Avoiding Intimacy (Avoiding #2.5)(6)

God, why did he have to be g*y?

“Don’t act like you know my entire collection.”

“Honey, I f**king picked out your collection. Remember who has the good taste in the relationship. If I leave you alone, you’ll probably strip down the black leather sofas again and add animal print and bamboo,” he cried dramatically.

“Then, don’t leave me again, f**ker,”

she said, walking away from the crystal display.

“Don’t be such a cunt then,” he said as a matter-of-fact.

She loved him! Any man who used the c-word as a compliment was someone she could appreciate.

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

“Do you want to get lunch? I know this incredible vegan cuisine a block from here. To die for. I took my boyfriend, Dallas—”

Chyna groaned, interrupting his statement.

“there last week. Also, shut up, hooker. And, he fell in love!”

“With you or the food?”

“Well, when I took him home and f**ked his brains out…me.”

“Well played.”

“Thank you,” he said with a knowing smirk. “So, lunch?”

“I can’t. I have to meet my boyfriend, Adam—”

Frederick groaned, mimicking her.

“Adam. Also, groan all you want.

Take me on a silver platter at your convenience,” she said, spreading her arms wide.

“You couldn’t handle it, sweetheart.”

He patted her arm sympathetically.

“Bring it,” she challenged.

Frederick just laughed and followed her out of the boutique. They walked arm and arm down Madison Avenue. Chyna wrapped her cashmere scarf tighter around her neck, bracing against the winter temperatures. They both paused before the new store being constructed on their favorite stretch of Madison.

There was an endless amount of buzz about the new store. An up-and-coming Italian designer had broken Madison before he turned thirty years old. She had hardly been able to believe it until his one-of-a-kinds started circulating in her group of friends. She had been shocked by their style, elegance, and creativity.

Today, they had unveiled the gorgeous, shiny gold sign that topped the Italian boutique—Marco’s.

She practically salivated at the store. It was more than perfect. It was her— everything she loved and more.

“Fuck. I can’t wait to get my hands on those clothes,” she said.

“You and everyone else in the city, hun.”

“Why haven’t I requested him to commission something for me yet?” she asked Frederick, reluctantly walking away from the display.

“Probably because he’s not taking orders,” he reminded her.

“Right. Damn. Bad timing for him to go pre-made on me,” she complained.

“Yes, how inconsiderate of him to expand his career. Doesn’t he know better?” Frederick asked with dripping sarcasm.

“I know, right?! Doesn’t he know who I am?”

“I doubt men with that much drive care, sweetie.”

“I’d make him care,” she said with a knowing smirk.

“You’d just get your ass in trouble.”

“Probably,” she agreed with a giggle.

“But, I like trouble.”

“Don’t we all?”

“Anyway, girlfriend duties to attend to.

Gotta go, lover.” She kissed both of his cheeks before darting across the street to her waiting town car.

Chyna hopped in the backseat and rode off of Madison Avenue. She was supposed to meet Adam at the gym, and then they were going to go get lunch. She was a little early, but that was alright. She liked to see him all sweaty.

Rounding the corner toward the New York Sports Club, her driver pulled up in front of the building.

“You don’t have to wait today, Carl.

Adam likes to drive for some unknown reason. Take the rest of the night off.”

“Thank you, Miss Chyna. Have a nice night.”

“You, too, Carl.”

Chyna exited the town car and rushed quickly into the empty gym. The attendant waved her through. She had been here enough that they all recognized her now.

“I think he’s on the basketball courts,”

the young perky blonde directed.

She couldn’t have been older than eighteen. Probably getting lost in the city, trying to pursue her dream. Chyna wondered what that was like. She had never loved anything enough to do that.

Pushing aside those thoughts, she opened the door to the courts and entered, slipping silently into the room. Adam was there with one other guy playing one-on- one ball. Both guys were covered in sweat, drenching through their cut-off shirts. Adam’s longish hair was a mop, sticking to his forehead and slinging around as he attempted to maneuver around his opponent. He was so cute and aggressive when he didn’t know she was watching.

Her eyes moved to his opponent just as he stole the ball from Adam. Her eyebrows rose when she got a closer look at him. Hello! Excuse me, who the hell was he? He was even in height with Adam but broader. Gah, those shoulders! His hair was very short brown, almost military cut, but it worked for him. And, tattoos—she was such a sucker for well- placed tattoos. She could see one etched into the inside of his left bicep, and when he raised his arms, another one was written across the side of his right ribs.