Time-Lapse by J.B. Heller

Chapter Thirty

We spentthe rest of yesterday afternoon in El’s office, going through the photos I’d collated on the USB stick for her. It was easy and comfortable. Being around her was natural.

I didn’t feel the need to push her for a commitment or anything more than what she’d said in the gallery. She was giving me a chance, and I wasn’t going to screw it up.

The only problem is, I don’t know how to change my outlook. How do you stop seeing yourself a certain way when it’s all you’ve ever known? It’s not fuckin’ easy. I’ve been trying to shake my demons for years, but they’re so deeply ingrained in me, I don’t think I can.

I’ve just finished putting in an order for about thirty prints with my online printer, and now I’m working on framing concepts that will fit with the hotel. I want the pieces to stand out, but I also want them to fit in.

El is booked back-to-back today with several events she’s overseeing over the next few weeks. She does everything, from the gallery to weddings. Her workload is ridiculous, and I don’t know how she gets through it all.

When I asked her about lunch, she told me she was working through and was having hers delivered, so she wouldn’t be able to see me at all today. I’m not going to lie; I was disappointed. But I have a plan.

I just have to keep myself busy until dinnertime. Then, being the romantic bastard that I am, I’m going to drag her out of her office and make her eat with me.

In an effort to keep my mind on the job, I pull up good old Google on my laptop and start fooling around with different concepts for the lobby. The frame that The One, The Only is currently in isn’t going to work when it’s moved out. But then it hits me. I know exactly how I’m going to display it, and the print in the gallery isn’t going to be nearly big enough.

I quickly shoot Bee an email, asking her to organize four fifteen-by-ten-foot prints of The One, The Only. She’ll probably think I’ve gone crazy, but she’ll do it. She’s never let me down.

Arranging standard print sizes is easy and something I can do with a few clicks on my laptop, but I feel better about having Bee sort the larger projects. She goes through all the finer details with the printers to make sure I’m getting quality prints.

By the time that’s all done, it’s almost six, and I haven’t heard from El all day. The nervous teenage boy in me is freaking out that she’s changed her mind, but the rational part of my brain tells him to chill the fuck out.

I shower quickly and throw on an old band tee, a pair of black shorts, and my Converse. I look in the mirror before leaving the main bedroom, run my hand through my wet hair a few times until it looks like it’s slightly tamed, then head for the door.

When I arrive at El’s office, the door is open but only just, like someone went to shut it but it didn’t quite click closed. I reach forward to knock, but I hear a male voice speak up, and I freeze.

“You’re not seriously considering this, Liza. Have you forgotten what happened last time he left? I sure as hell haven’t. I’m the one who nearly failed my college midterms because I was so worried about the sudden depression you’d fallen into. And what? He comes back, says he’s sorry, and you throw yourself at him again?”

The guy sounds pissed, and I’m about to shove the door open when I hear her reply, “Stop, Ben. I’m not a silly little girl anymore, and I can take care of myself. I haven’t forgotten a damn thing, okay, so back the hell off.”

He scoffs. “Really? And what makes this time any different?”

“I love him, Ben. I always have. All I can do is hope that things are different this time.” She sounds defeated, and I can’t keep listening to him berate her because of me.

Pushing the door open, I say, “Ready for dinner?” and look directly at El, completely ignoring her brother.

But he steps in my line of sight and glares at me. “Fucking her over the first time wasn’t enough for you, so you’ve come back to do it again?”

My fists clench by my sides, but I remind myself that he’s just protecting her, and I deserve his rage. I clear my throat and hold my hand out to him. “Sorry, we haven’t met. I’m Hux, and I’m in love with your sister. Yeah, I fucked up once, but I don’t plan on doing it again.”

Eliza gasps at my statement. But surely this isn’t news to her? I’ve been pretty clear about wanting her back. Why else would I want that if I didn’t still love her?

Ben is staring at my outstretched hand like it’s covered with a venereal disease. “It’s going to take more than words to convince me. You make one wrong move … you make her cry, for any goddamn reason, and I. Will. End. You.”

I have no doubt his threat is real. The look in his eyes says it all. And I’m stupidly happy that Eliza has someone like him in her life. Dropping my hand, I nod. “Okay, I can live with that.”

He scowls then turns his focus back to El. “I’ll see you tomorrow,” he says, then he walks out the door, slamming it behind him.

“So, when do I meet the rest of your family?” I joke.

Eliza collapses into the plush chair behind her desk, releasing a deep breath. “That was intense,” she says.

I take a seat across from her. “You can say that again, but I deserved it. Don’t be angry with him. Not on my account.”

She watches me for a moment before speaking. “What are you doing here anyway?”

“Dinner?”

She frowns. “Did we have plans?”

Shaking my head, I smile. “No, I just wanted to see you. Figured we both need to eat, so …”

Shuffling back in her chair, she gets comfortable. “I’m so tired, Hux. I’ve had a huge day. Can we skip dinner? All I want is to go to bed.”

I look at my watch. “It’s not even seven yet. What time did you start this morning?”

She shrugs. “Umm, I don’t know, probably seven? I had paperwork to log before my first appointment at nine. I’ve been on my feet all afternoon, showing potential clients around the different event spaces we offer, running them through packages, and blah, blah, blah,” she says with a dismissive wave of her hand.

I narrow my eyes on her. “Why do you work yourself so hard? That’s a twelve-hour day, El.”

Again with a shrug, she says, “I like being busy. Keeps my mind occupied.”

And I know exactly what she means without her having to say it, because it’s what I do. Work until I drop so I don’t have to think about how miserable I am without her.

Standing, I drop my satchel on the seat I just vacated and walk around her desk, coming to a stop behind her. She looks at me above her as I place my hands on her tense shoulders. “Jesus, El, you’re so tight,” I mutter as I start working the knots in her muscles in a circular motion with my thumbs. She snickers, and I bite. “What’s so funny?”

“You. You say dirty things, and you don’t even realize it.” She laughs softly.

I can feel the tension slowly releasing from her shoulders. “It wasn’t meant to be a dirty comment. You just have a dirty mind.”

“Meh, maybe,” she mumbles as she closes her eyes.

She looks like she could fall asleep right here. “How about I get you back to your room and we order room service?”

Opening one eye, she mutters, “Okay, but don’t think you’re getting lucky on account of my dirty mind. The tightness in my shoulders is the only tightness you’ll be feeling tonight.”

I choke on my laughter. The things that come out of this girl’s mouth—I fucking love it. “Fine.” I sigh dramatically then hold my hand out for her to take, helping her up from her chair.

* * *

Standing behindher while she opens the door to her suite, I can’t help but admire the new curves she’s acquired. She had a beautiful body when we were younger, but now, she’s really grown into herself. And she’s stunning.

I’m staring at her fine ass when she steps inside and turns to see if I’m following.

“You alright there?” she teases with a knowing grin.

I shake my head. “Yeah, it’s just the first time I’ve really looked at you. I didn’t think you could get any more perfect, yet I stand corrected.”

She blushes but rolls her eyes. “You’re only saying that to get in my pants,” she says over her shoulder as she makes her way down the short hallway to her room.

Her suite is laid out the same as mine, so I make myself comfortable on the couch then call out, “You wish you had lines like mine.”

I can hear her laughing in her room as she changes her clothes, and I can’t help but imagine her peeling the layers of formal businesswoman attire off her delectable body.

My dick starts to perk up with that train of thought, and I have to rearrange it before she comes back out. She walks in as I finish maneuvering it and smirks. “Really?” She eyes the hand that was adjusting my junk. “What were you just doing?”

I’m too busy taking her in to answer her question. She’s put on a tiny pair of bed shorts and a tank. My eyes eat up every inch of her smooth skin, and damn it, she’s not wearing a bra. “Fuck,” I mutter under my breath.

“Uh, Hux, eyes are up here,” she says.

It takes a ridiculous amount of willpower to shift my gaze from her gorgeous breasts to her face. She’s wearing a devious smile, and I realize too late that this is a set-up. I glare at her. “What are you wearing?”

A look of pure innocence covers her pretty face, and you would swear butter wouldn’t melt in her dirty little mouth. “My pajamas. Is that a problem?” She grins.

I don’t even bother trying to be discreet when I rearrange my junk this time. “No, no problem at all—unless you have a problem with me sitting here packing wood for the rest of the night.”

She’s trying to kill me, I swear, because the little minx actually sits down on the couch beside me—like, right beside me—then rests her head on my shoulder. “I don’t mind. I mean, you might get a little uncomfortable, but I’m okay with it.”

Of course she is. Fucking perfect. She’s snuggled into my side, all soft curves and lush tits, and I can’t fucking touch them. “Is there a reason you’re torturing me right now?” I ask.

She shrugs, which just smooshes her tits together more. “Payback.”

I’ve taken to staring at the ceiling because looking at her isn’t helping the situation in my pants. But I chance a glance at her when she says that. “For what?”

She lifts her eyes to mine and says, “I had the worst case of blue bean ever when we were together. Weeks, Hux. You made me wait for weeks, all while driving me crazy with your kisses and wandering hands but never touching me with what I needed most. So yeah, this is payback.”

My forehead furrows. “Blue bean?”

“Lady blue balls,” she murmurs on a yawn.

I drop my head back against the couch, close my eyes, and mutter, “Well, shit.”