That Girl is Mine - Part One
Read That Girl is Mine - Part One Online
Authors: Eve Cates
Copyright 2015, EVE CATES
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Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means without the prior written permission of the author of this book.
This book is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to any person, living or dead is purely coincidental. Any actual places, products or events mentioned are used in a purely fictitious manner. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various places/products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission and is by no way sponsored by the trademark owners.
PART ONE - Avery Bishop loves her boyfriend, Josh. She loves him so much, that she's willing to put college on hold and travel across the country to California, so he can complete his residency at the Children's Hospital Los Angeles.
Needing a place to stay, they move in with Josh's childhood friend, Dylan Thompson, to save on rent. Dylan is a tattoo artist who's hardly ever home - which suits them just fine. He's moody, and gives Avery a strange feeling every time he looks at her.
Everything is perfect at first. Then Josh's position at the hospital becomes more and more demanding. It's affecting their relationship, and it means that Avery alone with Dylan more often than she's with Josh.
There's no excuse for what happens next, but Dylan has always wanted a girl like Avery and he wants her to be his...
Follow Dylan and Avery in That Girl is Mine, a forbidden romance, told in three parts.
“Did I just hear you right, dude? You have a girlfriend – a
serious
girlfriend, and you’re asking if you can both stay at my place for an undisclosed amount of time?” I ask my friend Josh, who moved across the country to New York after graduation to get his medical degree at Duke University. We’ve kept in touch as much as guys do. You know, a phone call or a text here and there. But, I haven’t seen him for the four years he’s been gone. Regardless of the distance, I still consider him one of my best friends.
Josh hesitates, and it comes across as static over the long distance call. “Uh…yeah – but just until we find our feet. I don’t want to put you out.”
I let out a sigh. “Jeez, man, I don’t know. What happened to never settling down? We’re twenty-three years old. Are you really sure about this girl?”
Josh laughs, warm and friendly. “Yeah, I am. Once you meet her, you’ll understand. She’s really something else.” I can hear the smile in his voice, as well as what I think is the sound of love. Holy fuck, how the hell did my party loving friend end up falling for some girl in New York?
“I knew I should have never let you out of my sight. This is a catastrophe. What am I going to tell all the girls who have been pining for you while you’ve been gone?”
He laughs. He doesn’t believe me. But, the man could pull, and I honestly do get asked about him when I run into some of the girls we went to school with. “Tell them I’m taken. They’ll get over it. Can we stay or not?”
I press my fingers to my temple. “I don’t know man I never let chicks in my house, and there’s one bathroom, she’ll stink it up with flowery shit…”
“She’s not like that. I promise. She’s easy to get along with, doesn’t use all the hot water – you’ll hardly even know she’s there.”
Reaching up, I run my hand through my dark blond hair, pulling it upward in thought before I move my hand to smooth against the shaved portion about the base of my skull that shows off the tribal tattoo design I’ve recently endured. The skin is still smooth to touch where the ink has set into my scalp. “Fine,” I concede, knowing that I can’t really say no. After all, Josh is the reason I’m working as a tattoo artist now. He took my portfolio around to the local studios and ended up getting me an apprenticeship when I was too chicken shit to show anyone my work. “I’ll move my stuff into the smaller room, and you two can have the big room.”
“No way. I don’t want to put you out. The spare room is fine. I’ll be a first year resident – an intern –, so work is going to take up so much time that I’ll hardly be there, and once Avery gets a job and transfers schools, you’ll hardly see her either.”
Briefly, I wonder why they’re even coming out here together. If they’re never going to see each other, how they hell are they going to have a relationship?
“It’ll be fine. I’m hardly home myself, anyway. As long as there’s milk in the fridge and hot water for a shower, I’ll be fine. When are you arriving?”
There’s a pause. “Next week?”
“Next week? Jesus man, that’s soon. All right, I’ll meet you at the airport. Text me your flight details, and I’ll be there. Just tell your girlfriend that if I find one ‘feminine touch’ added to my house, you’ll both be out on your ass.”
He laughs. “Sure. I’ll let her know. And, thanks, buddy, this means a lot.”
“Sure. See you in a week.”
“This is
so
exciting. I’ve never been to California before. It’s so warm – why did you ever leave?” I ask, as Josh and I walk through LAX laden with our luggage, ready to start our new life together in California.
I’m born and raised in New York City, and coming from a single mother, we didn’t have much left over at the end of each month (vacations were out of the question, so I haven’t seen much of the country besides the odd bus trip when I was at school – I actually think that the amount of sun shining in from outside the airport is the most sunlight I’ve ever seen in one place).
“I left because Stanford rejected me,” Josh reminds me with a small smile. He looks tired. His golden brown hair is adorably messy, and his soft brown eyes look like they’re struggling to focus and stay open. There’s a light smattering of dark stubble creeping from his chin, and I wonder how it grew so fast when I watched him shave it this morning.
Josh is a nervous flyer, so he didn’t sleep at all last night, and the plane was so bumpy on the way here from JFK that he was on edge the entire time. I didn’t sleep so great either from being worried about him, but the excitement of a new city is buoying my energy for the moment.
“Well, Stanford sucks,” I say in reply, while secretly feeling happy that they did reject his application, because otherwise, I wouldn’t be here right now.
As if reading my thoughts, he leans in close and says, “Although, I’m glad they did, because if I didn’t go to Duke, how would I have met you?” He presses a kiss to the side of my head, and I grin, a warm feeling fluttering about in my chest as I wish we weren’t carrying so many bags so I could hug him.
“Is that for us?” I ask, looking ahead and seeing a small girl with bright pink hair, a nose piercing and deep red lipstick, holding up whiteboard with ‘Josh & Avery’ written on it in thick black marker. Underneath is a hand drawn picture of a skull and crossbones. “Is this your school friend, Dylan? Does she think we’re pirates, or poison or something?” My brow furrows in confusion. I thought Dylan was a guy. Josh just laughs.
“No, that’s not Dylan. Actually, I’m not sure
who
that is. Must be one of his friends. He lifts his hand and waves at the tiny girl, and she smiles widely.
“Dylan
is
a boys name, right?” I ask, suddenly wondering if I have this all wrong. Not that it really matters if Dylan is a girl. It’s just that I thought Josh’s best friend from high school was a boy, and I’d feel a lot better living with another boy than I would with another girl. It’s not that I don’t trust Josh with another girl in the house. It’s just that I don’t really trust other girls around josh. He has this air about him that seems to lure women in, and I’ve had to warn more than a few off him in our two years together. He thinks my jealousy is hilarious and swears that he only has eyes for me. But, I just look into his soulful brown eyes, and I hope to god that he’s right. I don’t know what I’d do without him – which is exactly why I’m here, all the way across the country from my home and my family, about to move in with someone I don’t even know, all so we can make a start on our own happily ever after.
When Josh received notification that he’d been accepted into a three year residency program at the Los Angeles Children’s Hospital, I was both elated and upset. I knew it was a big deal – a place in that program isn’t easy to come by; but I also knew it would mean that he’d have to leave me.
I had tried to be strong and understand that it would only be for a couple of years until I finished college and could maybe move to LA with him. But, when the first tear fell, he couldn’t bear seeing me upset and asked me to come with him straight away. My mom wasn’t happy because I didn’t secure a transfer before heading here. But, I knew in my heart that I couldn’t spend two years with only phone calls and the occasional visit from Josh. So I decided to take a risk and leave with him.
We both know it’s going to be hard. Becoming a doctor in diagnostics is Josh’s dream, and we know that he’s going to be working incredibly long hours which means I won’t see him for days at a time. But I love him, and I support his dream, and seeing him for a couple of hours here and there, is way better than not seeing him at all.
Even though he’s tried to act as though it’s no big deal, Josh is incredibly excited about returning to California. He grew up in Encino, and only left so he could go to Duke. Being the youngest of three boys, Josh was the last to fly the coop and his parents have since sold up. They’re currently touring the country in a massive campervan with a bumper sticker that brags about spending their kid’s inheritance. I think it’s kind of funny, but Josh and his brothers don’t really see it that way. So I leave his family politics to him.
His brothers are both off on their own adventures. One lives in Sweden and is doing some sort of anthropological study, while the other is a broker on Wall Street. I met the broker once for drinks. His name is Andrew, and he is the spitting image of Josh. But, I didn’t get to talk to him much, because he was forever on his iPhone.
So, with no family to stay with, we’re relegated to staying with friends. Josh says renting on our own will be too expensive at first, and being the wonderful man that he is, he’s tried to make this move as easy on me as possible by organizing all of our flights and somewhere for us to live – which is where this Dylan and the tiny girl with pink hair come into all of this...
“Dylan is a guy. He was on the basketball team with me back in school. He didn’t do college and he’s living in Santa Monica now.”
“What does he do for a living?”
“He’s an artist at one of the parlors on Venice Beach.”
My mouth forms an O shape, and as we get closer to the girl, I see that she’s covered in colorful tattoos all up her arms and across her chest. From a distance, I’d thought it was her shirt, but she’s wearing a strapless polka dot navy summer dress with a little white frill around the base of it.
She looks at me and smiles warmly as we approach. I smile in return, but eye her curiously. I’ve never personally known someone with that many tattoos before. I mean, I’ve
seen
people with tattoos covering every inch of their skin. But my mom kept me pretty sheltered, so I’ve never even actually
known
someone with tattoos before.
I wonder what made her decide to do that to her body?
“Hi!” she sings. “I’m Kiera. Dylan had a client, so he asked if I could meet you guys. Hope you don’t mind.”
She holds out her hand and Josh takes it, smiling and thanking her for taking the time (He’s so polite, my man! It makes me smile).
Then she shakes my hand, and I try to be as eloquent as Josh. But I think I squeeze a little too hard (I suck at figuring out the right handshake pressure) and come off sounding like I have a set of balls when my voice comes out too deep and my greeting is stilted.
She smiles politely, either not noticing or simply ignoring my awkwardness and offers to help with some of our bags. I don’t know how many she can take because she’s so tiny, but I let her have a backpack then we follow her out to her fire engine red convertible, which, when Josh makes a comment about it, she proudly announces is a 1972 Mercury Cougar XR7. I have no idea what all that means, but to look at, it’s cool and retro just like she is (I think they call her look rockabilly?). But, I wish I had a hair tie once we hit the 405, as the open top sets my red hair flying about like a thousand tiny whips that sting enough to make Christian Grey get a hard on. I catch it up and try to braid it, before it turns into a hornet’s nest of tangles that I’ll never break free.
For the rest of drive, I hold the end of my long hair so it doesn’t fall loose, and I’m grateful that the drive isn’t too far.
We pull up in front of a sunset yellow house with a flat roof and beautiful, well-kept gardens lining either side of a long pathway that leads to a white front door. I exchange glances with Josh, as Roxy cuts the engine. I don’t think this is what either of us expected. It looks more like someone’s muumuu wearing grandmother lives here.
“Here we are,” she says brightly, opening her door and moving to the trunk. We follow, and she helps us unload our bags, taking us inside and showing us where our room is before pointing out the most important details of the small house – bathroom, kitchen, laundry room, Dylan’s room (off limits) and the study. I look around, noticing that the furnishings all look fairly antiquated too – although they are a mish-mash. It’s as if they’ve all been purchased at an estate sale.
In the lounge, there’s a black leather couch facing a large flatscreen, and either side of that are two single chairs. One is an emerald green leather recliner, and the other looks like it came from a doctor’s waiting room with bright red fabric on a square cushioned chair. They surround a coffee table that appears to be a slice from a thick tree that’s been covered in resin and hollowed out for storage. And on the wall, is a life-like painting of an elderly gentleman with a monocle on his eye and a mustache.
The kitchen is bright. The cupboards are all light blue and the tiled splash back is white and royal blue. The bathroom is much the same, and the bedroom we’re staying in has this old looking bed frame that could very well have belonged to a Viking lord based on the ornate carvings around the headboard. I’m not sure what Dylan’s room looks like, but I figure it’s more of the same eclectic taste. It’s not bad; it’s just…different. Although, the one thing that does stand out to me is that all through the house are these built in bookcases that don’t have any books on them. Weird.
“And that’s pretty much it,” Roxy smiles when she’s done, holding out the key for us take. Josh thanks her and slips it in his pocket.
We begin to walk her out, and I can’t help but ask a question I’ve been wondering about since she started giving us the home tour.
“Are you Dylan’s girl?” Her perfectly lined eyebrows shoot up, and she turns to me and bursts out laughing as if I just said the funniest thing. Josh joins in as well, and I wonder if I’m missing something.
“No, honey. Dylan doesn’t have girlfriends. Never has, and I’m pretty sure he never will,” Josh explains dutifully.
“Oh,” I blurt out, realization dawning on me. It all makes sense now – the eclectic home and well kept gardens... “So, he’s gay?”
Another burst of laughter erupts from the both as Josh puts his arm around my neck and presses a kiss to my head. “You are the cutest thing,” he laughs. “No, Dylan isn’t gay. He’s the opposite – a raging heterosexual who’s afraid of commitment.”
“For want of a better word, he’s a manwhore,” Roxy adds. “But don’t worry, he never brings his women back here. This is what he calls a ‘pussy free zone’.”
My mouth falls open, and I blush. Josh notices my embarrassment at misinterpreting the conversation, and rubs his hand up and down my arm.
Roxy continues. “I’m only allowed in here because we’re just friends. I’m married and I’ve never been interested in the whole tall and handsome bad boy routine. I like them little and cuddly, just like my George.” She pulls out her cell phone and brings up a photo, spinning it around to show us a picture of her husband, who looks exactly how she just described him – like a grown cherub, happy and laughing in the photo.
She looks at it again herself with a look of adoration then slips her phone back in her purse.
“Anyway,” she says, smoothing her hand down the front of her dress. “I’d better get back. I’m sure you two want to take some time to settle in. Welcome to California.”
“Thank you, Roxy,” Josh says, and I thank her as well as she leaves.
Taking my hand, Josh pulls me against him and wraps his arms around me. I inhale his familiar scent, suddenly feeling a little tired and overwhelmed.
“Welcome to our new home, babe.”
I smile up at him. “I like that sound of that.”
“Me too,” he says, lowering his mouth to mine and kissing me slowly and softly, causing my heart rate and my breathing to increase as my body reacts to his. “Let’s go and unpack,” he whispers in a husky voice when he pulls away. “And when I say ‘unpack’, I mean, get undressed and make wild monkey love in our Viking bed.”
“I knew you’d think that too!” I laugh as he reaches down and scoops me up in his arms.