Page 20 of Exposed to You
Dallon marched over to my picture collage, pulled it off the wall.
“Hey!” I cried out in surprise. I didn’t really mind if he wanted to keep it, but asking would have been nice.
“What do you carry these in?” he asked, looking around. He found my portfolio case and opened it on the bed.
It was then that I realized what he was doing—he was packing me up.
“Wait,” I said, reaching out to touch his arm. “Dallon, I’m not moving in with you.”
He tensed under my touch. “You can’t stay here.”
I dropped my hand. “So you do hate it.”
“I don’t hate it. I couldn’t hate it; it’s covered in you. But I can’t let you continue living here. Your door is broken, who knows when your landlord will be able to fix it, and some asshole is lurking in the hallways.”
I felt myself tearing up, even though I knew it wasn’t personal, that he was only concerned about me. “I told you, it’s temporary. I can call Bran right now.”
I pulled out my phone, but Dallon continued taking down my art as if he hadn’t heard me.
“Stop!” Frustrated tears ran down my cheeks.
Dallon exhaled with frustration, but he held up his hands before turning around. With a tense jaw, he leaned against the wall, crossed his arms and waited.
“Don’t you see that I want to be equal to you?” I asked after a moment.
“How can you be equal to me, Amy? You’re seven years my junior. Stop comparing where you are now with me. New York is an expensive city and it’s hard to get a foothold. Even if you stay here instead of living with me, you won’t be living equally.”
“But I’ll have something that’s my own.”
He sighed and ran his hand through his hair. “There is no crime in letting someone else help you. If you could stop trying to control everything and relax, you might realize that.”
“You’re talking to me about control? This entire idea is based on your need for control!”
He narrowed his eyes. “I never said that. Not wanting you to work at Mix, yes. This is different.”
“Right. You didn’t even want to date me until I said I was going to work at Mix. You just wanted to have a say.”
He cocked his head to the side. “And why would I want to have a say exactly?”
“Because you’re controlling!”
“Because I care about you, Amy.”
I just glared at him until he shook his head and looked at the ceiling, hands balled into fists.
“Enough. I’m not going to continue discussing this with you. You’re coming home with me.” He turned and yanked my drawers out of the dresser. “Pack up.”
I didn’t move. “No.”
He straightened and gave me a look that sent shivers down my spine.
“This is ridiculous. He’s harmless!”
Suddenly Dallon was in front of me, looking down at me with blue eyes turned black. It looked like his pupils were completely dilated.
“I said pack, Amy. He might seem harmless to you, but I’m not waiting around to find out. I’m putting my foot down.”
I stared up at him, my chest rising and falling rapidly. Still, I didn’t move.
“You don’t want to anger me right now. Do you understand what I’m saying? Pack. Up.”
“What are you going to do, spank me again?” I whispered.
His eyes glinted for a moment. “It’s not a bad idea. But I could do worse; I could call your mom. Last number you received, right?”
My mouth fell open. I couldn’t believe he’d just used his present against me, and I’d had it less than a day! Furious, I stormed over to the closet and yanked out my suitcase. I began throwing clothes in, not caring if they got wrinkled or didn’t fit.
“Leave the artwork,” I snapped. “I’m only coming with you until I get the door fixed. In fact, I’ll call him right now and see how long it will take.”
I pulled out my iPhone and shot Dallon a smug smile, which he returned, crossing his arms.
“Hey Bran, it’s Amy—I live in 404? I just tried to get into my apartment and the door broke. Do you know when you can have it fixed?”
Before Bran could respond, the iPhone was snatched from my hand and Dallon began talking rapidly.
“Bran? Dallon King, Amy’s boyfriend.” I charged him but he put an arm out, holding me back. “Look she’s going to move out. We’ll pay next month’s rent, okay man?”
“Dallon!” I hissed. I wanted to yell but the idea of Bran hearing me in the background just made me more mortified. “Seriously, stop it. I’m not kidding.”
“I don’t if she signed a lease,” Dallon continued, looking me with narrowed eyes. “The living conditions are terrible and you know it. Her drunken neighbor just made some disgusting comments and she told me he’s harassed her—do you want a sexual assault case in your future?”
My blood ran cold at those two words. Here he was trying to protect me, and it was too late.
Having apparently received his desired response, Dallon hung up and held the phone out to me, smiling smugly.
“I don’t want it anymore,” I muttered, looking away. Angry tears blurred my vision. From the corner of my eye, I saw Dallon hesitate before slipping the phone into his pocket.
“Finish packing and I’ll come back for the bed,” he said softly. “For now, you can stay in my guest bedroom. Somehow I doubt you’ll want to stay with me.”
He was right about that.
I only had a total of two suitcases and my artwork, so it didn’t take long. Dallon picked up the suitcases and handed me my portfolio. I took it without meeting his eyes and followed him down the stairs to his car. We packed everything into his trunk in silence, and then Dallon went back up to get my paintings, which he very carefully and reverently arranged in the backseat. In my present state, the gesture just served to anger me more.
“I don’t want to go for dinner,” I said when we were driving out of Brooklyn.
He nodded almost imperceptibly, his eyes never leaving the road. I turned away from him, watching the world go by outside the car window and wondering if he’d planned this all along.
Dallon was right; he always got what he wanted.
Chapter Fourteen
“Do you want me to put these in the empty room? We can still make it your studio.” Dallon’s voice sounded hopeful, and my heart clenched slightly.
Don’t fall for it, I told myself. Feeling pity for him was probably part of his master plan.
“Just put them over there,” I said and pointed to a corner of the guestroom.
He carried them over and then leaned against the doorframe, hands in his pockets. “Are you hungry?”
“No.”
“I’m going to order takeout. I’ll order for you as well, and if you don’t come out, I’ll put it in the fridge.”
I didn’t respond, just continued unpacking my clothes. He leaned forward and gently placed my iPhone on top of the dresser. “You’re going to need this in case someone calls about your application.”
I hadn’t thought of that. Still, I made no move to acknowledge the gesture.
He cleared his throat. “I took down your landlord’s number and will make arrangements to pay your last month’s rent. It’s not fair you to pay it.”
Clenching my jaw, I looked away.
“I want you to be happy here,” he said softly before closing the door behind him.
When he was gone, I sat down on the bed and put my head in my hands. I knew I was being a bit of a jerk considering my door had broken. It was obvious that he cared about me, but I couldn’t shake the fear that he’d have me move in and eventually get bored with me, and I would be left shattered. Nothing about our relationship so far had been normal.
I picked up my new iPhone, wondering how Sam was doing and whether or not I should tell her about my new living arrangement. I decided against telling her; it wasn’t like she would stop by my old place for a visit and find o
ut. What my friends and family didn’t know couldn’t hurt them. Instead, I just sent her a text with my new number and told her my old phone had finally died. Then I finished putting my stuff away in the closet and dresser, changed into pajama pants and crawled under the covers of my new bed.
When I awoke, it was dark outside the window. I grappled around for my phone in the dark. Almost 8 p.m. I’d slept for a good two hours.
I was famished.
I rolled out of bed and turned on the light, rummaged through the closet and pulled on a long sleeved shirt. It was then that I wondered what Dallon was up to. Had he gone out after dinner?
Suddenly feeling a little anxious, I opened the door and walked to the railing that looked down into the living room and kitchen. I could see Dallon watching TV just the way I’d imagined him doing the week before, a fire in the fireplace and his long legs stretched out onto the coffee table in front of him.
I descended the staircase and entered the living room.
“I was wondering when you would emerge. Nice PJs,” he added, the side of his turning up.
I’d been fingering the pants tie and instantly let go.
“Do you have something to say?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.
“Do you?” I countered.