Chapter 22
22
MADDIE
“ N o way. You went to a Kailin Madsen exhibit and she was actually there?” I’m downright fangirling over what James just told me as we’re waiting in line for tickets at the movie theater.
“Yeah, it was a trip for sure,” James answers. Kailin Madsen is one of my favorite contemporary artists, and James is telling me about how he went to one of her art openings in New York City over the summer. “My uncle’s an art dealer, so he was able to get me an invite.” He chuckles. “I was totally star-struck all night. The place was swarming with famous artists and critics.”
“Did you get to talk to her?” I ask eagerly.
“Nah,” he shakes his head. “She was swamped all night. Plus, I don’t think my mouth would have been able to work if I had the chance.”
It’s a beautiful night, the coldest of the season so far, but still not so cold that it’s uncomfortable. A chilly breeze blows down the street, rustling the gorgeous mustard-yellow leaves of the tree next to us. The street is bathed in the deep, warm orange of the streetlights, casting everything in a romantic hue.
“It must be cool having an art dealer for an uncle,” I say to James.
“Yeah, definitely. He’s the reason I got into art. He and my dad are really close, so he’d be around all the time, always showing me art books and talking about the art world.”
“That’s really cool. It would?—”
“Hey, look who it is!” A loud greeting from behind us cuts me off mid-sentence.
The feeling in my chest I always get from the low, gravelly timbre of that voice tells me who it is before I even turn around. And when I do, sure enough, I see Rhys—with a girl by his side.
Rhys is wearing a wax jacket with a button-up shirt underneath. The top button is undone, showing off a splash of the ink that covers his wide chest. My throat hitches at the sight.
My gaze ticks to the girl next to him. She’s tall, wearing a sweater and a tight pair of jeans that combine to show off her stunning hourglass figure. Her face is gorgeous. A pulse of jealousy twitches through me.
It’s stupid and selfish, but I don’t like seeing Rhys with other girls. I never have.
They stroll up right behind us in line. Rhys slinks his hands into the pockets of his jeans and rocks back on his heels. “What a coincidence,” he says.
“You’re seeing the movie, too?” I ask, trying to ignore what his sudden presence is doing to the muscles low in my core and between my legs. I shouldn’t be feeling hot and bothered by Rhys when I’m on a date with another guy.
“Yeah,” he answers, casual as can be. “I saw that Before Sunrise was playing. Thought it would be cool to see it after hearing so much about it.”
Disappointment sticks in my chest. I’ve talked to him about wanting to watch this movie before. He saw it was playing, but wanted to see it on a date with another girl, not with me?
“Oh. Cool,” is all I can summon for an answer.
“I’m Amelia,” the girl he’s with says, throwing a quick wave at us. She’s introducing herself to be polite, but I get the sense that she’s not exactly happy that her date’s attention is suddenly on someone other than her. I nod and smile, introducing myself, too.
Rhys’s gaze slices to James. His expression seems to tighten, his brow lowering over his eyes. “Hey. Rhys.” He extends his hand.
“I’m James.” When James slides his hand into Rhys’s, I can tell from the way Rhys’s thick forearm muscles tense that he’s squeezing hard. James grimaces, shaking off his hand when Rhys finally relinquishes his grip.
The side of Rhys’s mouth ticks smugly. James flashes me a quick glance that seems to say, what’s his deal ? Awkwardness settles over the four of us.
“Well, I hope you two enjoy the movie,” I say to Rhys and his date, noticing the expression of impatience start to show on Amelia’s face.
Honestly, I get it, considering Rhys hasn’t even looked at her, much less talked to her, since I’ve seen them.
I turn around and step forward as the line starts to move, hoping to create some distance between our two pairs. Being on my first date is nerve-wracking enough; having Rhys Callahan as a spectator for it only makes it that much worse.
When James and I get our tickets, I walk toward the auditorium at a quicker-than-normal pace. Once we’re in our seats and Rhys and his date are somewhere on the other side of the room in theirs, I’ll feel more at ease.
The previews haven’t started yet, and the overhead lights are still on, so the audience is still buzzing with chatter as James and I take our seats. I try to forget about Rhys and the beautiful girl he’s with and settle back into my conversation with my date.
I’m not able to forget about Rhys for long, though. Because he lowers himself into the seat right next to me.
Sparks skitter over my skin when his arm brushes against mine. But instead of the usual giddy tension that settles in my stomach when I’m sitting next to him, this time it’s annoyance that rises to my chest.
Is he doing this on purpose? Does he not trust me to handle myself on a date, even though I’m twenty years old and already living on my own?
His date clearly isn’t happy, either. She’s still standing next to him.
“Uh, here?” she questions, tilting an eyebrow.
“Yeah, here,” he answers, his voice strangely tight. “These seats have the best view.”
Frustration clouds her expression for a minute, but she shakes her head and sits with a muttered, “Whatever.”
These seats don’t have anything close to the best view. In fact, I intentionally guided James to kind of crappy seats because I assumed at least that way, Rhys and Amelia wouldn’t end up anywhere close to us.
I try to tune them out. I ask James about what some of his favorite and least favorite art classes were last year.
“I really liked the portraiture class I took,” he answers. “I’d never delved into portrait drawing before, so I learned a lot.”
“Oh, that’s really cool,” I answer. “I’ve never been good at detailed drawings of people. It’s one of my weaknesses I’m really hoping to work on with some classes.”
“What do you mean?” Rhys suddenly, brazenly butts in, turning from his own date and leaning over the armrest between us. “Don’t you remember that painting you made of the team in our gear last year? It was incredible.”
A knot of embarrassment tightens in my stomach. I don’t even know what to say to Rhys intruding in the middle of a conversation with my date like that.
As if his comment weren’t embarrassing enough, Rhys takes out his phone. “Look,” he says. He leans past me to show James the painting he was just talking about.
The set of Rhys’s brow is low and hard, and there’s a strange accusatory gleam in his eyes beaming right at James. The unpleasant knot in my stomach expands.
“Uh, yeah,” James reacts, clearly baffled and caught off guard, “it’s a good painting.”
Rhys scoffs. “Good? It’s great . You’re great at painting people, Maddie. Don’t let anyone tell you any different.”
With that, he shoots James another hard, accusing look, as if he criticized me rather than me just having a simple conversation with him about my strengths and weaknesses as an artist.
When Rhys turns away, James’s eyebrows draw together, and he gives me a questioning tilt of his head. Rhys is completely ruining my first date, and I wish I could turn around and punch him in the chest.
Did Lane put him up to this? Is he just doing this out of stupid, macho protectiveness?
I just shrug my shoulders and shake my head, too exasperated to know what to say.
The overhead lights turn off, and I’ve never been more thankful for movie previews in my life. At least for the next two hours, Rhys will have to keep his mouth shut.
I’ve been looking forward to watching this movie for years, but now that it’s playing in front of me, I can’t get into it. I’m too distracted by being mad at Rhys, by being embarrassed over having a catastrophe of a first date, by the feeling of Rhys’s jagged arm that’s crowding me thanks to his stupidly broad shoulders, by his characteristic woodsy scent that I can detect even over the smell of popcorn in the air.
When the movie ends, I practically push James up out of his seat and into the aisle, wanting to hasten out of this movie theater and away from Rhys.
If he tries to interject himself into any more of our date—if it’s even salvageable at this point—I don’t know if I’m going to be able to resist reaching out and pinching one of his nipples on his stupid, muscular, tattooed chest. He sure as heck deserves it.
When we exit the auditorium, though, James says he needs to go to the bathroom. This date is going bad enough that I hardly need to make it even worse by demanding he hold it in just so we can hightail it away from my older brother’s overbearing best friend.
I wait for him in the lobby, taking a minute to stand in front of a small, thin mirror that adorns one of the columns. I’m wearing a sweater over a polo shirt with the collar peeking through the crew neck of the sweater, and it got kind of disarranged while sitting.
Frustration crawls down my back when I see Rhys appear in the lobby, his date following a couple paces behind him.
She looks like she’s totally over it, and I don’t blame her. He hasn’t paid any attention to her at all, and even now, he’s swiveling his neck, obviously looking for me.
His date says something to him, and then she heads to the bathroom, too. As she walks away, his eyes finally find mine in the reflection.
Anger and frustration rattle through me. Before Rhys can even take a step forward to me, I turn on my heels and march toward him, the set of my jaw hard.
“What the hell was all that about?” I demand, straightening my back to confront him.
“What was what about?” he asks, but there’s no conviction in his voice, and the self-consciousness that clouds his eyes gives him away.
I set my brow straight and firm, not letting him wiggle out of this. “Why did you feel the need to ruin my date?”
Guilt casts a shadow over his face. “What do you mean? It was just a coincide?—”
I stop him. “Yeah, sure. A coincidence that you showed up here. A coincidence that you ignored your own date all night. A coincidence that you sat right next to us. A coincidence that you kept butting into our conversation.”
With each point I hammer, Rhys’s expression pulls with a wince.
“James and I are going somewhere to eat after this,” I say, although I wouldn’t blame him and won’t be surprised if he just wants to go home, “and we’d really appreciate not having your company.”
Before Rhys has the chance to say anything else, I turn around and march out the door. I send James a text that I’m waiting outside so he’ll know where to find me.
I don’t want to even share a movie theatre lobby with Rhys Callahan right now.