Exposed to You (Overexposed) Read online

  I nodded, biting my lip. The pessimistic side of me was worried he had only bought it to keep tabs on me, while the optimistic side wanted to believe that he had just seen a chance to buy me a gift I needed and had taken it. It was obvious from his reaction watching me open it, and the enthusiastic way he told me about all the new features, that he was excited to give it to me. Dallon King was one of those generous people that honestly enjoyed buying presents for other people.

  He stopped talking and looked at me with concern. “You’re not going to accept it, are you?”

  “No, no, what makes you think that?” I rushed to assure him, even though it was exactly what I had been considering doing. “I just don’t want you to keep spending a lot of money on me, okay?”

  Dallon sighed and sat down beside me on the stool again. “I told you, this is how I show I care. Not with words, but by actions. If you take that away from me...” He shrugged. “I’m not good at expressing some things in words. My family doesn’t talk about our feelings, and I never heard my father say how he felt about my mother.”

  I frowned. “He never said he loved her?”

  “Not that I heard. Then again, she took off when I was quite young.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Thank you.” He paused. “What is it?”

  “Well, it just seems like you want to talk about us a lot. So I’m... surprised.”

  He laughed. “I am too. Seems I’m changing a lot of my rules for you”

  I smiled and looked down at my brand new iPhone. I turned it on and went through the setup process, and then Dallon connected it to his WiFi. I hadn’t realized how much I’d missed checking my emails. I had a few from my mom growing more and more worried. In the last one, she said she was going to call me on Sunday and that she hoped I was all right. There were also two from Dallon, the first one a short “how are things going” email, and the second inquiring about my new place and whether or not I’d like to grab dinner.

  “Just got your emails,” I said sheepishly.

  He laughed and winked. “No more excuses.”

  “What’s my number? I’d better send it to my mom before she wigs out too.”

  “Careful now.” Dallon gave me a warning look. “I have it in my phone—I’ll text it to you.”

  He pulled his iPhone out of his pocket and in a few seconds, my phone buzzed with his text. Dallon leaned over and pushed the Add Contact button, and I typed his first name in.

  Suddenly his phone started ringing. He glanced at the screen and sighed. “It’s work. I’m going to go take this in the study, you play with your new toy,” he flashed me a grin before walking out of the living room and down the hall.

  Like a little boy, I mused, shaking my head and grinning too. I carried the plates into the kitchen and rinsed them off before putting them in the dishwasher. Then I returned to the living room and stood there for a moment, unsure. It felt strange to be alone in his place. There was so much space.

  Finally, I made my way to the couch—pushing aside the memories of last night—and opened my email to respond to my mom. In my first email, I told her I had a new number and copied the number Dallon had texted me into an email. I sent that and started writing a longer email letting her know that I had been working at a café while I figured things out. I had to come clean some time, and it was better she found out before our phone call.

  As I typed the email, worrying about how she would react to the news of my lowly position, I realized that if I gave in to what Dallon wanted, in less than a week I wouldn’t have any job, café or not. What would my mother think then? She’d told me that if I wanted to be an artist, I should work as a lawyer and pursue my art on the side, but all I’d thought about was the long hours. If only I’d gotten a different, useful degree and followed the rest of her plan.

  I opened up safari and went to indeed.com, entered “Office Assistant”. It was time to give up on the idea I could actually make a living as an artist and focus on finding something practical with some room for growth. My eyes widened with excitement as the page populated with various administrative positions.

  “What are you doing?”

  I looked up, surprised to see Dallon standing beside me. He’d moved so quietly. “I found a bunch of office assistant positions.”

  He sat down on the arm of the couch and cocked his head to the side. “Alternatives to working at Mix?”

  “I hope so. If I can get one, that is.”

  “Hmm.” He sprawled beside me, putting his bare feet up on the coffee table.

  “I’ve been stressing out writing an email to my mom about how I’ve been working at a café,” I continued, trying not to look at him. He was very distracting.

  Dallon raised an eyebrow. “Your mom? How old are you, Amy?”

  I looked down, hiding a smile. “Twenty-two…”

  He chuckled. “Time to get over the fear of your mom, no?”

  “It’s not about that! It’s about her expectations of me.” When he didn’t react like he understood, I added, “They’re the same expectations I have for myself.”

  “Okay, let’s hear them.” He rolled to face me, placing his elbow on the back of the couch and resting his head in his hand, and I moved over, putting some needed space between us.

  “See, my parents are together now, but when I was little, my father left my mom and I for six years.”

  Dallon reached out to take my hand, and I quickly continued. “I don’t want to get into the details of it, but it was just my mom and I for a while. He wasn’t able to help us monetarily, so it was my mom’s career as a journalist that put food on the table, not to mention what kept her going mentally. When my father returned, he tried as hard as possible to make it up to both of us, but even though Mom forgave him and accepted him back, she never really forgot what it was like during that time when we no longer had his support, and neither did I. Anything can happen in life, and after that, my mom tried to teach me the importance of taking care of myself.”

  And so far, I was doing a rather bad job.

  Dallon nodded thoughtfully. “So that is why you don’t want to be dependent on me.”

  I nodded.

  “I see.” He looked around as if taking in his penthouse and all the available luxuries he could share with me if only I were to let him. “Your story explains a great deal, especially the part about your father abandoning you.”

  “It wasn’t… quite like that.” I tucked my legs under me and waited for him to continue that thought, but he didn’t. Instead, he slapped his legs and stood up.

  “I’ll grab a laptop. We’ll put together a resume for you and send out applications today.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  It took almost three hours to put together a resume for me and send out all the applications. Dallon and I argued about what address to enter in my contact information; he insisted that I used his address, and I wanted to use my current one. In the end he won only because I didn’t plan to stay in my hole forever.

  Around 3p.m., I went into Dallon’s bedroom to call Mix and tell them I was no longer interested in the job. The application process had taken most of the afternoon and the last thing I wanted to do was go to work at a loud, skeevy bar. Even though I apologized, the assistant manager got angry before calling me names and demanding that I pay for the uniform. Dallon walked into the room in the midst of me sputtering that I’d never agreed to buy it, grabbed the phone out of my hands, and told them to shove it before hanging up.

  “You don’t have to save me,” I said when he passed the phone back to me.

  He smirked. “But I’m so good at it.”

  Turning, he yanked off his shirt and padded into his bathroom in only his pajamas, and I was left gawking at his back. If it looked that good, I couldn’t imagine how the rest of him looked.

  A second later, I heard the shower running.

  I carried my pile of clothes over to the bed to get dressed. I had just pulled on my pants when the phone sta
rted ringing. It was my mom. Guess she couldn’t wait until Sunday. I quickly finishing clasping my bra and picked up the phone just before it went to voicemail and incited another freakout.

  “Hey, Mom.”

  “Amy! I just got your email. Why haven’t you been answering?”

  “I had a problem with my phone. This is my new one.”

  “Yes, I got that. I’ve been worried about you.” She waited for me to apologize before continuing, “So what’s this about you working at a café?”

  I sighed and sat down on Dallon’s bed, leaned up against the headboard. “Yes while I’ve been searching for a job.”

  “Have you had any leads?” Her voice sounded hopeful and for some reason, it made me feel less hopeful.

  “I applied for a whole bunch today, so I’ll let you know.”

  “What types of positions?”

  “Office positions. Admin stuff.”

  “Mm hmm. Well, I hope it works out for you. I heard you moved into a new place?”

  I didn’t have to ask how she knew; she and Sam’s mom were tight. “Yep, first place of my own.”

  “Do you like it?”

  I laughed awkwardly. “It’s okay. Again, it’s temporary.”

  Now Mom sighed loudly. I was wondering how long it would take.

  “Honey, why don’t you just come home? Do you really need to stay there now that school is finished? It’s so expensive in New York.”

  I took a deep breath before responding, trying not to say something I’d regret. We’d had this conversation a million times and she never really seemed to get it. “There are more opportunities in New York and I like it here. It’s an amazing city.”

  I heard the shower stop and rushed to end the conversation. “Try to relax, Mom. Things will work out.”

  “I worry about you; you’re my only baby.”

  “I know. Listen Mom, I’ve got to go.”

  “Don’t you want to speak to your dad?”

  Dallon appeared at the door leading into the bedroom, clad in only a small towel which was wrapped around his waist. He put his hands on his hips and raised his eyebrows up and down playfully. “Hey, baby.”

  “Sorry, I’ve got to go,” I whispered and hung up.

  Dallon grinned and stalked toward me. I sat frozen, unable to move as he made his way across the room, climbed onto the bed and took my face in his hands, kissing me deeply. I leaned back on the pillows and he climbed on top of me, his right hand moving to cup my breast over my bra, his thumb gently circling the nipple. The small contact through clothing sent shivers through my body. It was crazy how little he had to touch me to turn me on. Then he was kissing my neck and moving down to my chest. His right hand moved to my head and he grasped my hair in his fist, holding it tight, his kisses moving further down my body, past my navel…

  His head jerked up. “We should go out. Drinks and dinner. Otherwise I’m going to want to do more with you.” His eyes darkened and there was a quality to him I hadn’t seen before. He seemed… harder.

  I nodded quickly. I wasn’t ready to go that far. Not yet.

  “We’ll stop at your place first and you can change.”

  I nodded again, still unable to speak.

  He stood up and adjusted his towel. As he entered the closet, he let it fall to the floor just before turning the corner.

  ***

  We rode the elevator to the underground parking, heated silence between us. I’d felt something in Dallon’s bedroom, something intense and… dark. The way he’d grabbed my hair, that look in his eyes when he sat up… I couldn’t explain it. It felt like fear and excitement mixing together, and it was intoxicating.

  When the elevator opened, Dallon grabbed my hand and pulled me out, walking briskly so that I had to half-jog to keep up.

  “Where’s your driver?”

  “Arnold is on vacation this week. He has a life too, you know.”

  “Pity. I feel so bad for you.”

  “Don’t. I enjoy driving.” He flashed me a smile before pushing a button on his keychain. A sleek, black car beeped, its lights turning on.

  “It’s nice,” I said because he was looking at me expectantly.

  “It’s nice? You’re calling a Bentley GTC nice?”

  “I don’t know much about cars,” I admitted. “I only recognized your Audi—Arnold’s car, I mean—because I like the connected rings. The logo or hood ornament or whatever.”

  He continued to stare at me incredulously, so I carried on nervously.

  “I really like it. It’s very… sleek.”

  Dallon sighed. Instead of walking to the driver’s side, he opened the passenger door for me to climb in first, like a gentleman.

  “Get in.” Not so gentlemanly.

  He reversed out of the stall quickly, his lips set in a thin line. It wasn’t until we were far away from his apartment and headed to Brooklyn that he seemed to relax.

  “Where would you like to go for dinner?”

  “It’s up to you; it’s your city. As long as I get a change of clothes, I’ll be happy.”

  “I haven’t been to Brooklyn in a while.”

  I laughed softly. “You’re not missing much.”

  “I’m really glad you didn’t go to Mix,” he said softly and smiled at me. “I would worry about you if you worked there. Your manager was an ass. He rivaled me,” he added with a wink.

  I laughed. Dallon King was very comfortable with himself. “Do you need directions?”

  “I remember the address from the resume discussion.”

  He had turned serious again, and I wasn’t sure why; if he was remembering our argument or he was displeased with my address. Most likely both. I sighed inwardly and leaned back in my seat, trying to relax. Driving in Dallon’s car was a much more enjoyable way of getting around than the subway, and I didn’t have to worry about his reaction to my place for at least ten more minutes.

  “Did you have a good talk with your mom?”

  “I told her that I applied for office positions today.”

  “I heard you telling her to relax. Did you tell her about us?”

  I glanced at Dallon. He was staring straight forward, giving nothing away.

  “No. She was worrying about…” I paused, considering whether or not to lie. “She doesn’t like that I live in Brooklyn and wants me to come home.”

  Dallon’s hands tightened on the wheel. “That’s not going to happen.”

  “I know, I told her I’m enjoying the city.”

  He smiled at me, one eyebrow raised. “The city?”

  I sank down in my seat. “The city. You. All of it.”

  He laughed and faced the road again.

  When it was time to show Dallon my building, I was beyond nervous. It had probably once been nice, but that was a long time ago. Now it looked in dire need of repair and, depending on the time of day and heat, smelled faintly of piss. There were multiple locks on the front door and I had keys to all of them. Dallon stood there and watched me struggle with each lock. By the time we’d walked the steps to the third floor, I was so shaky that I dropped the keys outside my door. Then when I’d finally inserted my key into the lock, the door wouldn’t budge, and Dallon had to shove his shoulder against it until it swung open and hit the wall, sagging on its hinges.

  It certainly wasn’t the introduction I’d been hoping for. I stood in the hallway, fingering my keys, and watched as Dallon stepped in. I didn’t want to follow him at first, lest I take up more room in the small space.

  He stood in the middle of the room and looked around him silently, hands on hips.

  I waited, my right leg tapping impatiently. What was he thinking? Why wasn’t he saying anything? When I couldn’t stand the silence any longer, I blurted out, “Well? Are you going to tell me you hate it?”

  He spun around to face me, disapproval etching his features. “I was admiring your artwork, Amy. You’re very talented.”

  “Oh. Thank you.”

  I shifte
d, embarrassed, and then walked over to my dresser to pull out some clothes. Dallon approached one of my acrylic paintings, an abstract piece, and tilted his head to the side as he studied it.

  “I’m just going to change in the bathroom.”

  He made a noise like he only half heard me. He had moved on to my next piece.

  My place really was disappointing compared to his. The bathroom was super tiny, and I bonked my elbows multiple times while changing. When I emerged, freshly changed in a light sundress and sandals, he was looking at a collage of photographs I’d made as part of my final portfolio. They were pictures of me over the years.

  “I wanted to cover all the walls, so I put up almost everything,” I explained.

  “I love it,” he whispered.

  “It was requirement of my final project for my degree.”

  “Don’t be embarrassed. I like seeing them all… It’s a snapshot of your life.”

  There was an amused cough and we turned to see Simon Jenks, my asshole neighbor, standing beside my broken door. He was wearing his usual backwards baseball cap and dirty coveralls and, as usual, he was half cut.

  I rolled my eyes. Of all the things to happen today.

  “So you do have a boyfriend, and here I thought you were lying to me,” Simon slurred, leaning against my door jamb.

  Dallon crossed his arms. “Who are you and what do you want?”

  “Nothing, man.” Simon held up his hands in a mock defensive gesture, laughing softly to himself. It sounded like a mixture between a deranged snicker and a hiccup. “I was just saying your bitch isn’t a prude after all.”

  Dallon marched forward, but I grabbed the back of his shirt, momentarily distracting him. Then Simon was gone, his laughter cut off by his door slamming shut.

  Dallon turned on me. “What was that about?”

  “Nothing. Just my neighbor Simon.”

  He continued to glare at me. “He called you a prude. Did he try something?”

  I bit my lip. “No.”

  “The truth, Amy,” he said in a low voice.

  “He tried to make a move on me one night,” I admitted with a sigh. “He’s an idiot. A drunken idiot.”