Inspire (The Muse #1)(34)
Author: Cora Carmack

I shove my fists into my pockets, and follow her. She stops at a small, dark sedan. It’s nice, but not too nice either. A recent model, but nothing too expensive. It’s carefully inconspicuous, and wouldn’t stand out on campus or downtown or even in this rougher part of town. That reminds me of my earlier worries, and before I can remember that I’m angry, I ask, “How often do you come here to Lennox’s?”

She shrugs. “I told you that I haven’t known her long. So just a few times. Mostly, I meet her at the store when she’s not busy or at the studio they have on campus for people in her department.”

“Good. You shouldn’t be in this neighborhood alone.”

“You know, I’m not as vulnerable as you think I am.”

“Well, if your alcohol tolerance is any indication, maybe you’re right. How often do you drink to get to that point?”

“Now you’re mad at me for drinking?”

No. Yes. Damn it.

She continues, “I’m not some naïve sorority girl. I’ve been through a lot on my own, and I’ve come out just fine.”

“Yeah, I can tell how much you like being on your own.”

I’m being a dick, and I hate myself for it, but I just can’t shut my mouth off.

She tugs her car door open a little forcefully and climbs in without another word. I hesitate, wondering if this is a bad idea after all. But Mom is waiting, so I pull open my door and slide in, too.

I tell her where to go, but other than that the cab is quiet and stiff as she heads back to the highway. I tell her to head north and what exit to watch for, and then we settle into silence.

She’s tapping her finger on the steering wheel, and again, it’s almost the right beat. I don’t know whether I want to yell at her to stop or show her how to beat out the actual rhythm. I lean my head back against the seat, and try to just shut everything out.

And almost like she knows it, she wedges open the door that I’m trying to close. “I’m sorry I stopped to talk to Jack. It didn’t mean anything. I can’t explain it, but it was important that I … talk to him. But I’m here now. Here with you.”

With my eyes still closed, I mutter, “For now anyway.”

PART THREE

“Love is composed of single soul inhabiting two bodies.”

Aristotle

Chapter Fifteen

Kalli

His anger shouldn’t sting so much. In fact, I should embrace it. Angry Wilder is much better than charming Wilder or sexy Wilder or sweet Wilder. Because all of those versions of him are incredibly hard to resist.

And I’m supposed to resist him, right? I have to.

Except that I’d gone to talk to Jack about his new project so that I could push a little inspiration into him to take the edge off in case something happened with Wilder. In case my impulsive decision to give him a ride home turned into something else impulsive. Though I doubt I can still call it that when I’ve planned ahead.

That now appears to be a non-issue. He’s furious. And I don’t blame him. I know I’m not being fair. Fair would have been me sticking to my original plan and never seeing him again after that night at his place. Or better yet, never going home with him in the first place. But then he’d shown up at the store, and then again tonight, and a little voice whispered in the back of my mind, “Why not?”

After everything with Van, I couldn’t bring myself to just find another guy. I tried with Jack, but every time he showed the slightest romantic interest in me, I panicked. What if he ended up like Van? What if I broke him too?

So when he’d introduced me to Lennox, and she’d immediately begun to integrate me into their group of friends, I’d decided to try something different. By spreading out my ability between Jack and Lennox and Mick and all the rest, I could stay longer. I could move slower. Usually, depending on the artist, I can go anywhere from three to nine months with someone one-on-one. But like this … the possibilities are greater than I’ll ever let myself say out loud.

That doesn’t stop me from getting my hopes up though.

Which is why I currently have a death grip on my steering wheel while I attempt to ignore the near painful pull toward the man sitting in the car beside me. Because the moment I realized what my friendship with this group meant, I thought of Wilder. I thought of what this kind of longevity could mean where he was concerned. Not only could I stay here in Austin longer, but with so many friends, I’d be unlikely to ever cut it as close as I did with Van. And since there wouldn’t be any more break-ups like the past, there’s even a possibility for expansion. There were two girls tonight from Lennox’s program that I’ve not met before. Jack has a few painter friends. There’s a welder that does metal work with Mick sometimes. If my circle became big enough …

There are tears in my eyes, and I’m struggling to breathe through the excitement and fear and anticipation when Wilder says, “You need to get over or you’re going to miss the exit.”

And just like that … I’m shot back down to Earth.

I turn my blinker on, and let him direct me through the next few turns until we end up in a residential neighborhood. The truth is … I don’t know the first thing about being in a real relationship. Every guy I’ve ever dated (if you can even call it that) came with an expiration date. They were a job. That’s how I had to think of them to keep from getting attached or feeling guilty or letting it all go to my head. Fact is … there are teenagers out there with more experience living and loving than me.

And that might be the most depressing thought I’ve had in ages (literally … ages).

I clear my throat. “So … what did you think of everyone?”

Wilder’s eyes flick to me briefly, but he still doesn’t turn to face me. “I like Lennox.”

“Because she’s on your side?”

He does look at me then, but it’s a look so dark and filled with frustration that it cracks something in me. I’m not sure I’ve ever been given a look quite like that before. Even the artists who grew to hate me after I ended things had looked at me with a obsessive passion that didn’t know whether it was hate or love and tended to hover somewhere in between.

Wilder doesn’t look at me with hate, per say. But he very clearly wants to be done with me. There is anger and annoyance and possibly a little hurt in that look. But he isn’t addicted to my energy the way men have been in my past. And perhaps without my ability, I’m not quite as desirable as I’ve always believed.