Page 18 of Oh Boy!
Nathan
“Excuse me?” I ask the hipster couple in front of me to repeat themselves. I’ve never been so distracted on the job before. Besides my framed art, entertaining tonight’s guests—who might turn into potential clients—is part of the job. It’s a part that I usually enjoy and excel at, but right now, I’m distracted and floundering.
Once I find an excuse to check on “my precious,” I weave through the space, my focus everywhere but in front of me, and almost bump into Virgil. How I missed him is beyond me, considering his height.
“What do you think you’re doing, Nathan?”
“Doing a piss-poor job of stalking my kryptonite.” This earns me an earnest chuckle as we walk to a quieter corner. What is he up to?
“Kryptonite, huh?”
“Well, I’m not into shiny green objects, so the fact that my own version comes in the form of blonde with an hourglass figure and mesmerizing cerulean eyes suits me just fine…”
I wouldn’t admit it to him, but I couldn’t care less if she turns me into a weak, pathetic, and yearning anti-hero. Nah, strike that, I should care since it’s screwing with my ability to work efficiently, but whenever our eyes lock, I lose all sense of direction. Of course, we’ve established a friendship, since that’s all that she has to offer. Oddly, I don’t want to fight Rupert for his girl. I’m not jealous, just envious of what I’m missing. Before I’d learned that she was otherwise attached, I felt a similar pull at the dojo that didn’t register at the time. Then, I struggled to keep my hands to myself. Yeah, friendship was the next best thing.
“You’ve been eye-fucking each other for over two hours… and her boyfriend didn’t object. Something’s going on between those two that I suggest you clarify. Anyway, he left while you were talking to the Turners.” My eyes widen at the realization. “So, yeah, you’re being your worst promoter tonight, and your girl’s about to go…”Mygirl? That’s what Rupert calls her… Mmm…“Run, Forrest. You never needed anyone’s permission before, and that’s not changing today, right?” I grunt because the fucker has a point. “Frankly, it’s obvious that you’re head over heels for this woman. Who knows? Maybe you met your match?” He winks.
“Fuck off…” I clear my throat. “But… yeah…”
Virgil’s words of wisdom jump-start my course of action. I ditch him without further ado.
“Wait! Sally, wait up!” My stomach lurches as I stride across the Chelsea gallery to catch her. Damn, she’s already pushing the door’s crash bar! I couldn’t care less that my voice sounds as needy as I feel inside. I simply can’t let her get away.
Sally is so attuned to my need that she hears my plea over the clinking of glasses, random chatter, and forced giggles that fill the space. What follows unfolds in slow-motion, unless I’m slightly intoxicated and want this to last longer than it does. She stops in her tracks, whips around, and locks her ocean eyes on my dark ones with a smile tugging at her lips. My pulse races as I take in her long dark green dress and beige flats. She’s fucking stunning! Apart from the Whiskey Barrel set at the festival, I’ve never seen her wear a dress… and certainly not one that’s so tight. The way that it hugs her curves makes my dick twitch to attention.
The rest of the guests vanish. The rest of the voices fade away. The rest of the world ceases to exist.
“Please stay.” Here I am again, pleading. What’s happening to me? Since when does Nathan Price plead? As far as I can remember, even when I was bewitched by Fanny, I never did.
Enough with the comparisons, moron! You and Fanny are over; you mistook your feelings for something you dreamt of. This… Sally… is different.
Out of reflex, I clasp her wrist before she can flee, my fingers tightening around it. Her body goes stock-still and she looks away, as if searching for Rupert to rescue her, although he left half an hour ago. Rubbing the back of my neck, I sigh at myfaux pas.
When I feel the weight of her stare, my face heats and I loosen my grip. It’s my turn to cage her eyes with mine. “I’m sorry,” I blurt out, realizing that my touch may very well be responsible for her reaction, though I’m at arm’s length and have yet to enter her personal space. “Don’t you know that you have nothing to fear from me, Sally?”
“Don’t say things like that. That’s what creepers say, and I know from experience.” Her retort knocks the wind out of me, and my eyes widen in disbelief at what she says next. “This was a mistake.”
“What? Why?”
“I said that it was a mistake. I can’t do this, Nathan. I shouldn’t have listened to Rupert. I should never have come.” Sally’s whispered declaration crushes my hopeful heart into pieces. An ending can’t apply to what never started, can it?
Careful not to scare her away, I stay rooted in place and face her, bewilderment written all over my features. “I heard what you said about it being a mistake. I just want to understand why.” I pause and shake my head. “Let’s start over, shall we?” I timidly reach for her hand that’s gripping the door with such force that her knuckles are white. “Thank you for coming, Sally. I appreciate it and apologize for my manners. I’ve been so busy with the other guests that I let you wander around on your own after Rupert left.” The tip of my thumb brushes her fingers that slowly ease their hold on the exit. With this mere touch, a wave of warmth travels through my body, along with a sense ofdéjà vu. I push it to the back of my head. “I guess I wasn’t expecting you two to show up is all.”
“I… Why? After we discussed your recent work, I Googled you.” That makes me chuckle, considering that I did the same once I became privy to her identity, which took long enough! “I was eager to see your work, and Rupert did too. I… I…” she stutters and swallows forcefully. “I hesitated, although I wanted to see your work… and see you, of course.” Her flustered voice is tinged with embarrassment. “He basically kicked my ass and accompanied me.” A soft giggle escapes her full mouth. “It’s ridiculous, I know.” She shrugs.
Why am I only now grasping how much I missed her? I haven’t seen her since we went hiking in Colorado last month, and the back and forth texting clearly didn’t make up for it. What is this woman doing to me? I berate myself for contemplating the thought of wanting her more than I should.
She belongs to somebody else, dumbass.
There’s plenty of fish in the sea; why her? I’m not drawn to her because she makes the worst coffee ever. I’m drawn to her because she knew aboutkintsugi, the Japanese art of repairing broken pottery with powdered gold and the like, enhancing the cracks instead of hiding them… My heart thumps as I realize that looking at Sally Mitchell is like looking in a mirror.
Could she be my alter ego?
For real.
