Avoiding Intimacy (9 page)

He laughed, reaching down and splashing water on her lap. She squealed and shielded herself from his attack.

“You don’t even know me. Judgey, judgey!”

“I surrender,” she said, raising her hands over her head now that she was wet from the waist down. “Waving a white flag!”

“That’s better,” he said, eyeing her mischievously.

She brought her arms down slowly.

“But, come on,” she said, inching away from him, “didn’t you want to?”

“Want to?” he asked as if that was a stupid question. “Of course, I
wanted
to…” He paused.

“And?” she prompted.

He laughed again. “And, when I went home on winter break sophomore year, she was divorced from her husband, so I did.”

Chyna cackled. She knew it! “Now, who’s judgey, huh? I pegged you spot on,”

she said, punctuating her last three words with sharp pokes to his chest with her finger.

He reached out quicker than she had expected and snatched up her wrist, wrapping his long fingers all the way around it. He pulled her forward and threw part of her weight toward the water.

She screamed, not having anticipated actually getting in the water, and reached out for him to save herself. Her hand came up and around his neck at the same time as he put his hand on her stomach, pressing her toward the swimming pool.

“Don’t you dare!” she screamed, feeling her body edging farther and farther off of the ledge toward the water.

“Oh, don’t dare me, babe,” he said, his hazel eyes narrowing with the promise of a challenge.

“I will kill you,” she said, making a real promise.

“You wouldn’t,” he said, gripping her wrist harder and tugging her just a little bit more into the pool.

“If my hair gets wet, you will feel lucky to be alive,” she said, clutching her hand around his neck for dear life.

No way was he going to do this. It would be a complete dick move, but she was already losing her balance. She wasn’t even sure how she was still out of the water. The only thing holding her up was her hand around his neck, one foot pressed into the edge of the pool, and his hand gripping her wrist.

“Okay,” he said with a smirk.

Just then, his foot came out of nowhere and knocked her leg away from the edge of the pool, and she fell feet first toward the water. She grappled for support, any kind of support, holding onto his neck for dear life. She managed to pull him into the water with her or maybe he did it of his own accord. She wasn’t sure.

Right before her feet hit the bottom, her head about to submerge, John jerked upward on the hand he was holding and grabbed her by the waist. He had effectively kept her hair from getting wet, but now, she found herself completely pressed against his chest. Holy shit that!

That chest! He was totally ripped. Where do those muscles come from? She needed to check out more swimmers!

“You asshole!” she cried as he slowly eased her feet to the floor.

She stood on her tiptoes to keep her head above water and looked up at his laughing face.
He is beautiful!
His smile was all straight white teeth. He had little crinkle lines around his eyes and dimples at the corners of his mouth. She loved his mouth. It was the perfect shade of pink on a plump bottom lip and shapely upper lip.

She was too drunk for this!

“I said I wouldn’t get your hair wet,”

he said as he slowly released her.

She splashed water into his too cute face before reaching out for the ledge again.

“Hey, don’t be mad.” He reached out for her again, yanking her back into the pool as she tried to climb out.

“You threw me in the pool like a little kid!” she reminded him.

Her mind was on his hand that was gripping her waist, trying to keep her in the pool. Her body was betraying her, and she wished she hadn’t had that last martini…or the one before that…or the tequila shots. Because, damn, did that feel nice.

“You were acting like a little kid,” he said as she looked up into his chiseled face.

She bit on her bottom lip and tried not to let her features betray her as much as her body was. His gaze flickered to her lips and back to her eyes, and she knew that she wasn’t hiding anything.

Any other person
.
Any other situation
.

Any other person
.
Any other situation.

But not this situation.

She covered her mouth with a pretend cough and broke out of his embrace. “I guess we both were,” she admitted. “I’m going to need to shower before we go out.”

He stifled a laugh. “Me, too.”

Her eyes darted to his quickly and saw his meaning. She probably should have blushed or giggled or something equally girly, but all she did was smile, a slow devious smile. Her eyes flickered down to the water and then back into his hungry hazel eyes. He was making this difficult.

“You should probably do that then. I need to get out of these wet clothes.”

“You should,” he said, clearing his throat as he watched her pull herself out of the water, “probably do that then.”

“Oh, I will,” she said, winking at him as she dripped across the concrete floor back to the changing area.

As soon as the door closed behind her, she leaned back against it and closed her eyes, breathing heavily. What the fuck was she doing?

“This place is a dream,” Brigitte said, finishing her fourth flute of Champagne since Chyna had ventured into their midst.

“It’s an opera house,” Chyna said nonchalantly.

“I’m not an idiot!” Brigitte cried.

“Stop treating me like one. Stupid American.” The last bit was muttered under her breath.

“She didn’t have to say you were an idiot, Bridge,” Ravenna responded cattily.

Even though the woman was bitchy, she still stuck up for Chyna. Chyna wasn’t sure why, but it had always been that way.

If anyone else stepped out of line, Ravenna was certain to bite their head off without a second thought. She was a vicious opponent who didn’t back down, and it didn’t take much with many of the twits

that

circulated

the

modeling

community.

“Don’t start with me, Ravenna.”

Brigitte scowled.

“Ladies,” Giovanna cooed, “can we not?”

“Yeah, Bridge,” Ravenna spat her name out. “Keep it together.”

Brigitte teetered forward in her dress as if she were going to lunge for Ravenna.

Giovanna quickly stepped in between them.

“Will you two
please
just quit it? It is our last event together. We have been living together for nearly two months now.

We have done everything together. Can we just savor our last evening together?”

“Fine,” Brigitte agreed, stepping back and lounging against a cream chaise. Her blue dress slit open to her hip as she rested backward.

Ravenna just shrugged, leaning against the wall like a Greek goddess statue.

Black feathers trimmed her low-cut gown and held back one side of her cascading red hair wrapping around and over her right shoulder.

“Thank you,” Giovanna muttered, turning away from the girls, her dress sweeping out behind her in layer upon layer of yellow tulle.

Chyna hadn’t moved from the large window ledge she had been sitting on throughout the entire confrontation. She had been too concerned with when Marco would come for her. The four of them had disappeared into a private room after spending an hour on their feet while designers examined their gowns, taking no interest in actually speaking to the models themselves. It was dreadfully boring, and they took solace in each other’s company as soon as they could leave. They wouldn’t be able to be gone for too long before someone noticed their absence.

“
Ay! Americano
,” Brigitte chirped, saying the name like it was a dirty word.

Chyna’s head snapped up and found all three girls staring directly at her.

“Were you listening to anything we were saying?” Ravenna asked with a pointed smile.

“No,” Chyna said with a shrug. Did they say something they said been important? She assumed they were still arguing as per usual. It gave her a lot of time to drift away.

“We were just asking,” Giovanna began,

glancing

between

her

co—

conspirators for support, “what Marco is like?”

Chyna

stared

between

them,

wondering where this was going. She was sure whatever it was would only mean trouble. “What do you mean?”

“Oh, you know!” Brigitte chimed in.

“I’m sure I don’t.”

“What’s he like in bed?” Ravenna asked bluntly.

“None of you know?” Chyna asked, throwing it back in their face. Though, she was mildly curious. It’s not like she spent all her time with Marco. He could have had the opportunity to fuck every one of them if he had wanted to.

“Oh, why are we even bothering to ask her?” Brigitte asked, throwing up her hands.

“I don’t know what he’s like,”

Giovanna answered, ignoring Brigitte. “I know Bridge has no idea.”

Brigitte hmphed in frustration. She was the youngest of the bunch, and sometimes it really showed through.

“Ravenna?” Giovanna asked.

Ravenna smiled her biggest, most devious smile.

“Well?” Chyna asked, not buying her act for one minute.

Ravenna was not Marco’s type. Far from it. She was gorgeous and curvy, but she was unable, or at least unwilling, to take direction. Chyna wasn’t submissive by a long shot, but she knew when to give and when to take.

“Spit it out,” Giovanna said, planting her hand on her hip.

“Fine!” Ravenna called. “I haven’t slept with Marco, but Chyna has. So, you spit it out. What was he like?”

Chyna shrugged, looking back out the window. She didn’t have any desire to parade her sex life before these girls. The only person she had ever shared details with was Alexa, and she wasn’t here. She was in New York, probably where Chyna should be, making Alexa feel better.

“What does it matter?”

“Oh, come on. Don’t be shy,” Ravenna continued.

“Yeah, I mean, we all knew what you were really doing all those days and nights trapped in his apartment,” Brigitte pointed out.

“Do you, now?” Chyna asked, a smile playing across her features as she stared out at the darkened sky.

The moon was bright overlooking the city, but the stars weren’t all that visible with all the lights reflecting up into the atmosphere. It reminded her of New York, and for the first time, she felt a twinge of homesickness.

“Forget it,” Giovanna sighed. “She’s not going to tell us. She has kept it a secret this long. She didn’t even tell us she was having sex with him.”

“What if I wasn’t?” Chyna asked, turning back around. She crossed one bare leg over the other and watched the shimmer of her nude dress play off the dim lighting in the room.

All three girls laughed and shook their head in disbelief.

“You were,” Ravenna insisted. “The man is too obvious.”

“Well, we did work in his apartment,”

Chyna said, licking her lips.

“Yeah, I bet you used his camera.”

Giovanna winked.

Chyna couldn’t hold back her laugh at that comment. It was too true for her to even begin to deny it. Marco was obsessed with his camera, and he liked to capture everything behind his lens.

“Oh my God! Did you make a sex tape?” Brigitte cried, standing from her chaise when the thought hit her.

Chyna bit her bottom lip and raised an eyebrow as she tried to hold onto her sense of mystery.

“You did! That’s so hot! Can I see it?”

“Brigitte!” Giovanna yelled.

At the same time, Ravenna cried, “Me, too!”

“I’m not showing it to you!” Chyna shouted, also standing in her excitement.

“So, you did make one!” everyone cried at once.

Chyna covered her mouth. She was laughing so hard. It hadn’t seemed so funny at the time when they were making it, or when they had watched it after, or when they had immediately jumped right in between the sheets again because they were so hot from watching it. Now, standing there with Brigitte, Ravenna, and Giovanna, the idea that she had made a sex tape seemed utterly hilarious.

Ravenna put her hand against the wall to steady herself. “So, really, can we see it?”

“No!” Chyna cried. “I’m not showing anyone else.”

“Ugh,” Brigitte muttered. “At least tell us if he’s good or not.”

“He’s better than good,” Chyna finally relented.

“Natasha told me he was kind of kinky,” Ravenna said, straightening and eyeing Chyna more closely.

Natasha? Chyna didn’t know a Natasha. They had worked with more than two dozen other girls this summer, but Natasha didn’t sound familiar. “Who?”

“She was selected as Marco’s centerpiece two years ago,” Ravenna told her. “I was a favorite, but Natasha was selected before me. I’m not really sure why. She wasn’t all that spectacular.”

Chyna had never thought about whether or not this had happened with another girl before. To be perfectly honest, she hadn’t cared whether or not he had been sleeping with other models while they had been together, let alone whom he had slept with before her. She was still getting the personal attention, and as. As long as she was still getting what she wanted—the modeling and the man—then she didn’t care if he diddled half of Milan. He still came back to her either way, so it hadn’t mattered. But, she was curious about this Natasha character.