Chapter 11 For an entire week, I'd done nothing but go straight to my room after entering the house each day. I'd also been making sure Dorian's car wasn't in the garage and would bypass the kitchen altogether to avoid running into him. I'd pop in there to say hello to Benjamin or Patsy briefly, but that was only if I was absolutely sure Dorian wasn't home. I hated being outside of my bedroom too long on the off-chance he came home unexpectedly. Since it was unlike me to be so withdrawn, I'd told the staff I was busy working on a new art project, which technically wasn't a lie. That left me free to stay in my room all night until it was time to leave for class the next morning. My friend Janelle and I were eating lunch outside on campus this afternoon when I'd finally filled her in on my judgment faux pas with Dorian last week. "Maybe he has a good reason for not wanting to go there with you," she suggested. "That doesn't take away the humiliation and my fervent wish that I could take it all back." She ate a spoonful of yogurt. "How the hell are you managing to avoid him?" "It's not hard. He's almost never home. The only chance of running into him is if I use the theater or the kitchen. So I've been careful to avoid both." I picked at my salad. "How do you avoid the kitchen, though?" "I just eat out or starve. Takeout coffee is my friend. I do miss my tea at night." "Damn. You can't live like that forever, Primrose." "Watch me." I exhaled. "I'd move out if I could afford it. Anyway, if he wanted to talk to me, he knows where my room is. He could knock on my door. But he hasn't. All the more reason I don't regret avoiding him." Still so angry at myself, I shook my head. "The one time! The one time in my twenty-three years that I decide to take my shot, and look where it got me." She shrugged. "I'm still proud of you for taking a chance. It takes balls to do what you did. And why should women always stand by and wait for men to make the first move?" "Because they could get shot down and have to hide from the world after." "He was the one who encouraged the body shot, though, right? I would've totally bet he was down for more after that." "Well, clearly he wasn't. He was just playing the game." "At least you know where things stand now instead of wasting weeks pining over him, thinking something's going to happen." I thought back to Patsy's confession and advice. She was right. Men like Dorian and his father don't go for ordinary women. What other reason could he have for turning me down? He'd told me he thought I was attractive, and yet when given the opportunity-nothing. I looked away, thinking back to better times, before my embarrassing rejection. "The anticipation had been kind of fun. I miss the excitement of wondering whether he and I would run into each other. But you're right. The letdown would've been worse if more time had passed. Apparently, I'd been living in a delusional state." She perked up. "How about we go out this Friday? Help you forget about what's-his-name billionaire?" "I don't know." I sulked. "It's a good excuse to get out of the house," she said, scraping up the last of her yogurt. "Even less of a chance of running into him." "Now that you put it that way, yeah. Sure, why not?" *** That evening, I decided to make myself productive at home. Her clothing was on one side and his on the other. Even though it was supposed to be a closet, the space was pretty much an entire room-at least the size of my bedroom, if not a bit bigger. A chill ran through me as I glided my hand across Christina's clothes. Some of the items still smelled like her perfume. Everything was organized by category. There were a dozen gowns, many with sequins, all in a row. She loved blazers and silk scarves. And the shoe collection? Nothing to scoff at. Mostly designer heels, each pair with a dedicated shelf featuring its own recessed lighting. As beautiful as the closet was, there was nothing happy about this experience. I hadn't properly prepared myself for how emotional it would be to look through her personal items. It was sometimes possible to forget what had happened, but being in here, immersing myself in all of her things, served as a harsh reminder that she was no longer here to enjoy them. Life was unfair. What good was having wealth if it could all end in an instant? You can't take any of it with you. And I suppose none of it matters if you're not happy in life. Christina may or may not have been happy in her final days. She and I weren't close enough to delve that deep. If what Patsy said was true-that Remington wasn't faithful to my aunt-Christina might've been hiding some pain. Either that, or she was being lied to. I'd never know. The more I sifted through her clothing, the more I felt wrong about keeping anything that wasn't rightfully mine. I didn't want to inherit something from my aunt solely because she'd died. I decided the best course of action would be to give all the clothes and shoes to charity, rather than picking out certain things. The latter felt like greedy entitlement. It also felt easier to give it all away and not have to think about each item and the memories that would never be made. I froze at the sound of footsteps. Then came his voice from behind me. "Well, of all the places I imagined I'd find you tonight, this wasn't on my list." Shit. I turned slowly. "How did you know I was in here?" "I noticed the bedroom door open. Thought that was a little weird. So figured I'd check things out." "You aren't supposed to be home at this time." "Spoken like someone who's specifically trying to make sure she avoids me." "I'm not gonna deny that." "You shouldn't. You're a master at it lately." "Apparently not anymore." "Actually, I came home early hoping I'd catch you. I knew you wouldn't be expecting me, and I figured your guard would be down." "Why do you want to see me?" "I think you know why." "It's not necessary to talk about it." "I think it is. You ran off before you let me explain why I said no to you." Cut right to the chase, why don't you? Cringing, I took a seat on the floor and crossed my legs. "I don't need to be reminded of that night. But you reminded me there's a very good reason I'd never made the first move before." "I loved that you made the first move." "I could tell," I said sarcastically. He joined me on the ground and situated himself on the side of the closet that housed his father's clothes. A waft of his amazing scent registered, and I felt my body tingle. Damn it. "Technically, it wasn't the first move, though," he said. "That was all mine when I licked that body shot off of you." My nipples stiffened. "I was having a little too much fun with that game," he added. "And the last thing I wanted to do was continue to take advantage of the situation. We'd both been drinking that night." "Nice try. But we weren't drunk. Just buzzed. I knew what I was doing." "Me, too. But any amount of alcohol messes with your inhibitions." He had a point, but unfortunately, I hadn't been anywhere near under the influence enough to forget my humiliation. "There's so much more to why I didn't take you up on your offer, Primrose." He exhaled. "I don't know if I've properly articulated just how hard it was for me to come back to California. It took me a month to leave Boston and face everything. I'd imagined that coming back to this empty place and getting thrown headfirst into my father's unfinished business was going to be the most horrible experience of my life. But then there was you, an unexpected light in this miserable darkness. Someone who not only had also just been through losing someone, but who seemed to make me smile at every turn." I listened quietly, unable to come up with anything to say. "No one has captivated me like you have. Every time I talk to you, it's the highlight of my day. I look forward to the moments we run into each other." Desperate to get the formal rejection over with, I interrupted. "Fine. So you want to be friends. You like me, but you're not attracted to me in a physical way. No need to say more. I said it before you had to. I get it. Really. You don't need to explain any-" "That could not be further from the truth. I think you're stunning." His eyes seared into mine. "But you said yourself that you're a serial monogamist. And I'm not relationship material-at least at this point in my life. Given that we live together, becoming anything more than friends would make our lives very complicated. I know you're not the type to just fuck and forget about it. Nor do you deserve that. I want you to have everything you truly desire. I'm just not the right person to give it to you." What he said made a lot of sense. After a moment, I nodded. "I'm sorry I put you in a position to have to reject me." "It wasn't rejection. It was restraint." He looked into my eyes. "What about my licking your body made you think I wasn't interested? I did want to go to your room. More than anything I'd wanted in a long time. For once in my life, though, I'm trying to do the responsible thing when it comes to a woman I've grown to care about." He leaned toward me. "Make no mistake, I do care about you, Primrose, even though we haven't known each other that long." I sighed. Maybe this whole thing was for the best. I didn't want to lose him, either. There was no one else on Earth who understood the loss we'd both endured. I needed to grow up about this and be happy one of us was being mature. "I can respect that. And I'll try not to take it personally." "Can you? Because you constantly checking to make sure I'm not home sucks. I feel like if I hadn't come home early tonight, I might not have seen you for another week." "If you're barely home, how could you be so sure I was avoiding you?" "There are cameras all over the house. Do you know how many times they've alerted me that someone was in the garage? And then I'd check it to find you peeking at the bay where I park." "Shit." I closed my eyes briefly and had to laugh at myself. "I'm sorry if I've made things uncomfortable." "It doesn't have to be that way unless we make it so." "I don't want to avoid you anymore," I muttered. "Good, because I miss running into you." "And I miss my tea in the kitchen." "Ouch." He laughed. "You've been avoiding the kitchen because of me?" "Somewhat. I'm excited to make my triumphant return." I sighed. "I'm glad you found me in here tonight. The hiding did need to end." "Were you looking for another hiding place or going through your aunt's things?" "Finally garnered the courage to look through her stuff. "And then I think you should use this space as an art room. Move into the main bedroom. That way you can have all your stuff in one area of the house." My eyes widened. "What?" Jesus. Was this the consolation prize for being turned down? "The shelves in here can easily house your supplies, and it'll be a better use for the space." Guilt washed over me as I looked at the shelves that currently held my aunt's large shoe collection, unable to imagine canisters of paint and brushes replacing them. But it was hard to turn down the offer. The lighting in here was superb, and I could really use a space of my own to work. "Are you serious?" He nodded. "This is the best bedroom in the house. It shouldn't go to waste. Unless you're not comfortable sleeping where they did. I'd understand that, too. I'll have Benjamin order you all new linens." "That's generous of you, but it's not necessary. The linens are beautiful." "Nothing else will become of this space if you don't want it." I didn't have to think too hard. "Okay, then I'm gonna take you up on that. Thank you." "You're welcome." Dorian took one of Remington's shirts off the rack and stared down at it for a moment. My emotions got the best of me as I blurted, "I hope they're in a better place." He looked up at me. "Me, too." "I guess we're the ones left to feel the pain, huh?" "I haven't let myself feel much of anything." Dorian smiled sadly as he looked down at the shirt again. "I gave him this for Christmas years back. I'm surprised he still had it. I remember being all proud that I'd picked it out because I knew it was his taste. When Dad opened the box, I remember him telling me what he really wanted for Christmas was for me to get a four-point-oh." Dorian shook his head. "I had a three-point-fucking-nine." "He was really a perfectionist, huh?" "A brilliant man and a perfectionist when it came to himself or anything he considered an extension of himself, yeah." He shook his head. "It was like he looked at me and saw all of his own imperfections amplified." "Well, I think a three-point-nine is pretty freaking great." "I thought so, too, until he rained on my parade. The next semester I had a four-point-oh though. Pleasing him was always my biggest motivator. Maybe because he was so hard to impress. Getting his approval always felt like a huge victory." He hung the shirt back on the rack and sat back with me on the ground. The nearness of his body was immediately all I could think about. I didn't know how to feel anymore. On one hand, he'd closed the door on anything happening between us. On the other, he'd admitted he wanted to sleep with me. I really needed to detach from that glimmer of hope. "Well, wherever your father is now, I'm certain he sees that the need for perfection was just the ego playing tricks." "You think he's looking down with a different attitude?" "I don't know for certain, but I can't imagine anything that happens here on Earth carries any weight when you get to the next phase of existence-certainly not perfect grades or money. I feel like superficial things are just tricks to see if we can overcome temptation and realize that the only important things are the people we care about." "I wish I could believe that. I still feel so imprisoned by the need to ensure that he'd be happy with me. As if he has nothing better to do than continue judging me from the afterlife." I nodded. "Ingrained beliefs are pervasive. Wanting to please your father is one thing. Making yourself sick in the process or feeling like even your best isn't good enough is a losing game, though." Dorian shook his head. "How the fuck are you so wise at twenty-three?" I shrugged. "I had to grow up fast when my mom died. When you're alone, you have no choice but to find strength from within. You have to be your own biggest supporter, learn to talk to yourself a lot. I had to let go of the false beliefs holding me back because I no longer had the energy for them." "I wanna be you when I grow up." I smiled, my gaze wandering over to a sparkly, emerald green gown. The lighting made the sequins shimmer. I stood and walked over to it. "This is beautiful, huh?" "You should try it on." I looked back at him. "Wouldn't that be weird?" "Not at all. Someone will end up wearing it. Why not you?" He stood and turned so his back was facing me. "Try it on and tell me when." The way he'd indirectly encouraged me to disrobe made my body come alive. Foolish. And yet I listened, my nipples hard from merely his voice, the memory of his tongue on my skin all too fresh. After I pulled my crop top over my head, I kicked my pants off. Slipping into the silk-lined, beaded gown felt surreal. It was even heavier than it looked, practically weighing me down. I began to zip the back but couldn't get it all the way up. "It's safe," I said. Dorian turned around and smiled. "You look absolutely magnificent in that dress, Primrose." I didn't need to zip it all the way up, but I was a glutton for punishment who wanted to feel his hands on me, even for a moment, and even if that would be torture. I cocked my head. "Do you mind helping me with the zipper?" His Adam's apple bobbed. "Of course." Dorian took a few steps toward me and I turned around, giving him my back. The heat of his body made my skin prickle. As his hand slid up my spine to close the zipper, I shut my eyes, imagining that he was touching me for other reasons, imagining his tongue on my body again, this time drawing a line up my back. "Sorry if I pulled your hair," he said as the zipper snagged for a moment near the top. "I don't mind my hair pulled," I blurted, wondering instantly whether I'd meant to be so suggestive. Dorian cleared his throat as he finished zipping me up. I turned to face him, all too pleased by the sight of his eyes traveling the length of my body. He might not have been touching me anymore, but his eyes devoured me. If they were any indication, he was second-guessing his decision to turn me down. I moved over to look at myself in the floor-length mirror. "I'm a little curvier than she was. Shorter, too." Dorian stood behind me. "Nothing wrong with that." "Nothing the right bra and a good hem can't fix, I suppose." I brazenly pushed my breasts together, enjoying the way his Adam's apple bobbed again. He cleared his throat. "I think you should keep this gown." After a moment, I nodded. "Wearing it could be something to look forward to in the future." "Why in the future?" "I don't have anywhere to wear this now." I turned to him. "But maybe if my art sells big someday, and I get invited to some fancy gala, I can wear it." "When your art sells big. Not if." "Don't even think about buying my pieces out of pity, Vanderbilt." He laughed. "What made you think I was thinking that?" "I don't know. Maybe because you also offered to pay my tuition." He shook his head. "I wasn't thinking I could buy your art." "Oh..." Well, now I felt dumb. "I was thinking I could probably buy you a gallery of your own." My mouth fell open. "Please don't do that. And don't ever buy my art, either. I'd never know if it was any good if someone I knew bought it." "Trust me. You're good. I get it, though. I won't buy it if that upsets you." I decided to go out on a limb. "Well, now that you've promised you won't buy my art, I can invite you to the Institute's art show. Don't feel obligated. But I figured I'd mention it, since I don't have any family here or anyone else to ask." I chewed my bottom lip. "When is it?" "Thursday night." He pulled up the calendar on his phone. "I'll be there. Thank you for telling me." "I don't want you going out of pity, though. Go only if you want to." He looked into my eyes. "I promise you. I want to go." "Okay." "What are you showing?" he asked. "The monkeys. And also a flower series you haven't seen." He smiled. "I'll be looking forward to it." In a romance-themed observation show, several participants undergo a series of interactions and conflicts filled with love, misunderstandings, and power struggles. In the end, one couple rises to over...