10. Tess
TESS
I spend the next few days making the apartment more like home, and trying to avoid Art.
It’s stupid, but I can’t face him. Every time I think he’s near, my heart leaps out of my ribcage and pounds in my throat.
Even though I’m avoiding him, a part of me still hopes he’ll come up to the apartment and call on me.
But he isn’t that type of man. I knew that from the start.
He’s a kiss ’em and leave ’em sort of guy, and he’s lived up to his image.
I reach the afternoon, and find myself at a loose end.
The apartment is clean now, and I’ve done everything I could to make the place feel like my own.
Checking the time, I realise I’d get away with calling a friend back home.
I’ve exchanged a few text messages and emails with my best friend, Laura, but, due to the time difference, I haven’t managed to speak to her yet.
Feeling nervous, but not quite understanding why, I swipe my cell phone’s screen and call my friend’s home number.
She answers on the second ring. “Hi?”
“Hey, it’s me.”
Laura takes a breath. “Oh, my God, Tess. How are you? Is everything okay? How’s England?”
I laugh. “Which question do you want me to answer first?”
“Any of them. No, the first one. How are you?”
“I’m okay. It’s strange being here, but I think I made the right decision. I don’t know… it’s early days yet.”
“What’s the building like you inherited? As fancy as you’d thought it was going to be?”
I laugh again, and it feels good. “No, the complete opposite! There’s a tattoo shop downstairs, and the apartment upstairs was a complete dump when I first got here. I had to get the guys from the tattoo shop to come up and help me clean.”
“They must have loved you for that.”
“Well, it was their mess. Two of the men didn’t mind, but the one who runs the business wasn’t too happy.”
“I bet he wasn’t,” she says, though I can hear the delight in my friend’s voice. “What’s he like?”
I try not to think about him fucking me from behind on the staircase right below where I’m standing, and pushing me against the wall and shoving his face between my thighs.
I realise Laura has spoken again. “Oh, sorry?”
“I asked what he was like.”
“What you’d expect—big, tattooed, a bit sullen.”
“Sounds like a laugh a minute.”
“Yeah, he’s a bit like that.”
On the other end of the line, Laura falls silent and then says, “Hey, we went to visit Brett the other day. It didn’t feel right, now you’re not around.”
An unexpected lump chokes my throat. “Thanks, Laura. Give him my love.”
“I will, Tess. It’s weird you not being here anymore. This town is too quiet.”
“I had to go though, I had no choice.”
“I know, sweetie. We miss you, that’s all. Everyone keeps asking how you’re getting on.”
“That’s one of the reasons I had to get away.”
A silence falls between us, and then Laura speaks, “Hey, look, I have to get to work.”
“Oh, yeah, I forgot it’s first thing in the morning for you.”
“Stay in touch though, okay. We love you, and miss you.”
“Miss you, too.”
I hang up, blinking back tears. I know I can’t go back to my old town—I left that part of my life behind me now—but that doesn’t mean I don’t miss it.
But living there had been an emotional struggle every single day, and it hasn’t gotten any easier.
I needed this move, even if it brought its own challenges.
The day outside is unusually bright. I need to get out of this apartment and go and see some of the city.
I’d hunkered down here, trying to acclimatise to all the changes in my life, but at some point I’m going to have to start actually living.
I have money coming in from my inheritance, but I can’t just rely on that.
I need to work, if only for my own sanity, though I have no idea what I’d be any good at.
Everything that happened back home meant I’d never focused on my future or a career, but I’m going to have to start somewhere.
I’m in one of the best cities in the world, but I’ve barely seen any of it.
Making up my mind, I gather my jacket and purse, and slip my feet into a comfortable pair of sneakers.
The warm spring weather makes me cast off my usual jeans in favour of a small summer dress, to which I add a soft grey cardigan to keep off the chill.
The tattoo shop downstairs is open and in the full swing of business.
Music blares and voices drift up to me. I’ll sneak out the back, so I won’t need to speak to anyone.
Not that I’m trying to avoid anyone in particular, I lie to myself.
I move slowly and carefully down the stairs, like a teenager sneaking out in the middle of the night.
The door dividing the studio and my staircase is closed.
Another door leading out to the small courtyard out the back stands ajar.
I hold my breath and slip out of the backdoor.
I look over my shoulder toward the tattoo studio door, ready to bolt if it opens.
“Hey, watch it!”
My head snaps back around at the male voice, and I realise I’m a matter of inches away from Art. I almost walked right into him, focusing on the studio door instead of where I was going. I hadn’t considered that he might be coming from the other direction.
“O-oh,” I stutter. “Sorry, I wasn’t watching where I was going.”
He frowns. “You’ve got a habit of doing that.”
“Sorry.” I look down to see a full black bag in his hand.
He follows my line of sight. “I was just taking the rubbish out,” he says, moving past me to dump the bag into a large black trashcan.
He turns back to me. “I haven’t seen you around for a few days.
Is everything all right? I’m sorry if things ended up awkward between us because of.
..” He gestures back toward the staircase and I wish the ground would open up and swallow me.
I wave a hand dismissively. “Oh, no, not at all. I’ve just been really busy with... stuff.”
He pushes his hands into his pockets, his head down, foot scuffing the ground.
Damn, why does he have to have such amazing forearms?
Is it crazy to be attracted to someone because of their arms?
He does have incredible arms. My gaze tracks up to his biceps and then over his chest. That part is pretty damned nice too.
“Tess?”
I realise he’s been speaking and I’ve been daydreaming about his arms. That’s another thing I really need to stop doing.
“Sorry, what?” My blush deepens.
“I just said that I didn’t want you to think I’d been avoiding the conversation we’d started about the rent.
I’ve put some points together that I want you to take a look at.
With your aunt being elderly, she hasn’t exactly looked after this place either.
There’s old wiring, mould out the back, some of the slates are missing off the roof.
I’d complained about things to the agent, but they didn’t do anything.
I get where you’re coming from when you’re talking about bringing the rent up so it aligns with similar properties in the area, but I think it needs to be a two way thing.
I’ve let a lot of stuff slide because I knew I was getting a good deal with the rent, but if that’s not going to be the case anymore, there needs to be a little extra from your side as well. ”
I stare at him, thinking this is the most I’ve heard him say since I met him, and he hasn’t even mentioned the sex on the stairs thing.
“Umm, yes, that sounds fair. You’ve obviously given it a lot more thought than me.”
“I’ve put some paperwork together, if you’ve got a minute. I can run you through it.”
He nods back toward the shop.
“Of course.”
“Oh, but you look like you’re heading out somewhere.”
I shrug. “Nowhere in particular. It just occurred to me that I’ve been in London for almost a week now, and I haven’t actually seen any of it.”
His blue eyes light up. “You want to see London?”
“I’d like to.”
“I’m free. I can show you around.”
“Seriously?” I can’t help the incredulity in my voice.
It clearly isn’t the reaction he’d been expecting and his expression darkens. “Forget I said anything”
I reach out and catch his arm. Where our skin meets, my fingertips against the strong muscles in his forearm, make my heart flutter. He has such an effect on me.
“Art, I didn’t mean it like that. I was just surprised. You’ve been avoiding me. We haven’t even spoken.”
“You’ve been avoiding me, you mean.”
I give a little shrug. “I was embarrassed. You acted as though you’d made a huge mistake.”
He shakes his head. “I didn’t feel that way at all.” His expression twists, and my heart sinks. “I mean, I guess I felt bad about the way it happened. We were fighting and then we were...”
“Fucking?”
His mouth tweaks in a smile. “Yeah, exactly. I wasn’t sure how we’d left things, and then I didn’t see you.”
“You could always have knocked on my door. You knew where I was.”
“Hey, you could have come down to me as well, but you didn’t.”
I put my hands on my hips. “Art, if a guy like you has sex with a girl like me, and then doesn’t attempt to contact her, she’s going to assume you’re not interested.”
His eyebrows lift. “A guy like me?”
“Yeah.” I gesture to the tattoos running across his muscled arms. “A guy like you.”
“A guy who looks like he’s going to be trouble, you mean?”
“Trouble, and kind of hot. It’s not a safe combination.”
“Only kind of hot?” He chuckles. “Okay, well, let me make it up to you. What part of London do you want to see?”
My stomach roils, but excitement flutters inside me. Is he offering to take me out? “I don’t know. I haven’t seen any of it.”
“Wait here one minute, I’ll just tell the guys where I’m going.”
“Don’t you have work to do?” I call after him, but he dismisses me with a wave of his hand and vanishes through the door, back into the shop.
I wait awkwardly, until he reappears holding two bike helmets, a grin on his face.
“You’re not making me go back on that thing, are you?”
“You loved it. Don’t lie.”
I hide a smile. “Okay, it was kind of fun. But don’t get me killed.”
He grins, an expression I’ve rarely seen on him, and something in my chest tightens.
“Never.”
As I did a few days earlier, I climb onto the bike behind him.
This time, I feel more comfortable slipping my arms around his waist. The tension that had been between us has vanished with a few simple words, and I wish one of us had made the effort sooner.
The last few days of angst might never have happened if only I’d swallowed my pride and confronted him.
I wasn’t the only one at fault—Art could have spoken to me, too.
He rides the motorbike, skilfully manoeuvring it between the traffic.
Where others are at a standstill, Art’s able to weave through gaps.
Have I ever felt so alive, sitting on the back of a bike, my arms wrapped around this sexy man?
A twinge of guilt threatens to spoil the moment, but I push it away.
I deserve this. I’m allowed to be happy, I have to remember that.
I note that we’re heading into central London, and wonder where we’re going. Finally, he stops the bike down a side street, and we climb off.
I look around, not recognising anything. “Where are we going?” I ask him.
He catches up my hand and leads me down the street, until we step out onto the main road and sparks of recognition fire inside me.
“This is Trafalgar Square!” I exclaim, recognising the tall statue and the fountains. Tourists are everywhere, some sitting, eating snacks in the spring sunshine, pigeons milling at their feet, while others take photographs. “Is this where you wanted to bring me?”
“Not exactly. I’m taking you to the National Gallery. There’s an exhibition I wanna show you.”
His enthusiasm gets me excited. An art gallery isn’t the first place I’d have chosen to visit, but I’m curious to know what Art finds so fascinating.
We approach the huge building, with its massive pillars, and trot up the steps. Everyone looks at Art, fleeting glances, before their eyes dart away.
I reach into my purse to pay, but he shakes his head. “This exhibition is free.”
“Even better.”
We walk into the building and enter the Sainsbury Wing, where the exhibition is taking place. The atmosphere in the gallery is hushed, and I sense the extra attention we’re garnering with all Art’s tattoos, when most others are either smartly dressed or tourists in flip-flops.
Framed artwork of all shapes and sizes, in numerous different mediums fill the walls. All of the art, no matter how old or new, all have one thing in common.
“This whole exhibition is in black and white,” Art says. “It’s called Monochrome . It’s the first major show on the subject.”
I glance up at his face. “Did you study art at school?”
“Only up to A-level. I was sick of school by then. I did well, but I knew what I wanted to do. I was obsessed. I went to every tattoo shop in London and begged until someone took me on as an apprentice. That was ten years ago now. I learned my craft then started up on my own.”
“I love how you knew what you wanted to do with your life, even from that age. I’m twenty-five, and I still have no idea.”
“I don’t think that’s too unusual. You seem like a smart woman. You’ll figure it out.”
I smile back at him. “Thanks.”
We walk farther into the gallery, moving from one piece to the next.
“Why black and white,” I ask, “when there is so much colour in the world?”
He shrugs. “I don’t see it just as black and white.
There are so many shades in between. It’s easy to create something beautiful when you can use every colour under the sun.
I’d like to say that I saw working in black and white as more of a challenge, but that would be lying.
I can’t explain it exactly. I don’t think I chose that medium, I kind of felt like it chose me. ”
“I never took you as such a hippy.”
He nudges me in the side, playfully. “Careful, or I’ll start getting in touch with my feminine side.”
“Art, I don’t think you’ve got a feminine bone in your body.”