I Stand Before You (Judge Me Not #2)(52)

Seeing the way Chase captured me the Sunday we met gave me a pretty darn good idea of what he’s thinking, and one question was perhaps answered. I think my artist boy sees me as something I could only ever hope to be—beautiful. Though when he realized I saw the truth in what he’d drawn it seemed he felt put on the spot.

He backtracked a bit, used the word “pretty,” not “beautiful, but it was too late. I’ve learned enough of that man over the past few weeks that I saw right through his no-big-deal fa?ade. The sketch created by his hand told me everything I’ve been dying to know—Chase Gartner is as attracted to me as I am to him.

And thinking of this newfound knowledge as I stand beneath the thin strand of light created by the summer sun, my heart soars high, way up into the outside blue, up into the high summer clouds.

I gather my things and leave my apartment. I feel better than fine, my heart up high even as I walk across the parking lot. I am ten feet tall and feeling grand. Unfortunately, these high spirits land me in hot water when I let my guard down. I feel it before I see it, but there’s no mistaking I’ve been noticed.

There are three junkies hanging out over by an alley that skirts around the side of the building. My car is in a space nearby, leaving me no choice but to pass right by the junkies. As I near the three miscreants, I mistakenly make eye contact with one, a short, stubby guy with unwashed hair. He’s leaned up against the building, his beefy arms crossed over his chest. He’s built like a fireplug, not as skinny as his blank-stare, soul-lost pals. Naming him Fireplug in my head, I determine he must be fairly new to this kind of life. Even so, as I pass, his dark, empty eyes rake me over, like it’s his right. My stomach turns. I suspect this junkie wants more of me than what his eyes can give him.

Isn’t it enough that he’s already taking something? I think with a shudder.

I frown and his expression challenges, his eyes dare. Go ahead and say something, they tell me. See what happens.

Of course, I remain silent.

I’m all too aware of how helpless I am in this situation. Suddenly, the flimsy sundress I slipped over my head this morning feels like nothing. The thin material, the short hemline, the scooped neckline, these stylish details make me feel nothing now but vulnerable and exposed.

The blue cotton fabric matches today’s sky perfectly, but I, unfortunately, don’t blend in. Fireplug with the greasy hair stares and stares, his lips curling up into a feral grin, one that reveals a missing tooth.

I avert my eyes and just run the rest of the way to my car, wedge heels on my feet be damned. The danger of living here has just been ratcheted up a notch. I’ve been noticed, and by someone who probably won’t forget, something I’ve successfully avoided for a whole year. Damn.

What I should do is quit being stubborn and ask Chase about his apartment. I know for a fact it’s still for rent. He told me just the other day that the only person who’s gone out to view the place, a male college student, decided not to take it. The kid supposedly liked the apartment, but Chase said the guy ultimately decided he’d rather remain in town.

I fumble with my keys and keep my thoughts busy, trying (in vain) to ignore the stares burning into my back. I’ve saved a little extra these past few weeks and could possibly swing the rental rate Chase is asking. I guess the only thing still holding me back now is a sense of pride. It’s stupid, I know, but I feel like maybe I should just find a place on my own.

Yeah, right. Who am I kidding?

My real concern is that if I live in such close proximity to Chase I’ll just fall for him even more. I already feel like I’m moving faster than him, so I certainly don’t need to make things harder for myself.

These thoughts distract me from the junkies, but my heart still races when I jump into my car and speed away. Even though Fireplug and his lecherous stares are left behind me in the lot, I remain uneasy.

I spend the rest of the drive to work coaxing my heart back to a regular rhythm. “I am calm, I am calm,” I whisper out loud, hands gripping the steering wheel harder than necessary. “Everything is fine now. There’s no more danger.”

My attempts to relax come to fruition, and by the time I reach the church it’s like the early morning scare never even occurred. Or so I think.

The morning flies by, and a little before noon Chase calls instead of texting. He asks me to meet him in front of the church in roughly ten more minutes. Apparently Father Maridale is having him take a look at the Holy Trinity fresco, the larger-than-life colorful painting behind the altar. The shades and tones are still bright, but there are a few areas that could use some touching up. There’s a certain way to do this, Chase tells me, to preserve the integrity of the original painting, and that’s what he and Father Maridale are discussing.

Ten minutes later, as Chase requested, I’m at the base of the church steps, waiting for him to emerge. And, unbeknownst to me, I am about to find out the effects from this morning are still with me.

I begin to make a call on my cell, a call to Missy I’ve yet to return. But just as I find her in my contacts, I feel someone come up behind me. Startled, I spin around and drop the cell. Chase catches it.

“Whoa, sweet girl, someone’s a little jumpy today.” His blues fill with question. “Hey, did something upset you this morning?”—if only you knew—“Is everything okay?”

No. “Yeah, everything’s fine.”