lines to get me into bed, like most women. She doesn’t get all nervous around me. She doesn’t take my shit. She reminds me of Bria.
I envy the relationship Crew has with Bria. Sometimes I think I could have that too. If Crew could overcome his past, maybe I can overcome mine.
I laugh inwardly. Who am I kidding? No woman like that could ever deal with the fucked-up person I am. It wouldn’t be fair to her. In some ways, it might even be dangerous. Ella is too good for me, that’s for damn sure.
“Liam?” She’s holding the door open for me. “This is our floor. Where’d you go?”
“Just tired from the run, and I need a glass of water. My mouth is drier than the Sahara.”
“I’ve got a bottle in my room.”
I follow her in and collapse dramatically on the floor. She gets two bottles from her fridge and lies down next to me. I rise on an elbow, drink, and put my head back down. We lock eyes for a split second before she glances away. Her chest rises and falls slowly. It makes me hard. I turn and look under the couch. “Housekeeping really needs to clean under there. I think I see a used condom.”
“Ew,” she says, hopping off the floor.
I get up, chug the rest of the water, and try to make a jump shot in the trash with the empty bottle. It misses. When I go over to pick it up, I stop at her art table. I look at one of her sketches. “Is this … me?”
She marches over and gathers all of her drawings into a pile. “Yes and no. Maybe it’s the eight-year-old version of you.”
I’m intrigued. I hold my hand out. “Can I see them?”
She thinks about it, then gives me the pile and sits on the bed. I go through each one. There are six or seven of me and a few more that aren’t. “Is this a monkey?”
“A chimpanzee,” she says.
I laugh. “You’re drawing me, and you’re drawing monkeys. What does that say about me? You think I’m a Neanderthal?”
“Chimpanzees, not monkeys, and don’t flatter yourself. Artists often draw likenesses of those who are close to them.”
I raise a brow. “So now we’re close?”
“In proximity, you dork.”
“Why are you drawing pictures of me and monkeys—sorry, chimpanzees. Do you have some kind of simian fetish?”
She hands me a folder. Inside it is a loosely bound manuscript entitled, The Adventures of Jimmy and Jojo. “It’s the series I’m illustrating. I was playing around with what the kid should look like. Your likeness seemed a good candidate.”
I can’t contain my smirk. “So you’re saying I’m hot?”
“I’m saying your face works well on an eight-year-old.”
I cringe. “Ouch, El. Way to emasculate me.”
“Nobody is denying you aren’t attractive. I think you have that roguish boy look I was searching for.”
“You think I’m attractive then.”
“Shut up.”
I laugh, put the drawings down, and get out my phone to snap a picture of the top one. “Evidence that I knew you before you became a famous illustrator.” I aim my phone at her and take another one.
She tries to cover her face. “I’m all sweaty.”
I glance at the photo. “Too late, I got one.”
She points to the door. “You have to leave. I need a shower.”
There are about fifteen comebacks I want to blurt, but I don’t. I leave and go down the hall to Garrett’s. He’s not there. I look at her picture again, and I can’t keep thoughts of her taking a shower out of my head. I strip in the bathroom. In the shower, I rub one out. I knew I’d be doing this from the minute I saw her in her running clothes. But what I didn’t know is that I’d be thinking about her doing it for me. For the first time in my whole miserable life, I’m imagining a woman tugging on my dick. I’m not thinking about sex or going down on some random girl. I’m not fantasizing about touching a woman’s breasts. I’m thinking about Ella stroking my cock. And I come all over the shower wall, shouting while I ride out the most powerful orgasm I’ve ever had.
Chapter Fourteen
Ella
“My name is Melissa. The three of you can wait out here,” she says to Ronni, Jeremy and me. “The band will be in the booth. You’ll be able to see them through this window and hear them through those speakers.”