The Wright Mistake(21)

But Patrick looked back at him like he was totally insane. As if he had never thought of Morgan as anything other than his own sister. In that moment, I felt a bad for her. The girl was on top of the world, and her crush didn’t even know that she wanted to be on top of him instead.

“Dude,” was all Patrick said before walking away with Morgan.

“Dear God, he is oblivious,” I muttered.

“Tell me about it.”

“Oh my God, did we just have a conversation without arguing?”

“You look fucking hot,” he said in response.

I rolled my eyes. Well, that was close. “You’re a pig.”

“Really? Because I think I just got you more time to look at all the art you’re dying to see. Otherwise, you would have been dragged away to see drunks singing Bon Jovi and Journey at the tops of their lungs. A simple thank you would suffice.”

I bit my lip to keep from snapping that he hadn’t done me a favor. Everything Austin did was self-motivated. I just didn’t know what his motivation was here.

“Fine,” I settled for instead.

“Fine,” he said, nudging me toward another exhibit.

“Let me tell Heidi and Emery first.”

I jogged over to the landscape exhibit and informed them as to what was going on. They did another one of their all-knowing looks and then told me to have a good time. It was not a date. It wasn’t. No matter what their sly grins said.

“This one is my favorite,” Austin admitted.

“This one has been here before?”

He shrugged. “Once or twice.”

I narrowed my eyes in his direction, wondering how this was going to be a trick, but still, I followed him anyway. It might be stupid. I still hadn’t figured out what the fuck he wanted from all of this. But my feet carried me up the few steps and into the next building.

But what I saw on the inside stopped me in my tracks.

This is Austin’s favorite? This is the one he wants to show me?

Did I even know him at all?

On all the walls in perfect little picture frames were children’s artwork. Unicorns and robots and horses and rainbows and a Technicolor burst of color from every frame. Under each piece of artwork was the child’s first name and age.

Katherine, seven.

Jimmy, twelve.

Aiden, four.

But what really got me, after I passed the first wall in awe of all the little boys and girls who had created something important to them, was the sign proclaiming where the art had come from. Not an elementary school, as I had expected.

“They’re foster kids?” I whispered, my eyes glazing over, as I turned to face Austin.

He nodded. “They’re supposed to draw something that inspires them. I hate that there are so many kids in Lubbock without a forever home, but I’m glad we have programs like this that help kids in need by getting donations from the local community.”

He dropped a few bills into the donation box at the front of the room and then continued to look at every single picture with perfect care.

This man. This man. My argumentative, drunken, narcissistic asshole. The one who caused me so much pain and anger and lust. The person who I’d thought I had completely figured out. He was the one who had just confided in me about this.

My heart melted.

Just a sliver, for him.





Nine



Austin


This was not how I’d thought the night would go.

Not at all.

I’d thought I’d be waist-deep in booze before the sun officially set, so I could happily forget the last week of my life. No matter that it was apparently the whole problem anyway.

And then there was Jules.

Standing there in tiny little cutoffs, her pale and perfect thighs revealed in all their fucking glory. Her All Time Low tank top straining at her chest and showing a slice of her stomach. She’d slid her red hair off to one shoulder. Her nose ring complemented her studded ears…and there were tattoos for days. There was nothing fucking sexier than a woman with ink. And I wanted nothing more than to trace every line on her curvy body.

But I knew that I probably shouldn’t want her.

I’d fucked up my first chance. We’d both fucked up.

Still, I was sitting next to her at Louie Louie’s, listening to the dueling pianos battle and trying not to stare at her. I wasn’t successful.

“What?” Julia asked, catching me for the third time since we’d sat down with our beers.

A girl who liked beer. Fuck me.

“Just you.”

“Me?”

I shrugged noncommittally. Yeah, she looked fucking hot. She had to fucking know it. She might think I’d been a pig earlier, but it was the truth.

“Can you two make out already or something?” Patrick joked, nudging Morgan. “Right?”