Page 59 of Deliverance

“Are you sure you wanna do this?” I ask him, climbing out of my seat. Of course my dress rides up my legs and I quickly jerk it down before Zander gets to see my panties. In the club, under the cover of darkness, I didn’t feel so naked. But now that the effects of the alcohol and pheromones have worn off a little, I’m back to being self-conscious about my body. Especially in the presence of a man who’s probably tasted women all over the world.

“Yes. I’d be honored, actually,” Zander says. A smirk tugs at the corner of his mouth as he rounds the car and falls into step behind me.

We reach the front door and I punch the code into the keypad while covering it with my palm. It’s a habit that’s part of thetrust no onelife philosophy I’ve been living by ever since I left Rhys Jacoby. Although inviting a man into my workspace late at night does seem like breaking the rules, my intuition tells me it’s safe.

The lobby is dark. So is the staircase, and Zander turns on the flashlight on his phone to help us navigate to the studio.

Once inside, I flick on the overheads and lock the door.

“Looks different.” Zander glances across the room and wrestles off his leather jacket.

“Just moved the furniture around,” I explain. It happens here often. Depending on what project I’m working and how much space is needed. “Are you in the mood for anything specific?” I walk over to the table and sift through the stacks of CDs I pulled from the back during my recent renovation attempt.

Zander deposits his jacket on the couch and moves in my direction. The warmth of his body engulfs every part of me as he stands near. “You’ve got quite the collection.” His shoulder gently grazes mine when he reaches for theDiamonds and Pearlscase, and sparking arrows shoot up and down my arm and spread to my chest.

“Thanks.” I try to ignore the touch, but it’s useless. We click like two magnets and it terrifies me. “Some of these are very old. I’ve been collecting them since middle school. This one”—I gesture at the CD he’s holding—“was the very first album I bought with my own money.” The packaging is worn out and the edges of the booklet’s pages are all chewed up, but the memories the music gave me are irreplaceable and I can’t bring myself to get rid of these relics of my old life, even if these days, it’s all about streaming and no one has CD players anymore.

“Nice.” Zander pops the case open. “Classic.”

“I love this video. I still can’t get over the fact he’s gone.”

“He was a fucking genius.” A pause. “They made cool shit in the nineties.”

“They did. The aesthetic is beautiful with its blue and orange hues. The color scheme of the entire decade. I was glued to MTV when I was growing up,” I confess.

“When they still played videos.” He plucks the disk out with a chuckle.

“Exactly. Before reality shows about rich people who spend all day arguing about interior design and overpriced clothes took over.”

Zander shifts his gaze from the CD in his hand to me. “You do realize I’m the rich people?” His brow arches.

“Yeah, but at least you’ve got a job.”

“You remember MTV? How old were you anyway?”

“Are you implying I’m too young?”

“No, just haven’t met a woman under thirty with such eclectic music taste.”

“I never told you how old I am.”

“I never asked. Age is just a number. Your words.”

“Not mine. It’s actually from a book by Cecelia Ahern. But I believe Joan Collins said it first.”

“I didn’t know that.”

“See.” I smile coyly. “You learn something new every day.”

“Indeed.” Zander hands me the disk and I slip it into the player and adjust the volume. A soft tune spills from the speakers.

“Is there a specific spot you want me at?” he asks, moving through the space while I open the window and turn on the fan.

“There’s a roll of white paper in the corner. Could you grab that and lay it out on the floor?”

“Sure.” Surprisingly, Zander follows my instructions without any defiance. “How much do you need?”

I grab a tray and begin preparing the materials. Paint, brushes, towels, scrapers. “Make it ten feet. Move the couch aside. Tape is on the cart.”

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