Eye Contact Page 13

“I know, and I’m grateful. Just try to relax. I promise I’m not going to do anything to make you uncomfortable, at least not intentionally.”

  “Okay. Good. Cool.” I sounded like a complete idiot, and he laughed.

  “Andie, let’s just agree to keep it casual. It’ll be fine.”

  “Deal,” I pledged, wanting so badly to not regret this decision. “So…what are you doing today?” Man, I am awkward.

  “I’m meeting with a client at two for a final fitting and polish.”

  “Oh, awesome. Your job sounds so fascinating to me. What’s the background story?”

  “He’s a young guy, actually. Military, or was anyway, injured in Afghanistan, I think, and ended up losing his eye.” Lost in his explanation, I pictured his hands crafting the prosthetic and wished I could see it in person. “I’ve been working more and more with the VA hospital recently. It’s always a pretty rewarding experience.”

  “It would be cool to see you in action.”

  “Any time you want,” he offered excitedly. “I meant it when I invited you to come check out the shop. What are you doing now? Come see my studio. I’ll give you a special behind-the-scenes tour.” The flirtation in his tone was undeniable.

  “I can’t today, unfortunately. I’m going to visit my mom later and can’t really cancel those plans.”

  “No biggie. I understand. Some other time.”

  “I guess it’s only fair since you’ve already seen where I work,” I joked, trying desperately to keep things light.

  “Yeah. If only I could’ve seen it some other way, like a not-almost-dying kind of way. That would’ve been a bit more pleasant, I’m sure.”

  “You’re probably right. So, speaking of near-death experiences, how are things going with your recovery? You looked like you were getting around pretty well the other day.”

  “Oh, thanks. It’s difficult to make crutches look sexy, but I do what I can.”

  If you only knew.

  Laughing at his banter, I felt more at ease the longer we talked.

  “Are you getting enough help? I mean, I know you can’t drive yet.”

  “Yeah, my assistant has been great—a little bit of a pain in the ass, but I suppose that’s what I need.”

  “Is she like an intern or something?” I tried not to sound too intrusive. “She looked young.”

  “Not anymore. She started out as one and was so good that I hired her to stay on. My life would be in shambles if not for her.”

  “Not the most organized person, huh?”

  “Not even a little bit,” he admitted. “It’s weird. I’m such a perfectionist with my art and work, but when it comes to life, all the details fall to the wayside.”

  “I think that’s a guy thing.”

  “Maybe. So, when can I see you again?”

  “Just like that? Throwing it right out there, huh?” I couldn’t avoid it anymore, and if I was honest, I didn’t really want to.

  “Keeping things casual but moving forward. Let me take you to dinner.”

  “Dinner, huh? Sounds like a date.”

  “No, not a date,” he declared with certainty. “A date is when I drive my car to pick you up, walk to your front door without crutches, and open the car door for you, like a gentleman.”

  “I see. I stand corrected.” His description of what a date would start out like made me wish his leg wasn’t broken. “So this is just a friend picking up another friend who happens to be slightly handicapped at the moment? Just being nice? Getting him out of the house for some healing fresh air?”

  “Precisely. Maybe I should’ve asked if you would take me to dinner.” The trace of laughter in his voice was fun and made me feel relaxed. “But I’ll pick up the tab, of course.”

  “But that would make it a date.”

  “Nonsense. Haven’t you ever heard of ‘You fly, I’ll buy’?”

  I chuckled and wished in that moment that I hadn’t made plans to go to my mom’s later in the day.

  “Okay, okay. You can let me let you take me to dinner where I drive and you pay.”

  “Deal. When are we doing this?”

  “I work tomorrow, and depending on how crazy the shift is, I may need to take a nap, but I could theoretically go out to dinner afterward.”

  “Sounds great.” His tone was deep and eager.

  “I can’t promise I’ll be able to keep the yawns at bay. Don’t take it personally if I’m exhausted.”

  “Deal. Any and all yawns will not be misconstrued as a sign of boredom and will be forgiven immediately.”

  “Okay. So…I’ll call you, I guess.”

  “And I’ll answer, I guess,” he playfully replied. “Have a good shift, Dr. Fine.”

  “Thanks. Good luck with your client today.”

  We hung up and I felt as if a giant boulder had been lifted off of my chest. I didn’t know if saying yes to a friendship with him was the right decision, but it was certainly fun scratching the itch. If we didn’t have any chemistry, at least I’d know for sure and would be able to move on with no regrets. It was what to do when and if we did have chemistry that had me feeling so apprehensive.

  Chapter 22

  Andie

  “So, what are you wearing?” Rowan squealed with glee through the phone.

  “Ughh, I don’t even know. Let’s not do this obligatory girly thing where you have to bash my fashion choices and offer to come curl my hair.”

  “Do you need me to come curl your hair?”

  “I am NOT curling my hair.”

  “Why are you being so grouchy?” she retorted, putting my bad attitude in check.

  “I’m not. I mean, I guess I—I’m sorry. I’m nervous enough as it is and don’t want to put any extra pressure on it by acting like it’s a date.”

  “But it is a date.”

  “It’s not a date.”

  “You’re going to dinner with a smoldering hot guy who has made it very clear he’s interested in dating you. It’s a date.”

  “He’s not that hot, and it’s not a date. We’re just friends. I’m even driving.”

  “He is most definitely that hot, and you’re only driving because he’s in a freaking cast and physically can’t drive. You and I both know you’re not just friends.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “I wish you could have seen you guys. The way you looked at him the other day at Busy Bean, the way he looked at you—he’s smitten, and you are eating it up.”

  “You’re so full of shit.”

  “You can deny it if you want, but there might as well have been visible sparks between you, the chemistry was so hot.”

  “Nothing about us standing there chitchatting was hot. Are you that sexually frustrated right now?”

  “I assure you, I’m not, and don’t try to make this about me. Just tell me what you’re wearing.” She was demanding and getting annoyed.

  “I’m wearing dark jeans, an army green t-shirt, and my Converse.”

  “Jesus, take the wheel,” she muttered under her breath in an appalled tone of voice. “You are absolutely NOT wearing that on a first date with hot car accident guy.”

  “I absolutely am.”

  “No. You can’t. I won’t let you.” As if I needed her permission to do anything.

  “You really think he’s that hot?”

  “Hell yeah, and he’s the first guy I’ve ever seen you even take a second glance at, so you’re not screwing this up by looking like a homeless preteen on your first date. Haven’t you ever heard of making a good first impression?”

  “He’s already seen me.” It wasn’t like this was a blind date I needed to look all dolled up for.

  “Yeah, in scrubs and a lab coat. This is different.”

  “But this is how I dress in real life.”

  “Well it isn’t today, Andie. Just let me help you.” She spoke to me as if I were acting like a petulant little toddler…and perhaps I was, kind of.

  “Fine. What do you th
ink I should wear?”

  Sighing in relief, she quickly replied, “Oh, thank God. I’m already on my way over there. See you in two minutes.”

  I had thought I heard the sounds of driving in the background over the phone. My best friend was sweet but incorrigible. Glancing at myself in the full-length mirror again, I didn’t think I looked bad at all. I looked casual, sure, but not homeless. What was the big deal, anyway?

  The sound of my heavy front door slamming shut alerted me to her arrival and she stomped up the stairs, singing, “Here I come to save the daaaaaay,” to the tune of the Mighty Mouse theme song.

  She took one look at me, reacted with a huff, a disappointed expression, and an overly dramatic eye roll, and asked, “How much time do I have?”

  “I have to leave in thirty minutes,” I replied in an apologetic tone while sucking air in through my teeth.

  “That should be enough.” She plopped a few articles of clothing she’d brought from her closet onto my bed and made her way over to my closet, rifling through hangers to find a more suitable option. “Go ahead and take your hair down.”

  “Why? I don’t like my hair down.”

  “TAKE YOUR FREAKING HAIR DOWN, ANDIE!”

  Her raised voice and stern direction startled me into instant compliance.

  “Vaughn has only ever seen you with your hair pulled up in some half-ass messy bun that’s spent the majority of the day under a surgical cap. You have beautiful hair and you’re wearing it down, at least to start.” She entered my bathroom, where I was standing in front of the mirror, and began sifting through my cabinets, placing random hair products on my counter as she spoke. “You can throw it up later, after you’ve made your first impression.”

  I scoffed and she scoffed back, wetting her hands under the sink to finger-comb some water into my hair. I stood still and let her basically have her way with me. She spritzed some sort of product in my hair and alternated between scrunching and wrapping chunks of hair around her fingers.

  “Beachy waves—we’re going for beachy waves here,” she announced. “I don’t have enough time to do anything else.”

  “Ro, I don’t need all of this.”

  She plugged in my hair dryer, attaching a diffuser on the end, and turned it on the low setting, ignoring my lame attempt at protest. I decided in that moment that I better just go with it and stop resisting her.

  “What should I do with my makeup?” I asked, trying to sound genuine.

  She smiled a huge victorious grin and relaxed her shoulders like she had just won a prize.

  “Put a little foundation under your eyes and across your cheeks. We’re going to keep it natural and light.”

  I did as she instructed, lightly sponging some creamy foundation on my face in what she called “the T-zone” then brushing some powder over it all. She finished drying my hair and looked pleased with the result, which I had to admit was pretty cute. It looked normal and not too done up. I made sure to slip a hair tie onto my wrist for later.

  “Okay, let’s put a little blush on and then we’ll do mascara.”

  “Blush? For real?” I complained. “I don’t want to look like a clown. I don’t even think I own any blush.”

  “Don’t worry, I brought mine,” she replied reassuringly. “And a little goes a long way. I won’t make you look like a clown, I promise.”

  I insisted that I put my mascara on myself, not wanting to get accidently stabbed in the cornea. When I stepped back to look at the whole picture, I was pleasantly surprised with my appearance. I looked…awake. My rosy cheeks didn’t resemble Bozo at all, and my eyes looked open and bright. My hair was loose and flowy—just like beachy waves, actually. Rowan had done a great job, and I made sure she felt my appreciation when I hugged her. I may have given her a hard time, but I was lucky to have her in my corner.

  “Now, let’s get on with it and find you something better to wear,” she announced, leaving the bathroom. I followed. “Those jeans you have on are actually cute, but the shirt has got to go.”

  She reached into her stack of pulled articles of clothing and held up a hanger with a shirt I had never seen before.

  “Here, try this on.” She held up a baby blue blouse with cut out shoulders and flowy ruffles. “Where’s your strapless bra?”

  I retrieved it from the top drawer of my dresser and she turned away as I raised the green t-shirt over my head and changed my bra to the nude strapless one. I took the shirt off the hanger and slipped it on, liking the soft feel of the fabric, then turned to her for approval.

  “Perfect! I knew it would fit you.” She rummaged around in her bag, pulled out a long chain necklace with a jeweled tassel-looking thing on the end, and handed it to me to put on. “Your stud diamond earrings are perfect, and this necklace will tie it all together.”

  I turned around and looked into the full-length mirror, immediately loving how cute I looked.

  “This is—yeah, much better than what I had going on before you came over.”

  “I know,” she said in a duh-like tone. “I don’t understand why you try to resist my help. Now, do you have nude heels?”

  “I really don’t want to wear heels.”

  “Nude sandals, then?”

  I entered my walk-in closet and came out with a pair of nude-colored sandals with a low wedge heel and held them up. “What about these?”

  Rowan smiled and clapped her hands together. “Perfect!”

  I stood for a few seconds, feeling a wave of insecurity wash over me.

  “You don’t think it’s too much? These jeans are too tight and I feel so exposed with my shoulders bare.”

  “Andie! No, it’s not too much. It’s cute. You look soft and feminine and casual with just a hint of dressiness. Stop second-guessing it.”

  I exhaled and resigned myself to going with it. She certainly had more experience at dating than me, and as much as I’d tried to convince myself this wasn’t a date, I knew it was. It was my first date with a guy I was actually interested in, and the truth was, I wanted to look attractive. I wanted him to like me.

  “Okay. Well, I guess I should go then.”

  “Where does he live?” she inquired.

  “Riverside. I’m supposed to pick him up in fifteen minutes.”

  “Where are you going to dinner?

  “I don’t know,” I admitted, stopping in my tracks. “He didn’t tell me. Why?”

  “I just want to know where to come save you if you need a bailout later.”

  “I’m sure I’ll be fine.”

  “You most certainly are,” she quipped, chuckling at herself.

  We made our way downstairs and she shoved the things I would need from the cross-body bag I always carried as a purse into a nude clutch that sort of matched my shoes. “Here,” she offered, leaning in to hug me again.

  “Have fun.”

  I whispered, “Thank you,” into her ear and we both left.

  Plugging his address into my GPS, I followed the direction of my robotic female navigator, feeling more nervous every mile I got closer to his house—or shop—whatever it was. I almost wished I’d had a glass of wine or something before leaving to try to relax, but it was too late for that.

  As the woman announced that I had arrived at my destination, I looked left and saw a warehouse building. A black Chevy Tahoe was parked in the front, but other than that, it was an empty lot. There was no business sign anywhere, but checking the address he’d given me, I confirmed it was the right place. I parked and got out, walking shakily to the only front door I saw. I gave three curt knocks as I thought, Here goes nothing.

  Chapter 23

  Vaughn

  The sound of the knocking on the door was suddenly the best sound I had ever heard, and I was happier than a pig in shit knowing who was on the other side of it. Crutching over took a few seconds longer than it would’ve to walk normally, so I yelled that I was coming so she would know I was on my way.

  The urge was too strong, and I
couldn’t resist peeking out of the peephole. What I saw on the other side took my breath away, and I was thankful I had given myself that moment before greeting her. She was stunning.

  “You made it,” I proclaimed as I opened the door. She smiled and removed her sunglasses.

  “I did.”

  “Come in, please,” I invited, giving a wider berth to allow her to walk past me. “I know it’s nothing fancy, but I’d love to show you around if you’re up to it.”

  “I’d love to see it.” She stood in the center of the room and spun, her eyes darting around to take it all in. “It’s so much more than what you would think from the outside. I wasn’t sure I was at the right place.”

  I hobbled over to stand next to her and began explaining the layout. “Over there”—I gestured to an area immediately to the right of the entrance—“is the consultation room. Come see.” She followed me patiently as I walked into the completely separate room that resembled a mix between a doctor’s office exam room and a standard corporate office. A few wall hangings of different prosthesis themes decorated the pale blue-gray drywall, and a large desk sat in the center. There were a few chairs and a loveseat-sized couch to the side against the wall, and on the left side of the room was a countertop surface and a sink.

  “This is where I initially meet with clients to assess their needs. We even measure and fit them in this room and sometimes make the mold for their prosthesis too.”

  “Ahh. That explains the sink. It’s very nice,” she complimented. “I’d definitely be more comfortable meeting in here rather than the warehouse space.”

  “Oh, for sure. That was definitely not an ideal setup. This is working out much better, and clients seem to like it.”

  We exited the room, her walking out before me, and I continued to describe the workspace to her as I pointed to different areas.

  “Over there is where I paint the iris button to match the other eye.” She didn’t hesitate in walking over to where I had a drafting desk set up, multiple close-up photos posted to a tabletop easel, and lots of painting supplies. My work laptop was closed.

  Seeing my current work in progress mounted on top of the desk, she turned back to ask, “You’re working on one now?” Her voice was inquisitive and excited.