Page 33 of New Girl in the City
“Spill?” he asked, eyebrows going up, and I nodded.
“Yeah, spill. What is it that you aren’t telling me?”
He was silent until we came to a stop at a red light. He sighed before turning to look at me over the back seat. “Just that guys that show at this gallery, some dumb ass place in the village, are next level shit heads.”
“Wow, that’s a very broad stroke.”
“And a true one.” He turned back to the road and drummed his fingers on the steering wheel. “I don’t make the rules, Mel. If you're hell bent on dating one of these jerk offs you need to know what to expect when you get in there. There’s going to be cheap wine being passed off as something else, in those shitty little plastic clear cups, some luke-fucking-warm cheese and meat. Maybe some shrimp and a crappy ice sculpture to show you he pays attention to detail, with some bass string going in the corner. I’ve seen it before, it’s all the same. He's gonna spit the same lines and try and convince you he’s sensitive or some shit but he’s not. He’s the same as the rest of them.”
“And what’s that?”
“A dog.”
My eyes went wide, and I laughed at the sudden answer. “A dog? What the hell?”
“Look, all I’m saying is men are men. And men who try too hard to impress a beautiful woman? Well, those are dogs. Same the world over, no matter if it’s a gallery or a back alley. Or a gym.”
My mind went to Brad. “You talking about that jerk off we met at the gym the other day?”
“Yeah, he’s one among the pack. That guy is shit, same as any you might go on a date with including this ‘artist’,” he said making air quotes.
“Well, shit.” I wanted to argue some, to push back at what he was saying but all I could think of was Martin, and the intern. It didn’t matter where they worked, or what they wore. Hell, even the man from the day before had looked like he belonged in the upper echelon of the city, and he'd been disgusting.
Maybe Liam had a point.
“Well, I was excited to go on this date, but I don’t know anymore,” I confessed, looking out the window with a frown.
“Date shouldn’t be about him. Should be about you.”
My eyes snapped from the road to him and I sat up in surprise. He’d said what Claudia had. I hadn’t expected that.
“Sorry?”
“Date should be about you having fun, and whoever else gets to be there is lucky,” he explained, raising his eyes to mine in the rearview mirror. “You just go and have fun. Text me when you’re ready to cut out and you can tell me about it.”
“Tell you about it?”
“Yeah, that’s what friends do right? Spill?”
I outright giggled at Liam’s words. He was catching on fast to the friend game.
“Yeah, okay. I can spill.”
He nodded and pulled up to the curb, looking out at the gallery with a look of outright distaste. “Yeah, fuck this place,” he said.
“You’re so judgy,” I replied, but when I looked out towards the gallery, I got what he meant. It looked like the quintessential artist’s refuge. There was just enough offbeat color and kitsch to the outside of the gallery, a popup display of furniture that I wasn’t sure was meant to be sat on. Then there was the way there was a lot of glass, glass and chrome and exposed brick with hanging Victorian chandeliers. The place was lit within an inch of its life and I could see stark pieces of artwork displayed within, with a crowd of trendy and eccentrically dressed people milling about. With the crappy plastic cups of wine Liam had described.
So, I understood his take on it, even if I didn’t agree that it was necessarily a bad thing. I moved to put a hand on the door, but Liam held up a hand to me and said, “Not so fast, Princess. Gotta let them know pure class is walking in.”
“What are—” I started but Liam was getting out of the car, but not in his usual let’s get this over with sort of pace. No, this was slower, easier. I bit my lip, watching as he buttoned up the waist of his jacket while walking around the car to my door. I knew he was attracting attention from the way he held himself. There was something to him that wasn’t up for grabs, something that told you he was there by his choice.
But not for you.
My cheeks flushed knowing he was there, in fact, for me. I watched along with the small crowd outside as Liam came closer. The man didn’t walk, he sauntered, as if he and I were there together. When he opened the door and held out a hand to me, I damned well wished that we were there together. Not only as driver and passenger.
“Thank you,” I murmured, taking his hand and sliding one foot out of the car, and then another before he guided me up onto the curb. When I stood, I was close to him, our feet brushing. I had to tip my head back to look up at him. He was smiling down at me, a flash of teeth and a wink that set my heart racing.
“You’re welcome, Mel.” His hand was still holding mine and he gave it a squeeze. I surprised myself when I didn’t let go but squeezed right back. He broke eye contact and looked down at where I was holding his hand.
