Best Friends Don't Kiss(46)
She grumbles quite a bit—which isn’t unexpected—but when we settle into a seat toward the end of the train car and I hand her back the sketchbook, she finally stops giving me the silent treatment.
“All right. What are we doing here?”
I shuffle through her iPod until I find a song I know she’ll like, put an earbud into her ear that faces away from me, and put the other earbud in my own. Our heads are close together, but it’s not uncomfortable, and this way, we’ll be able to hear each other when we talk.
“We’re here for a recreational Sunday that benefits us both.”
She sighs. “Say it again, but do it like you’re not as smart as you are.”
I laugh. “I’m going to people watch. And you’re going to draw.”
“Oh really?” she challenges, and I nod.
“How about her?” I suggest, nudging her attention toward a woman on the other side of the train wearing a neon jumpsuit. “Draw her but as a circus clown.”
“What?”
“Humor me, Ace. I want to see you put my imagination into art. Please?”
“Fine,” she finally agrees. “But it’s your fault if I start making you do this every Sunday.”
I smile. “That’s okay. That’s the kind of blame I’m more than willing to take.”
November 27th, Friendsgiving
Luke
“I don’t think we’re in Kansas anymore, Toto,” Ava teases as we head up twenty floors inside the sleek elevators of Thatch’s building. “Pretty sure this elevator costs more than our entire building.”
I smirk. “You act like our elevator is crap. We live in a building that costs four times what we can afford just because of my uncle.”
“And the elevator is still crap,” she insists with a wink. “We’re lucky if it’s working for three days straight.” She cracks up and slides a loose lock of blond hair behind her ear, and I can’t stop myself from taking in the view.
Clad in a pair of tight jeans, her favorite black stilettos, a ruffly top that shows a little more cleavage than I’m used to seeing, and a light sheen of makeup that only makes her big blue eyes damn near mesmerizing, Ava looks beautiful.
She always looks beautiful.
Tonight, we will spend Friendsgiving with Thatcher Kelly, his wife Cassie, and his closest friends. This definitely pushes the boundaries of a professional relationship, but knowing I’ve gotten into NASA takes a little pressure off. All these guys seem more like friends than wealthy passengers on my flights anyway.
The elevator dings at the Penthouse Level, and the doors slide open, directly into Thatch’s humble abode.
Though, with the marble entryway looking like something out of Architectural Digest, I wouldn’t exactly call it humble. Sophisticated and luxurious would certainly be better adjectives for this apartment.
“Luke, my man!” Thatch greets us with a boisterous voice and a smile as we step off the elevator. A brunette stands beside him, her eyes and mouth mischievous and excited at the same time.
“Cassie, honey, this is Luke and Ava,” he introduces us.
“Of course,” she responds, and her lips morph into a megawatt grin. “I’ve heard so much about you two.”
“Uh…good things, I hope?” Ava questions with a slightly nervous giggle.
“Very good things,” Cassie answers and reaches out to pull Ava into a friendly hug.
“Don’t worry,” Thatch says, his voice dropping to a whisper. “Cass and I are the only ones who know about your little secret.” He winks, and immediately, Ava looks up at me with confusion on her face.
“Our little secret?”
“Your fake relationship arrangement,” Thatch adds, still whispering.
“Oh. That,” Ava responds, and a giggle follows. “Well, I hope it’s not asking too much, but I’m expecting you to really put this guy to task.” She flashes a wicked smile at me. “Feel free to ask him all sorts of questions about our relationship.”
I laugh and shake my head. “You’re evil, Ace.”
“Me? Evil?” she questions like she is the definition of innocence. “I mean, you’re the one who said we didn’t need to get lost in any of the specifics. If I do recall, it was you who decided we didn’t need rules or anything. Which can only mean one thing.”
“And what’s that?” I ask, tilting my head to the side.
“That you’re crazy confident you can wing it,” she responds without hesitation. “So, by all means, wing it the fuck up, boyfriend.”
“Well, goddamn, I think I might like Ava better than you, son.” Thatch smirks like the devil.
“Oh, hell yes.” Cass bursts into laughter and reaches out to wrap her arm around Ava’s shoulders and pull her into the apartment. “Honey, I think you and I are going to get along just great. Now, if you don’t mind, I could use a little help in the kitchen. My best friend Georgie tends to turn into a spaz when we’re trying to finish up dinner.”
Ava just giggles, but as she and Cassie walk down a long hallway and toward the inside of the apartment, she glances over her shoulder to meet my amused gaze. Her eyes silently asking, is this okay?
I nod, and Thatch slaps his palm on my back. “This is the part where the ladies finish up dinner and the men sit around in the cigar room, playing poker and shooting the shit.”