.”
“Then why did you say Divinity?” I ask bewildered. “You could’ve won the bet.”
He shrugs. “Buying you pizza seemed like a better prize.”
My mouth opens, my head spinning a million miles a minute. Not only did he manage to guess my name but he guessed wrong on purpose? What kind of guy does that? He gave up a sexy reward so he could buy me pizza?
He leans toward me and grasps my hand in his. “I can see you spiraling. Don’t get caught up in overthinking it. I like you, Dusty, and I want you to know that spending time with you is more important to me than what you do for work.”
My eyes dart over his face. Never has a guy passed up an opportunity for me to be sexual for them, and now here’s Joel wanting to spend time with me—the real me—real name and all.
“Are you okay?” he asks in my silence.
“Yeah . . . yeah, I—of course.”
“Come on, pizza’s on me, but I have to warn you . . . if you tell me pineapple on pizza is delightful, I might be devastated.”
I breathe out a laugh. “Who would say something so ludicrous?”
“A psychopath, clearly.”
He steers me over to the booths in the back, where we sit and order a large pepperoni and mushroom pizza and two Cokes. I lean on my hand while we wait for our food, studying him closely.
“What?”
“How did you guess my name?” I ask.
He shrugs. “I’m super smart, can’t you tell? Practically Sherlock Holmes.”
I roll my eyes, and he sighs.
“Okay, fine. I cheated. I saw a piece of mail on your kitchen counter when I was fixing the window.”
My mouth drops open. “What? You’ve known my name since then? Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because I wanted you to tell me, or at least be comfortable enough where I’d learn it and you wouldn’t get freaked out.”
“Joel—”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to . . . it was just there.”
I grasp his hand across the table. “No, it’s fine. Thank you.”
“For what?”
“For respecting my privacy—or at least trying to.”
He grins again, his eyes crinkling at the corners beautifully. “You’re welcome. Besides, I learned a lot about you from that little game. I have no regrets.”
Heat rushes into my cheeks, but I hide it behind my soda can. Am I going crazy? Is this really happening? Is this guy actually trying to win over my heart instead of just taking me to bed? And after everything I’ve told him?
But the way he’s looking at me now, head resting on his fist, his free hand wrapped around mine. The subtle stroke of his thumb on my skin. Maybe this is real .
“What are you thinking?” he asks.
I take a deep breath. “After pizza, do you think I could take you somewhere?”
He sits up a little straighter in the booth. “Oh, yeah. Sure. Is it far?”
I shake my head. “No, it’s actually close to the laundromat, but . . . it’s a tiny bit . . . illegal.”
“That settles it. I’m definitely intrigued.”
A bored-looking server sets down our pizza, grease from the pepperoni oozing off the plate. It looks incredible. I smile and grab a slice, waiting on him before taking a bite. He holds his slice out to me and we cheers the cheesy goodness together.
“To hopefully not getting arrested.”
* * *
“Where are we?” Joel asks, his hand in mine as I pull him down a deserted alley a few blocks from The Sudsy Dream. “You’re not going to murder me, are you?”
I smirk and make eye contact while walking backward. “I have considered it. But Stella knows we’re out together. She’d turn me in for sure if you ended up missing.”
“At least someone’s looking out for me.”
“It’s just through here,” I say, stepping toward a metal door at the back of a dilapidated brick building. I drop Joel’s hand in order to pull two pins out of my hair, then insert them into the lock.
“Whoa whoa whoa,” Joel says, coming to stand next to me. “When you said illegal . . . I didn’t expect to add breaking and entering to our date itinerary.”
Worry lines crease his forehead. It’s sweet. “You scared?” I tease.
A pink flush rises in his cheeks, but he relaxes back against the brick with an air of indifference. “Of the cops? Hardly. Of you taking advantage of me in a dark abandoned building? Absolutely.”
I laugh, then return to picking the lock. “Don’t worry, darlin’, you’ll leave with your honor intact.”
He grins. “Bummer.”
The lock clicks open, and the door pulls free of the frame with a loud, rusty squeak. Stuffing the pins back into my hair, I grab Joel’s hand and draw him into the darkness. The door slams shut behind us, and it’s silent except for our breathing and the feel of his warm hand in mine. The pulse of his heart beats through his palm as he squeezes me tighter, dependent on me to keep from floating into the dark unknown.
“Wait here,” I whisper.
“What?” he whispers back in a panic as my fingers slip away from his. “You’re coming back, right?”
I chuckle as I walk across the floorboards, my heels clicking in the quiet. “Maybe. Now, cover your eyes.”
“My eyes?”
Hand reaching along the brick wall, I find the heavy lever and push upward, the lights bursting to life.
“Ah!” Joel cries, and I spot him on the opposite side of the stage with his fists in his eyes.
“I told you to cover your eyes,” I say.
He shakes his head. “I’m terrible at following directions.” His head swivels as he takes in the surroundings. “Is this . . . a theater?”
My eyes scan the area before us. “It’s an old movie theater—The Sapphire. They closed down years ago, but I guess they forgot to turn off the electricity.” I look around at the red velvet curtains hanging down the proscenium of the stage where we stand. There’s a massive screen behind us and out ahead are rows and rows of gold and red velvet chairs. The ceiling is vaulted, crown moldings with such ornate detail they look like they should be in a museum. But the best part is the chandelier that illuminates the seating area.
“Wow,” he whispers. “This is incredible.”
“Yes, it is. Want to know the best part?”
He nods.
“They also left their movie collection and projector.”
“Oh?”
I walk toward the front of the stage toward the stairs and out into the audience. “I come here sometimes to watch old movies.”
He shoves his hands into his pockets. “If you want to go on a movie date, I have money. Remember? Rockstar?”
I swat him playfully. “Where’s the fun in that?”
With a shake of his head and a bite of his lip, he opens his hands to me. “Let’s watch one then.”
It’s hard to contain my smile. “What do you want to watch?”
“ To Catch a Thief. ”
I blink. “Really?”
“Yeah, I got you that poster. I should see it in context.”
A warmth spreads through my chest. It’s been so long since a guy has taken interest in me and my passions. But Joel? No one has ever made me feel this way since . . .
“Okay,” I say, blinking back tears I won’t let fall. “Pick a seat and I’ll be right back.”
I’m like a teenager again, giddy and bouncing around. Peeking through the projector window, I watch as Joel weaves his way through the rows, his hand gliding along the velvet seats. His long dark hair shines like silk in the light from the chandelier. He’s so beautiful. I can’t wait to hear him play the guitar. My stomach flips. I suppose I have a subconscious thing for musicians. What are the odds that he’s a guitarist in a famous rock band? How will it feel if he plays for me? Will it be liberating? Or will the déjà vu be too painful to bear?
With the movie reel on the projector, I dim the lights and start the machines, then make my way back down to him. There’s a crackling from the speakers coming to life, then a beam of light as the projector lights up the screen. The opening overture of the film sings through the air and I’m greeted by the title sequence. The names Cary Grant and Grace Kelly appear on the screen followed by the title To Catch a Thief .
A moment later, I’m sliding into the seat next to Joel, and his hand finds mine instantly.
“I can’t believe you haven’t seen this before,” I whisper.
He leans toward me. “I’m more of a horror guy myself. Met one of my bandmates at a showing of Evil Dead . But I’ll try anything once.”
Satisfied, I turn back to face the front. “I think I’ve seen this movie a hundred times.”
He tilts his head. “Why so many?”
“I like the mystery, the action . . . the romance.” I watch from my periphery as his eyes briefly flick to mine. “Besides, it’s one of the only movies I could get my hands on as a kid. My parents . . . they didn’t let me watch movies in the house.”
“At all?” he asks.
I shake my head. “My dad—he didn’t just hate the public school system, he also hated Hollywood.”
“I’m sorry.”
I lean a little closer. “Don’t be. I still found a way, just needed to be a bit sneakier.”
He smiles. “Hence knowing how to break into abandoned theaters?”
“Exactly.”
We watch in silence for a while as Cary Grant’s character, who’s a retired cat burglar, has to escape a group of thugs who believe he’s behind a new slew of burglaries. He’s helped in his escape by Grace Kelly.
Even though it’s my favorite film, I admit that it’s hard to pay attention when Joel’s eyes continuously watch me. His calloused thumb brushes the palm of my hand, and I find myself leaning into him, relaxing into his body as the movie goes on.
“It’s too bad this place is abandoned,” Joel whispers. “It’s a gorgeous theatre.”
I nod. “I know, right? I can’t help but think of all the things I would do if I bought it.”
“What would you do?”
“Host movie nights. Feature concerts for local talent. Maybe even have acting and art classes for kids,” I say thoughtfully.
“That sounds amazing,” he replies.
I sigh longingly. “If only I could win the lottery, huh?”
He doesn’t respond, and we spend the next several minutes watching the movie in silence.
“So do you bring all of your adoring fans here?” he whispers.
“Fans?”
“You know, the other poor saps who see you while they’re washing their underwear and fall head over heels.”
I scoff. “Hardly. I don’t . . . I don’t really date much.”
“Why not? Surely it’s not for lack of attention. Since we’ve been on our date I’ve seen no less than ten guys I wanted to pummel because they were looking at you like their next meal.”
“I guess I’m just not one for relationships,” I say, crossing and uncrossing my legs. “It’s my job,” I admit. “Not many guys are willing to date a sex worker. I mean, they all think it’s great at first. The fact that I was a stripper and got naked for money means I’m super keen to fuck all the time, right? And now the phone sex thing? I must be a goddess in bed if all I do day and night is talk dirty. But then they quickly realize that I’m not the fantasy they thought I was.”
Joel is quiet for a long moment, then his free hand reaches out toward me. His finger traces the shape of my jaw, then the backs of his fingers brush along my cheek. The gentle touch of his hand on my skin electrifies every cell in my body. Finally, his fingers gently grasp my chin and tilt my face up to look at him. His eyes are serious, even though his mouth still holds that faint trace of humor.
“Then those guys are idiots,” he says. “Anyone who bothered to get to know you would know that this version of you is the best.”
My eyes begin to sting with emotion, and his gaze drops to my mouth, the slow-motion feeling of him leaning toward me shredding down my walls with such ease.
“Hey, you! You two can’t be in here!”
We whip around to find a police officer with a flashlight pointed right at us.
“Oh, shit,” I say, and before I can even think, I’m on my feet and grabbing Joel’s hand—pulling him down the aisle then up toward the stage.
“Stop! Stop right there!” the officer calls, his flashlight bouncing around the dark space as he chases us.
“Come on,” I say with a laugh, “I don’t feel like getting arrested today.”
“Me neither.” He chuckles breathily behind me.
The officer continues to yell after us, and before I know it we’re bursting through the back door and out into the alley.
“This way,” I say, pulling on his arm, the two of us laughing as we run.
My heart races, adrenaline pumping through my veins. This guy must think I’m crazy. Or maybe his crazy matches my own. Maybe that’s why he’s laughing with me and not running away.
“Where are we going?” he asks.
“Anywhere that isn’t here,” I heave out.
His fingers tighten around mine, and with a renewed sense of confidence we run, laughing at the way the officer shouts for us to stop.
When we turn another corner, I stop, Joel knocking right into me. “What are you?—”
“Quick, in here,” I say, jerking my chin over my shoulder. There’s a small raised alcove of bricks that has just enough space to hide two people, and with the sound of the officer catching up, I rush to pull myself up into it. Joel grins widely then follows, and we fall back into the shadow of our hiding place.
The sound of clunky footsteps approach and I hold my breath, squeezing farther into the darkness and realizing for the first time that Joel’s arm is wrapped around my waist. He seems to realize too, his lips parting. “Dusty?—”
My other hand clamps down on his mouth to keep him from saying anything more. His eyes widen but he stills.
“Where did those assholes go?” we hear, and I see the way Joel’s eyes look in the direction of the police in alarm. But I can’t stop from staring at his face. His tanned skin and laugh lines. The warm amber of his eyes and his silky black hair.
I lower my hand from his mouth. “Sorry,” I whisper.
He blinks. “It’s fine.”
The footsteps are gone now, but I can’t let him go. He smells like expensive cologne, and I’m reminded of our first encounter in Vegas. How it felt to have his body so close to mine. How desperate I was for him to touch me where he wasn’t allowed. How even now the spot between my legs throbs wantonly for it.
“I know you think you have to hide your real self from me,” he whispers, “but you don’t.”
My lips part, and he sweeps his thumb along my bottom lip. I inhale sharply, and his fingers tighten their grip on my waist just like they did two years ago, the memory of those beautiful bruises flooding my mind.
“I saw you. I’ve seen you. And I still want more.”
He drops his gaze to my lips, his hand gripping the nape of my neck before pulling me into a devastating kiss. We crash and roll and rumble—like the merging of two seas. Rough and fierce, soft and exquisite, all at the same time. He holds me to him, my body melting into his as though he’s the missing piece to my complicated jigsaw puzzle.
Then it becomes so real for just a moment, and I see our future: a big house, and friends, and children, and my cat growing old . . . and the breath rushes out of my lungs so fast I need to push him away to breathe. He doesn’t let go, but I feel him take a breath as I gulp down air, trying not to panic as I let myself think of a future I haven’t dared dream of in a decade.
“You’re going to see something you don’t like,” I whisper. “Everyone always does.”
He presses his lips together then tucks back a stray curl that falls across my forehead. “Then they were blinded by the moon when there was an entire sky of stars.”
He kisses me again and as our lips dance, euphoria washes away all of the doubt.