Noah smiled, remembering how Nicole had chugged half the bottle before she could look him in the eyes and admit she wanted to fuck.
Paula laughed. “I know that stupid look. You had a girl over, didn’t you? Is shepretty? Do youlove her?”
Irritation prickled the back of his neck. He collected the glass and poured the remaining wine down the sink before placing it in the dishwasher. He thought of Nicole’s mouth, the oak-y sweetness on lips so small and soft and eager they belonged to a fairytale princess. All of her was like a fairytale princess. She looked like one of the elves from the not-sexual fantasies he’d had before his hormones hit overdrive. Fantasies where he, the best knight in the kingdom, saved Tolkien’s elf princesses and received invitations to go to their bedchambers and do things he didn’t understand.
When he’d first seen Nicole, it felt like someone opened a door to one of those fantasies and let the elf princess come to him. He’d stared at her, confused by how clear she was, this woman built from his daydreams about Liv Tyler and Terry Brooks novels. Then he’d noticed her gaze skimming his tatts, the distrust in her blue eyes, and he’d remembered this wasn’t a world where chubby little bikie brats got their wishes fulfilled. The elf princess was Sam’s twin and she didn’t like, trust, or want a bar of his ex-con ass.
Or so he’d thought.
Hehadslept with her, the elf princess. And no amount of nostalgia was going to make the memories of fucking Nicole to an orgasm any glossier than they already were. He headed for the hall, some stupid part of him hoping she was still there, naked in his sheets.
“Sleep well!” Paula called. “We’ll talk about this girl tomorrow.”
Noah didn’t say anything. He felt shitty about it, but he doubted he could talk to her about anything without letting his resentment spill out, much less Nicole. After all, if Paula hadn’t been out re-confirming her ex was a prick, he might have still been in bed with the girl of his literal dreams. His bedroom was cool, the smell of sex not gone from the air. He lay on his sheets and replayed what he and Nikki had done from start to finish.
What had she told him when he gave her a lift home from the bar? That she wasn’t sexy. What horseshit. In the beginning, she’d been stiff; playing sexy for an invisible camera. But once she relaxed it was hotter than a bonfire. She’d fucked like it was a revelation, her eyes closed, her lips curling into a secret smile. When she said she wasn’t sexy, she must have meant she didn’tfeelsexy, and whose fucking fault was that?
Noah reached for his smokes, placing one between his lips and lighting up. Everyone had a map of how to fuck—where it started and what to do. He’d bet his tattooing hand Nicole’s was designed around her ex. That dickhead must have liked her posing like a model in a skin magazine, helping him re-enact his favourite pornos. Well, he could go fuck himself. He was old news. He’d made Nicole feel sexy and if he had half a chance, he’d do it again.
He lay there, smoking and recalling Nicole’s body—the tight pink of her nipples, the splash of black hair on her pubic bone, the red flower of her cunt. He didn’t do portraits, but he’d give every dollar he had to paint her naked. He’d have her on his bed, smiling that just-fucked smile, the afternoon sun turning her skin to moonbeams. He’d paint her and then maybe she’d see she was beautiful.
He’d made a study of Nicole over the past few weeks and barely a day passed when someone, usually a male client, told her she had beautiful hair, pretty eyes, a gorgeous figure. The smile she gave in response was bright and empty. “Oh, thank you! Thanks so much!”
It was white noise. She didn’t think she was beautiful, so it didn’t matter. And maybe it didn’t, she’d given no signs she wanted him playing some pseudo boyfriend role in her life, soothing her nerves and painting her naked like that guy in fuckin’ Titanic. What she needed from him wasn’t sloppy compliments. It was dick.
He could show her the ugly side of sex; that was what she wanted, after all. And if they opened painful places, maybe he could slice them open and bleed her clean. An ugly metaphor, but pretty people could be ugly. That was what he’d tried to show her. Sex could be ugly. The good things in life weren’t all beautiful. She was, though. The best-looking woman he’d ever slept with. Noah drew deeply on his cigarette. He wasn’t sure what was next for him and Nicole, but he was sure he’d find out. The energy that had brought them together wasn’t going to fade after one, admittedly stellar, fuck.
***
Nicole wasn’t in the office the next morning. Neither Sam, nor Tabby seemed surprised by this, but Noah couldn’t ask why without showing his hand. He kept his head down, literally, filling in a blackwork angel he was tattooing onto Ferdinand’s thigh. He was a bricklayer whose daughter died in a car crash. His soft sniffs and gentle questions kept Noah’s focus razor sharp. When they were done, it was another story. He had an hour-long break to drink coffee and smoke and wonder where the fuck she was. His next client, a vet from Preston, cancelled on him—annoying, but she agreed to pay half his hourly fee. Now with even more time on his hands, Noah settled himself at reception and tried to readDestiny’s Dawn.
He failed miserably. Every time the door opened, every time someonewalked past, he looked up, his adrenaline spiking. Didn’t help that he’d slept like shit. He’d had the same fucked up dream over and over— Nicole naked in the doorway of The Rangers clubhouse. He ran to pull her away and she turned to silver water between his fingers. Didn’t take a genius to join the metaphysical dots on that one.
The tiger doorbell roared, alerting him to a new client. Not Nicole; worse than Nicole.
“Heya!” Daniella’s lipstick matched her pink mini-dress perfectly, and unless he was mistaken, there was a sharpness beneath the pep.
Alarmed, Noah tried to think if they’d arranged to meet and came up blank. “Hey. I don’t have you in today, do I?”
“No, I just wanted to see you.” Her smile was hard as varnish. “You didn’t answer my text about drinks.”
Fuck, she was right. The message had come a few hours after he’d finger-fucked Nicole in his tattooing chair and he’d read without seeing, forgot it existed until now. “Sorry.”
“No problem,” she said, though her smile was hard. “Are we still on for drinks?”
Noah rubbed the back of his neck.No time like the fucking present, son.“I, uh, don’t think that’s a good idea. Sorry.”
Daniella’s smile vanished. “Why?”
“I just…”
“Come on, tell me. I can take it.”
The hardness in her voice surprised him. He opened his mouth and the truth came out. “I’m interested in someone else.”
Daniella looked like a girl who’d just missed her bus. “Is it that woman who helped us with the card-swipe thingy?”
Noah did a double take. “Yeah, Nikki. How’d you know?”