CHAPTER 8

“Brenda, snap the hell out of it!” Her words were short and sharp.

I blinked harshly.

“Honestly, I can’t decide if you’re addicted to love or a commitment-phobe.”

“Both. Definitely both.”

“Don’t tell me you’re seriously thinking that being with Ivan is a bad idea.”

I leaned back in the chair. “I’ve never not thought that. He’s a very, very bad idea.”

“You really piss me off sometimes.”

“Good. At least the feeling is mutual.” I grinned and she returned it.

“Seriously, meeting his sister isn’t a big deal. You don’t even have to meet her with him. We’ll go for drinks or something.” She shrugged. “Aaron’s working late, so I’m basically sitting around like a dick every night, doing nothing.”

“Mmph,” I grunted.

I knew there’s absolutely no way I was going to get out of this. I’m going to have to meet Mish and accept that this relationship was heading to pretty serious pretty damn fast.

The hilarious thing was that the way we felt, was about as serious as it’s gonna get.

I stared into my coffee with the thought. Stripped away the sex and the jokes and you get the reality of us. Of Ivan and Brenda. We are addiction, alone and together, and we’re intense and obsessive and probably a little destructive.

We’re unhealthy. It would be naïve to convince myself otherwise. But that didn’t mean we couldn’t be healthy eventually.

I hoped.

Dayton sighed and glanced at her watch. “I have to go to a shoot. Want to come with me?”

I raised my eyebrows. “Because Ivan will like that.”

“It’s you,” she replied, standing up and shrugging her jacket on. “He likes everything to do with you.”

I tried not to roll my eyes. “Fine. I’ll come.”

“God, Bree, I can feel your excitement from here.”

“I know. I’m about to burst with it. Can’t you tell?” I followed her outside to the sound of her laughter. “I’ll follow you there.”

She nodded and got into her car. I did the same, checking my phone before starting the engine. Day pulled out of the parking lot and I drove after her.

I was not sure how I felt about watching Ivan work. Since I’d managed my addiction through avoidance for six years, putting myself in a situation that could make it worse didn’t seem like a good idea.

Shit, I knew it wasn’t. But I was still driving, because, my need to see Ivan was more than my need to run away from watching him take pictures of another girl.

If that’s what he’s doing. I dodn’t know. I should have asked. I shouldn’t have agreed to come. I should turn around and go home and have a staring competition with my cat.

I nibbled on my nails at the intersection. Since they were fake, the motion did nothing but comforted me. My jaw moved in tiny little tics, clenching when I had to pull away.

My heartbeat was steadily growing faster with both fear and anticipation. And jealousy of something that might not be. Jealousy because I didn’t want him to look at another girl, although it’s his job. Jealously because I wished I could lock him away and be the model.

I drove into a parking lot behind Dayton. My palms were sweating against the steering wheel, and I took a minute to take a deep breath while she gathered her stuff from her car.

I had the option to turn around and go.

I didn’t.

I grabbed my purse and got out.

“Are you okay?” My best friend paused by my car.

“Fine. Where are we?”

“Ivan’s new studio. Well, I say studio. It’s just a room and a kitchen right now.”

'He has a studio?' “Oh.” I swallowed back annoyance of another little thing she knew that I didn’t.

'Fuck. This is my best friend!'

'Next time I come across a frying pan, I’m smacking myself over the fucking head with it. With any luck, I’ll knock some sense into myself. With a lot of luck, I’ll knock myself out so it won’t even matter.' I said through my thoughts.

Day led me into the building. And she was right—it was not decorated or even particularly organized. Oddly enough, the lack of organization didn’t surprise me. Ivan was as organized as a freakin’ junkyard.

“Cooey!” Dayton chimed, setting her things on a desk in the corner.

With a mug in his hand, Ivan appeared from what I'm guessing was the kitchen. “You’re late.”

“You’re happy.”

“You’re late and our model is a diva with wandering hands. I’m fucking ecstatic.”

“Then you should probably tell her what to do with those wandering hands before your girlfriend cuts them off.” I smiled sweetly from the door, my words conveying only a fraction of my annoyance.

Didn’t this just get better?

Ivan’s eyes shot to me and his eyebrows went up. “What are you doing here?”

I found his eyes, and this time, I didn’t bother to hide how pissed off I was. “Right now? I’m thinking I should probably leave.”

His eyebrows rose even farther. “I didn’t mean it like that. I’m just surprised to see you.”

“Evidently,” I replied dryly, sitting at the desk. I dumped my purse on the floor. “Or you probably wouldn’t have spoken about wandering hands so easily.”

“Day? Can you go and see if our model is ready?” Ivan asked her.

She nodded, shooting out of the door.

Ivan placed his mug down on the desk and slowly moved around the wooden furniture. I tilted my head back as he got closer to me. He gripped both arms of the cushy leather chair I was sitting in and lowered his face towards mine.

“Cut it out,” he said softly yet sharply, his contradicting words setting off an equally contradicting mix of soothing and riling feelings inside me. “I have a job to do, Brenda, and if you’re going to have a problem with me doing it, then my studio isn’t the place for you.”

My jaw dropped. “Are you kicking me out?”

“No. But I am reminding you the door is to your left if you need to use it.”

I narrowed my eyes at him. “Don’t worry. There’s no need to flick your dickhead switch to ‘on.’ I’m totally aware of where the door is.”

A terse moment passed between us until it was broken by Dayton’s voice. A high-pitched giggle followed it, and Ivan straightened.

“We’re ready,” Day said, her eyes flicking to me.

I shrugged my shoulder the tiniest bit and she seemed to get it, because she turned her attention back to her job.