Chapter Thirty-Five #2
She nips my shoulder through a laugh. “To fuck me.”
“Right here?”
“Yes.” Her voice comes out hoarse. “Need.”
Her eyes drift closed as I edge her to an orgasm. Just as she grinds against my hand with even more enthusiasm, I pull back. I interrupt her groan of sexual frustration with a kiss.
“Condoms in the nightstand?” I plan to bolt into the bedroom and back at lightning speed. Daisy hooks me with her leg before I can move.
“I’m on the pill.” Her eyes flit to my mouth and then up again. “I’m clean, and if…well, if we’re doing this, then I’m in.”
Doing this doesn’t mean sex—she means us. I’ve never agreed to something faster in my life.
She pulls my lips to hers again, my heart remembers how to beat, and we become a frenetic rush of heat and limbs as I position myself at her entrance.
I slip into her like I’ve never belonged anywhere else, and we curse in unison.
She’s so comfortable, so right. I snake one arm behind her and cup her head so she won’t hit the cupboard, and I begin, with painstaking pleasure, sliding in and out.
I work my hand between us, feeling for her clit and rubbing against the slickness in a rhythm that causes her to let out a string of more profanities.
“That,” she says, though it sounds more like a growl. “That right there is perfect.”
“I plan to do this in every place in your house.”
“Good.” The side of her mouth tips up. “Make up for lost time.” Against one of my thrusts, she clenches.
I swear, this woman was made for me.
She locks eyes with me, and though I’m already on the brink of falling apart, the sight of her close sends a hot need through me. “You say it to me,” she whispers. “Tell me I’m yours.”
Running my fingers through her hair again, I hold her firm while I hammer in and out of her. “You’re my girl.”
“Yes,” she says as she comes, her face breaking into pure euphoria.
Her panting my name as she climaxes pushes me over a wave of release. She bites my shoulder, and I thrust into her three more blissful times, finding a home inside her.
We take a minute to come back to our bodies and minds.
She’s just Daisy, my Daisy, and this is how it should always be.
I’m left slick with sweat and breathing into her neck.
She smells like the desert after rain, like afternoons spent laughing, like everything I never knew I was missing.
And for the first time in a long time, maybe in forever, I’m where I’m supposed to be and with the person I’m supposed to be with.
Thirty minutes after the first visitors walk in, I find a moment to breathe. Opening night receptions have a chaotic energy that I live for. The excitement of the evening fizzes like the sparkling drinks from the bar.
The barn, which I’ve gotten used to seeing in its work-in-progress state, has people crammed inside and a line of patient arrivals snaking out the door. If cars continue to arrive, we might have to turn attendees away.
Daisy does a last-minute makeup check in the mirror by the bathrooms, and the tension in my shoulders releases.
We needed eight years—longer, really—but we’re here, we’re together, and we’re each other’s.
I think she’s why I’ve amassed a long string of we’re better off friends girlfriends. No one can compare.
Two familiar faces emerge from the crowd, and I have to do a double take.
“You’re kidding me,” I say, racing over to embrace my good friend, Aidan. We haven’t seen each other in almost a year. Although we keep up with regular texts these days, I can’t believe he’s here. “A short flight, huh?”
“Couldn’t miss this.” He slaps me on the back. “Hey, you remember June?”
“Of course.” I hug her, recalling when the two of them stayed at my apartment in Dublin. The first time I saw him with her—before they were even dating and she was just a tourist replacing a lost passport—he was totally gone for her.
“You didn’t fly out just for this?” I ask, piecing together how Aidan and June—who, last I knew, were somewhere in Southeast Asia—made it to this tiny town in the California desert.
“Couldn’t miss it,” June says, nudging my arm.
“We were already in Vegas for work,” Aidan says, his face serious, “but if we weren’t, we would have flown from anywhere for this.”
My mouth turns up. “Finally followed your bliss and joined Thunder from Down Under?”
“They want Aussies, not Irishmen.”
“Ah, then Cirque du Soleil?”
“He’s not nearly flexible enough for that,” June says, her eyes twinkling with mischief.
“A man can dream.” Aidan pulls June toward him, his arm resting easily on her shoulder. “We have a project with the tourism board.”
“Aidan’s the one who booked the job,” June says. “They saw his Instagram and reached out, and he’s documenting everything.”
“It was both of us,” he says, the tips of his ears turning pink. “June’s doing the copy. They want to highlight the surrounding nature and conservation areas, so we’re focusing on that.”
“You should meet Daisy.” I look back at the mirrors, but she’s gone. “Daze is all about sustainability and the natural beauty of a place.”
“The Daisy?” Aidan asks.
I ignore his inquisitive, raised eyebrow. Years ago, when we were roommates during his postgrad studies, I made the mistake of drinking too many beers and divulged too much about this one girl I could never get out of my head. He let it go, but he obviously never forgot.
“Hey Mr. Dub.” One of my students walks up. He’s combed his hair back and put some gel in it, and behind him is a man with the same round face and bushy brows, checking something on his cell.
“Hi, Xander.” I look between him and my friends, tugged in opposite directions.
“We’ll leave you to it,” Aidan says as he links his hand in June’s.
“Catch me before you go.” I turn to Xander, and he looks more dressed up than normal. “Congrats on the show.” I tip my chin toward the person behind him. The guy’s typing away on his phone, head down, and invested in his screen. “Who’d you bring?”
“Dad, this is—”
“Busy,” the man says, holding up one finger. “Hold on.”
Xander stares at his feet. At school, he’s always joking and laughing with friends, asking me a billion questions.
Tonight, though, he’s folding in on himself and taking up as little space as possible.
These students come into class and act so adult sometimes, but they’re still kids—kids who want validation on one of the biggest nights they’ve ever had.
It’s a movie I’ve seen before.
“Now, what’d you want?” His dad looks to his son, then to me, eyeing me top to bottom. “You the teacher?”
“I am. Xander is an extremely talented artist.”
“He’s something, alright. I’ll let his mom know. She insists on keeping him in these classes, since he likes the doodles and stuff.” Xander’s dad gives the kid a noogie, ruffling his hair. “I’ve got a call I have to take, kiddo. Meet you in the car. We need to be on the road in ten.”
He strides away, ignorant of the damage he’s doing.
“You good?”
Xander shrugs. “My dad’s kind of an asshole.”
He is, but I don’t think I can admit that to a student. “I’m glad you’re here. And I meant what I said—you’re very talented. Don’t let what he says, or anyone else says, matter.”
“So what you say doesn’t matter?”
“You’re a smart-ass, you know that?” I smirk at him, something like fondness crawling up my chest. “Not everyone will understand, and that’s okay. The right people will.”
Xander shrugs and stares down at his shoes again.
“You know, I’m sure someone could drive you home. If your dad’s cool with you carpooling with a classmate, you could volunteer as a greeter.”
“Spots were filled when I looked.”
I peer around the room. “I just opened up another one.”
“Really?” His face brightens with his smile.
“Sure. Check with your dad first, though, okay?”
“Yes, Mr. Dub,” he says, racing off and almost bowling over three people. “Thank you, Mr. Dub!”
“That’s not my name,” I mutter, though a smile pulls at the corner of my mouth.
“Hey, you.” Daisy curls one hand around my biceps, nestling into my side. The stress of the evening vanishes, and I lean as much into her as I can without looking obscene.
“You meet June and Aidan?” I ask. “They’ve got this cool project I think you’d like.”
“I did. They were more interested in talking about you and how great you are and how any woman would be lucky to have you. Ultimate wingmen.”
“I paid them to say that.”
She snorts a laugh, and I want to grab her face in my hands and kiss her, but I shouldn’t because I won’t be able to stop. When I look at Daisy, her eyes are on my mouth momentarily before flitting up to meet my gaze.
“So,” she says, tilting her chin in the direction of the door. “What was that about?”
“You remember Xander? His dad’s with him, but he’s kind of like my folks. Not so interested in art.”
“I wouldn’t say that.”
Daisy bites back a huge smile and nods toward the entrance on the far side of the room.
Ava steps in and brightens like a light bulb when she sees us.
My mom stops behind her, her eyes widening as she scans the barn, and my dad follows.
Ava plows into me with a hug before I can process that they’re here.
“This is so cool. Daze, isn’t this so cool?”
She laughs, a sound that gets better and richer and more beautiful every time I hear it.
“It’s the coolest,” she says.
“Everyone at school was talking about tonight. I’m kinda popular now since I know you both. Also.” Her voice drops, and she leans toward me with a conspiratorial look on her face. She juts her chin at one of the attendees. “That’s Z.”
“Oh.” My brows shoot up when I see the girl in question. She has a wild mane and a big smile, and she’s looking right at my sister.
“Stop staring,” Ava urges me, keeping her lips as still as possible so it sounds more like “Stah stahing.”
“Why are you talking like a ventriloquist?”
“In hase she can hread liss.”
Daisy loops her arm through Ava’s. “C’mon.
I wanna meet this Z person.” They walk off, glued to each other’s side, as my mom approaches.
Ava had every right to tell them, but I didn’t expect either of my parents to show up.
My entire body tenses, preparing for a fight.
I’ve never worked so hard or been so proud of a pop-up before.
If they’ve got anything nasty to say, even anything mediocre, I don’t want to hear it.
“You’re here,” I say, readying myself for the disheartened looks and disinterested conversation.
“I managed the time off,” my mom says stiffly. “So you…you organized all this?”
I clear my throat, taken aback that she wants to know anything about what I do. I learned pretty quickly that not inviting my mom and dad to my shows meant avoiding disappointment altogether.
“Me and Daisy,” I say. “We were in charge of everything.”
Everything. Even with the pop-ups I did at Impressions, I was never as hands-on as I was with Desert Daze. A few months back, I didn’t know I could pull this off.
“Well, it’s impressive,” my mom hums. “Very.”
I wait for the but… When I realize that’s not coming, I say a quiet, “Thanks.”
My dad scans the room.
“No Van Gogh,” I say, half joking. “Sorry.”
“No, I was—” He cranes his head toward the entryway. “Is there a docent?”
“A docent?”
“Yes, someone who’s like a tour guide but for—”
“I know what a docent is.” I exhale. Of all the things they’d judge me on tonight, their respect for my career hinges on our having a docent.
“There isn’t, sorry. Maybe…” A student could give them a brief tour, but they’re also teenagers high on nerves and hormones.
I don’t trust that combination. “I’ll show you around. ”
Rather than divide the floor up into student work and professional work, everything blends together.
The variety creates a sense of adventure.
Every new piece and every turn brings an unexpected experience.
My dad remains quiet, but my mom nods along and asks questions that prove she has a genuine interest in tonight. I think this is her making an effort.
Ava returns, and I’m about to scour the room for Daze when my sister lets out a dramatic gasp. She points to a drawing on the wall.
“Who did this? Has she seen it?”
“That’s mine,” I say, scratching the back of my head. “No, not yet.”
“Oooooh.” Ava waggles her brows, and I shoot her a glare.
“You drew this?” my mom asks, her brows raised.
I nod at my portrait of Daisy, the one from the first day of class.
During the past couple of months, whenever I had some spare time and Daisy’s face was fresh in my mind—which was always—I returned to it.
Perfected the shadows. Added in the freckles I’ve now memorized.
Deepened her gaze. Being back in the desert has gotten me back in touch with my artistic roots, and that funneled into my perspective for Desert Daze. Or maybe that was just Daisy.
“That’s quite impressive,” my mom says, repeating her favorite word of the night.
“How has she not seen this?” Ava asks.
“I added it last minute, and today’s been crazy. I hoped…” I look around, but I don’t spot her. “Where is she?”
Daisy handled so many logistical items today that I didn’t get the chance to give her a tour through the space before we had a line of eager guests outside. I’d envisioned showing her this drawing myself—I’d like to be there when she sees it.
“She’s over there talking to some people,” Ava says and points, although I don’t see Daze. “Do you want a picture of you kissing her in front of it?”
“Security?” I hold my finger to an invisible earpiece. “Yeah, you need to remove a young woman, sixteen, green jumpsuit and bows in her hair.”
“Okay, you two. C’mon.” My mom wraps her arm around Ava. “Let’s continue our tour. We’ll find Daisy after.”
I intend to wrap up this tour as quickly as possible, because I can hardly wait to have Daisy by my side again.