Vain - Part Two (The Vain Series Book 2) (2 page)

"You look like me." The pitch of her voice is higher than mine, there's a Southern lilt within it that she's trying to mask. I can tell by the way she speaks in an even tone. "You really look like me."

I stare at her face. She could be my sister. She's slightly more petite than I am, but her features resemble mine. "You do look like me."

"No, you look like me," she teases as she runs her fingers along my forearm. "I love your shoes."

I look down at the plain, black
stilettos I chose for the evening. My desire to mute my appearance so I could fade into the background once my pictures were revealed has been blown to hell. I've created my own circle of attention because I assumed the portrait was me. Why wouldn’t I? Noah took my photograph for weeks for this show.

"Do you like my picture?" Her hand gracefully runs over the length of her body on the canvas.

"It's beautiful," I whisper as my eyes glide over it with an awakened perspective. I see her within the lines of the woman's face now. I see how her lips jut forth when she opens her mouth. I see the contour of her brow. I see her lost in pleasure. The pleasure that she felt when she was in Noah's bed.

"I didn't think I could look like that." There's vulnerability woven within the words. "Men told me I was pretty when I… you know…when they hired me."

"You're really beautiful," I say the words deliberately. She is.

"You're saying that because we look so much alike." The weakness washes away and a dazzling smile covers her lips.

I can't help but smile back, even though a part of my mind is locked on the image of Noah pulling his body from hers before he reached for his camera to capture the flush that had raced over her face and body after she came.

"I'm glad you two met." There's marked amusement in Noah's voice.

"You definitely have a type," she quips playfully before grabbing his hand in her own. 

He jerks back suddenly and my eyes dart to his face. It's locked on something behind me. A wide grin covers his mouth and he inches forward. "Here's someone you both should meet."

"What have we here?" Brighton's voice does little to soothe all the confusion I'm feeling.  He's caught up to me.  I can feel him behind me. I thought I'd dodged that bullet for the night when I disappeared into the crowd.

I don’t respond. I'm not emotionally mature enough to be able to separate everything I'm feeling to the point where I can deal with Brighton objectively. I'm feeling so scattered right now that I'm tempted to rush out the door with him. I know that falling back into his arms will wash away Noah's words from my body and the unwanted knowledge that he probably fucked each of the twelve women in these photographs.

"I'm Amy." The model in Noah's portrait thrusts her arm out. I feel the friction against my arm when she shakes Brighton's hand.

"Brighton," he acknowledges in a warm tone.

"I need to mingle." Her hand brushes against my shoulder. "We can party later."

"No, I…" my voice trails wishing I could somehow communicate to her that I don't want her to walk away. The moment she does that, I'm going to be alone with these two.

"The four of us." She twirls her perfectly manicured hand in the air, circling it around Noah, Brighton and I. "I'm working out of a hotel down the street tonight. Noah, you game? I'll cut you a special rate."

I flinch when I feel Brighton's hand rest on my hip. I try to step forward but he clamps down, holding me in place. His hot breath runs over my shoulder.

Noah's eyes blaze over Brighton before settling on his hand. "Brighton, you just met her. Hands off." His tone is meant to be teasing and playful but there's a fierceness that skirts the edge.

Amy's eyes follow the path of Noah's gaze and her brows rise. "He wants her which means you're stuck with me."

"We're done here, Amy." He reaches down to run his lips over her cheek. "You can go."

"We'll party later?"

"No. We won't." He pulls back from her, his jaw set and rigid.

She shrugs her shoulders, takes one last longing look at her nude portrait and turns towards the crowd. She flawlessly glides into place beside an older man, her arm comfortably lacing around his shoulder.

"Brighton, your hand." Noah's chin drops as his eyes focus once again on Brighton's unyielding grip on my hip.

"Alexa was upset earlier." Brighton steps closer until his body is pressed firmly against mine. "I'm just checking on her."

Noah's jaw tightens as his eyes dart from my face to Brighton's. "She's fine. It's been a long day. I'm taking her back to our room."

"Your room?" Brighton hisses. "You're staying in a room with him?"

"She's with me," Noah growls. The words don't hold any ambiguity. They're direct and concrete.

"Beck." I exhale in a heated rush. "I didn't have a chance to tell you..."

"Beck?"  Noah sucks in a deep and measured breath. "Why did you call him that? What the hell is going on, Alexa?"

This is the first, and only time, I've seen the impassable façade of Noah Foster, the famed photographer, crack. He takes a heavy step forward and I recoil just from the sheer mass of his large frame. I feel my knees buckle and Brighton's hands surround my waist to offer me stability. I reach for one, not as a gesture of gratitude, but as a point of balance. Noah's penetrating gaze burns a path to where my hand now covers Brighton's, holding steadfast to it.

"You know each other?" His mouth twitches as the words sail over his lips. "How? From where?"

The stiff silence that fills the air behind me shouldn't surprise me. It's not as though Brighton will pipe up and explain that he was sleeping with me while tending to the needs of his injured girlfriend in Paris. I drop my hand from his as I take a small step towards Noah. The air in the slender space between them is heavy and thick with confusion.

"It doesn't matter." I mean it. It doesn't matter at this point how I know Brighton or where we met.  "It doesn't matter anymore."

"Tell me how you know each other." Noah's posture stiffens, his hands bolt to his hips. "Brighton, how do you know her?"

"I lived in Paris for a semester," I stall, wanting to find the right words to explain this to him. "We have mutual friends."

His breath shoots over my forehead. "How well do you know him?"

"Noah," I whisper, wanting to temper my confession. I have no idea if he knows Brighton's girlfriend, Liz. I don't know if Brighton is still with her. I can barely shoulder the guilt of having an affair with him. How can I tell Noah about that when they're such close friends?

His hands jump to my face, cupping both my cheeks. He leans down, resting his forehead against mine. "Alexa," he whispers into the air between us. "Tell me."

"I can't." I jerk back hoping that Brighton will take the lead and fill in the blanks for Noah. Again, only muted silence fills the space behind me. "He was there with his girlfriend. I didn't know. I wouldn't have done it if I knew about her."

Noah's eyes pierce into me, his expression stoic. "You've fucked him, haven't you?"

I can only hang my head in shame. I hear a muted curse as he brushes past me and his footsteps disappear into the hum of the crowded gallery.

"I saw Beck." I lean back on the couch, shifting my legs so my feet are resting against the edge of the small table.

"Beck?" Kayla shrieks from the kitchen." You're shitting me."
"I'm not," I begin. "It was three days ago. I went to New York for a thing and he was there."
A thing?
I can't come up with something better than that. It's not surprising given the fact that I've blocked out much of that trip out of sheer need. I'd waited in that empty hotel room all night for Noah to arrive and he hadn't. The long and lonely train ride home had given me ample time to decide that I needed to put Noah Foster and Brighton Beck behind me. One had abandoned me in the heart of New York City and the other had broken my heart in the most romantic city in the world. I need to stay away from anyone who makes their living selling art.

"What kind of thing?" She bounces towards me with a full plate of nachos in her hand.

"Where did you get the cheese for that?" I lean forward, my nose inhaling the scent wafting from the plate. "I haven't bought any cheese in a long time."

"I cut off the green parts." She shrugs her shoulders as she tosses a crunchy chip into her mouth. "Try them. They're good."

"I'll pass." I push the plate back at her. "I'm not that brave."

"What did he say to you?" I can barely make out her words between the bites.

"We didn't have a chance to talk." It wasn't a lie. We hadn't. The fact that Brighton had sent several text messages since I saw him in New York isn't worth mentioning to Kayla. Knowing her, and her insatiable need for all things romantic, she'd want me to call him up and arrange a dinner date right now. I'd managed to lose Brighton again in the gallery right after Noah walked away. I had no intention of talking to him now, or ever. Seeing him again had been the reminder I needed. The reminder that I fucked around with a man in a committed relationship was in the forefront of my brain. I was never going to go down that painful road again.

"What was it like?" She takes another bite of a chip and then shakes her head. "Maybe the cheese is bad."

I wrench the plate from her grasp and put it on the table. "We can go out for something to eat."

"You said you wanted to stay in."

I had said that. After getting back from a run an hour ago I felt the need to talk to someone. Kayla was the obvious choice. I still didn't have the courage to tell Sadie about any of this. She loved me, and worried about me too much not to get in the middle of it.

"I need to get a good night's sleep," I half lie. "Tomorrow I have an interview for a placement as a student teacher."

"What?" she shrieks as she jumps to her feet. "We should go out and celebrate."

I can't contain a laugh. "No, we shouldn’t. I can't be hung over when I go in for my interview."

"This is it." She claps her hands together in genuine glee. "This is the last step and then you're going to be a real teacher."

I smile at the proclamation. This was the last step. One semester of teaching under the watchful eye of the teaching staff at the grade school nearby and I'd officially be a certified teacher.

***

"Where's my sandwich?" Noah's eyes tear a path over me. When Sadie had texted me as I was walking home from my job at the school, I'd fought with my own better judgement about whether or not to make the delivery. When I called her to tell her to let Bernie handle it, she told me Noah had called three times insisting I bring his food.

"Christ, Noah." My eyes dart from his groin to his face. "Put on some pants."

"It's not like you haven't seen it all before." His arm brushes past my arm to close the door behind me. "Where's my sandwich?"

"I gave it to the man who lives in the alley next to your building." I pull on the zipper of my sweater feeling a sudden need to cover the sheer white blouse I'm wearing. "You weren't going to eat it anyway."

A low chuckle races through his body. "You're right. I wasn't going to."

"Can you put on some pants?" I ask not only because it's way too distracting to look at his cock while I chastise him for leaving me alone in New York, but because it reminds me of those moments in his bedroom. Those are the moments that tug on my desire. I've come by my own hand countless times since I last saw him. The memory of him sliding his cock into me and racing his tongue over my folds is still right there. It always pulls my need to the surface at first thought.

He runs his tongue over his bottom lip as he stares at my face. "Don't run away. I'll be right back."

I bite my tongue to fight the urge to throw the words back in his face. He was the one who ran away in New York after discovering my connection to Brighton. He was the one who hadn't sent me a single text message in over a week. Come to think of it, he…

"Do you want something to drink?" He's back in the room, a pair of jeans now covering the bottom half of his body.

"No." I stand firmly in place. "Why didn't you just text me if you wanted to talk?"

He stops mid-step and shoves his hands into his pockets. "You bringing me a sandwich is our thing. I like that we have a thing."

My gaze rakes past him to the open concept apartment. I soak in the luxury of the space, using the time to consider my response. "I like it too," I offer quietly. I do like it. I like that he thinks of the first moment we laid eyes on each other.

"I thought you weren’t coming." He turns towards the spacious living room. "I ordered that sandwich hours ago."

"I'm here now." I am, but maybe not for long. "What did you want to talk about?"

"Where to start," he chuckles as he pulls his hands together in front of him. "Let's talk about Brighton."

I follow the path he takes with my eyes, watching as he settles his tall frame onto his couch. He throws his arm over the back of it. I take it as a silent invitation to join him. I don't budge. My feet remain firmly planted in the black boots I'm wearing in his foyer.

"What about him?" I ask in a muted tone. I'm still unsure how much Noah knows about Brighton's relationship with his girlfriend.

"He told me about what happened between you two." He looks over his shoulder to where I'm standing.

I step back towards the door of his apartment, wanting to make a quick escape. Brighton has been hiding behind a veil of half-truths when it comes to our relationship. He's never acknowledged to me that he cheated on his girlfriend. Each time I'd confronted him about it on the phone after returning home, he'd told me it was complicated and that I wouldn’t understand. His not-so-gentle reminders that I'm a decade younger than him have always stung, especially when he assumes I can't understand the basics of emotional connections. To Brighton, I'm the naïve, young girl who fell for the brilliant artist in Paris.

"Don't you want to know what he said?" He cocks a brow. The assumption beneath the gesture is glaringly obvious. He's testing me to see how invested I still am in Brighton.

"Beck has his own version of reality." My voice is a measure higher than my intention. I should expound on the answer and explain that Brighton had told me he wasn't with his girlfriend at the time. They're friends though and judging by Noah's glowing introduction of Brighton at his photography show's opening, Brighton's side of the story would hold much more weight than mine.

"Tell me your version of reality, Alexa."