One True Thing (5 page)

would know I’d tried.

I started toward his table. He didn’t look up

until I was standing right next to him. Those brown

eyes locked onto mine, and for a moment I froze.

Then, somehow, I managed to shove out one word:

“Hi.”

He gave me a once-over, those eyes tracing a

thorough, unhurried path from my face to my feet.

By the time he was done, I could feel heat

crawling up the back of my neck, and my breathing

had gotten all jittery.

“Well, hello to you too,” he finally said. His

voice was playful, smooth, kind of sexy… and for

some inexplicable reason, not what I’d been

expecting. I couldn’t say why—he’d only said a

handful of words to me that one day, and on a

noisy, crowded street no less—but the voice I

remembered was different.

Of course, it was entirely possible it had

morphed in my head during all my obsessing, but

that wasn’t the only thing that seemed off. That

feeling, that shock of lust and rightness and

yearning, the thing that had stolen my breath and

left me speechless… it was missing. Puzzled, I

held out a hand, hoping his touch would bring it

back. “Hi,” I said again, dumbly. He smiled

slightly, and I plowed ahead before I could wuss

out. “I’m Dusty. I wanted to apologize for not

saying thank you that day. You totally saved me

from making a fool of myself. I tried to find you

after, but I lost you in the crowd.”

All I got in response was a blank look, which

was there and gone in a flash, and then his smile

was back. He took my hand in his and shook it

briefly. “Well, you can thank me now,” he

murmured, his thumb brushing over one of my

knuckles. “I’d love a phone number to go along

with that name, and I’d love to take you out to

dinner too.”

I laughed breathlessly as he repeated the

touch, his thumb circling slowly. It wasn’t anything

like the first time, not even remotely—no sparks,

no goose bumps—but he was beautiful, and he was

staring up at me with those remarkable brown

eyes, and even if it wasn’t a repeat of that moment

from before, even if it didn’t make my heart and

body sing, it still felt good. Really good. Enough to

remind me of exactly how long it had been since

I’d been touched with anything even resembling

desire. God, did I miss it.

“I’d like that.” I forced myself to pull my

hand away so I could reach into my tote bag and

withdraw one of my business cards. It’d be simple

enough to just scribble my cell phone number on

the back. “What’s your name?”

“Oh, God, I’m sorry,” he said with a chuckle.

“Guess I forgot my manners. My name is Archer…

but you can call me Arch.”

Asher

JESUS Christ.

I sat up in bed, bleary at first, unaware of

what had woken me. Then I heard it. Laughing.

There was always laughing. I wondered what

could be so funny in a life spent barely working a

retail job and drinking all weekend… but it was

Wednesday.
Damn.

I dragged my tired ass out of bed to the living

room, ready to shut down whatever miniparty my

brother had going on. Our building was mostly

older people and professional types. The last thing

I needed was one of them calling the cops or our

landlord.

Last minute, I remembered to drag on some

sweats before I hit the door. I’d been so hot after

my shower I just passed out on my bed with a

towel. The momentary thought of walking out into

the living room stark naked so Archer’s friends

could laugh at me in that way they did, that laugh

that said they were so much better than me with

their expensive clothes and lack of real work,

made my stomach quake.

Arch and his friends were out in the living

room, just as I’d imagined, lying on the couch in

various states of inebriation, laughing at nothing at

all. Archer had a joint in his hand, and he was

about to light it—like that was okay in any reality.

“What the hell, Arch? It’s the middle of the

week. And weed? Do you want one of the

neighbors to call the freaking cops?”

“Hey, your brother’s hot too,” a boy on the

couch said. And I thought of him as a boy because

the kid couldn’t have been much more than legal.

“Do you two ever hook up with guys together?”

All right. Party’s over.
“Out!” I barked.

“Ooh, he’s a grumpy one.” One of Archer’s

friends elbowed the other. “The grumpy ones are

sooo
hot in bed. You take Arch, I’ll take him.

What’s your name?”

I stalked toward the couch, hand out. “I’m

serious, you two need to leave. My brother has

work tomorrow, and this is a quiet building.”

“
Fuck
, Ash. You are such a buzzkill.” Archer

peeled himself off the couch and headed to the

door. “Sorry, guys. You probably should go. I

wouldn’t want Asher to break something trying to

yank out his bunched-up panties.”

I felt a little bad. It’s not like I liked being

called a buzzkill. Fun was good, friends were

good, but not all the damn time. And Archer never

seemed to have time for anything other than parties

and pretty people. That was his problem. And

because of proximity, it became mine.

Friends shuffled out the door, Archer flopped

onto the couch. “Why did you have to come in here

acting like a stick-up-the-ass grandpa, Ash?”

“I don’t want to act like that. You kind of

force me to when you refuse to be even a little bit

responsible.”

“I don’t force you to do a damn thing. I have

friends, unlike some people in this room, and I

choose not to spend my entire existence working. I

don’t see anything wrong with having a social

life.”

I didn’t reply. It’s not like I had any sort of

defense for having to act like an adult… oh, wait.

We were adults. At least one of us was.

“Subject change. Guess what?”

I tried not to sigh out loud. How could he

have already forgotten we were having an

argument about actual, real things? At least I was

trying. “What, Arch?”

“I met this cute little bottom boy the other

day.”

I sighed into a long descent onto the couch.

Sometimes

my

brother

made

me

insane.

“Seriously? I’m trying to talk to you about real

shit, and you want to talk about some trick you

picked up?”

Archer elbowed me. “I haven’t picked him

up. Not really. He just came up to me all cute and

said he thought we’d met before. And he has this

accent like he’s not from around here. I’m so gonna

get with that.”

“What does that have to do with anything we

were talking about? Like work? Responsibilities?”

I stared at him, hoping to get a response other than,

well, the typical. Should’ve known better.

“You know….” Archer got up and turned to

glare at me. “Maybe if you went out and got laid

once in a while you wouldn’t be such a fucking

drag, you know?”

Maybe. Maybe if I saw that guy again.
I’d

been thinking about him a lot. More than I wanted

to admit. Sometimes I thought I saw him in a

crowd on the street—that compact little body, not

tan enough to be a California native, blond, spiky

hair, sweet, dark eyes, sunny smile. It always made

my heart beat all crazy in my chest, and I’d go to

say something to catch his attention. But it was

never him. And since I hadn’t seen anyone else that

even came close to that kind of appeal, I was

alone.

“You know I’m not like that—”

“Yeah, yeah.” Archer made a prissy face. “I

have to be in
looove
to want to fuck a guy because

I’m so much better than anyone else,” he recited in

his most obnoxious mocking voice.

“You’re an asshole.”

“You’re boring. I’m going to crash. It’s late,

and apparently some of us have to work

tomorrow.”

“I’m glad you’re going.”

Archer made a gesture that I really didn’t

want to know the meaning of and stumble-walked

down the hallway in an odd interpretation of a

straight line that ended with a full but crooked

pirouette at his door, a curtsey, and a less-than-

gentle slam.

Night, Arch. Glad we had that talk.

“OH, FUCK me harder. I want your cock in my

pussy sooo deep.”

I groaned, but not in pleasure. My ears grated

at the obvious falseness in her voice. There it was

again. Those dead eyes, that fake pleasure.

Sadness. I wanted to turn away, but I couldn’t. I

had to watch the whole scene from the viewfinder

of my camera.

“Destiny, why don’t you get on your hands

and knees,” the director ordered. “I want to see

some doggie style for a while.”

Destiny, real name Sarah Colosky, dropped

the act and waited patiently for her costar to pull

out. Then she rolled over and fanned herself.

“Can we get five, Dominic? It’s hot in here.”

“Sure thing. Back in five!” the director

called. Sarah flopped back on the bed, and I took a

relieved break from behind the camera, wiping the

sweat off my forehead. It
was
hot in the studio. The

place needed better air conditioning. The shoot

was almost done, thank God. I hated them,

honestly. It was nothing like the work I wanted to

be doing—shooting for
Vogue

and
In Style
,

rubbing elbows with supermodels and Anna

Wintour, but it paid the bills and then some, and I

knew if I wanted to not be living with Archer when

I was forty, I needed some cash in my savings

account.

“Why can’t it be you, Ash?” Sarah asked. The

question threw me off guard for a minute. Then I

chuckled. She was harmless, even if she did

proposition me on a regular basis.

“You know why it’s not me. It doesn’t have to

be you either, Sarah.” We’d been over it. Quite a

few times.

Sarah rolled her eyes. “I’m Destiny here. And

can you really see me making sandwiches at

Subway, ’cause that’s what I was doing before

Dom gave me a chance.”

I wanted to see her doing anything but what

she was doing, sandwiches included. “I guess not.”

It was easier than getting in an argument.

“And so what if you’re gay? Lots of straight

guys do gay porn, you know. I’m sure it can work

the other way.”

Aw, Jesus, Sarah. Can we not have this talk

when Dom is standing right here?
“It’s still not

my thing, hon.” I gritted my teeth. Porn, one night

stands… I had no idea why I was such an anomaly.

Archer would’ve been all over it if the porn thing

didn’t involve pussy. He was already all over the

one night stands. I heard them regularly. My

expensive headphones had been a sanity saver.

“She’s right, you know,” Dominic added from

the other side of the room. I’d been hoping he was

too distracted to hear Sarah. It wasn’t the first time

he’d said something about it to me. I had to keep

from rolling my eyes. “You’d make a killing in the

boy-next-door role. Those big ol’ eyes, and you

look so sweet and innocent.”

“Dom. We’ve talked about this.”

“I know. Just making sure you remembered,”

Dom replied with a grin. “You good, Destiny?

Ready to get started again?”

I was pretty sure I heard a sigh, but like a

seasoned pro, Sarah got on her hands and knees

and assumed the “fuck me now” face that had

nothing to do with being turned on and everything

to do with the fact that she wanted to be a history

teacher but couldn’t afford college. Sometimes I

thought that getting to know the girls made the

whole thing worse.

I got lost after work in the only place where I

ever really felt at home other than the little

bedroom studio in my apartment—the art museum.

Only there could I wander around in near silence

and stare at the paintings and photographs, beauty