Strut the Mall (Love at Westbrook Mall #4)

41. Real

41

Real

I reached for Zack without thinking.

He wrapped his arms around my waist and hoisted me into the air.

I shrieked again, this time with glee, as his warmth radiated around me. I popped my feet in excitement and squeezed him tighter. This was game-changing. I’d finally hit influencer status. A big brand wanted to hire me. Maybe as a stylist more than a model, but still, someone wanted me . My mind, my ideas, my body and brand were worth soliciting beyond a feet kink.

“Congratulations, Nic,” he said.

“Thank you. I can’t believe this is happening.” I hopped to the floor and launched into the whole story. I’d never talked so fast in my life. He probably had no idea what brand or video I was referencing. This kind of stuff didn’t mean anything to him, but it was everything to me.

Well, almost everything.

I stopped talking and finally registered that I’d never let go of him. His steady heartbeat throbbed under my fingertips. The heat of his hands seeped into my waist as he kneaded reassurance into my body. I prodded the damp spots streaking his uniform. “Sorry I got you all wet.”

“It was worth it,” he said softly.

God, standing here in nothing but a towel while he held me close brought all these fuzzy feelings rushing back. I needed to invest in a warming rack so I wouldn’t have to rely on him for this. Unfortunately, I had a feeling it’d be a pale imitation of the real thing.

And I wanted something real. With him.

I pinned the towel up by tightening my arms to my side. “I guess I should thank you for helping me find my brand.”

“You didn’t need me to get you there,” he said. “It’s all you. It’s always been you. You’re amazing, Nic. You’re worth it, and I’m glad to see you celebrating that.”

I bit my lip. Did he believe that or was he teasing my newfound motto? I hadn’t told him about the catchphrase I’d put on the end of my video. “Were you watching my stuff?”

He loosened his grip on my waist and glanced away, his neck blooming pink. “I…may have.”

“You don’t even have an account.”

“It’s public access. I didn’t have our daily texts, so this was the next best way to check in.”

He missed me, then. And I missed him.

Ugh, why did he have to be such an idiot about my side job?

I stepped back and crossed my arms. “I’m not going to stop the foot stuff after one paying gig.”

“I know.” He rubbed his ear. “Your laptop was open, though, and it seems like you’re looking at other long-term jobs.”

“That’s to replace Fancee’s.” Ah, shit. I didn’t mean to blurt it out like that. “Excuse me,” I said. I squeezed into the narrow opening between him and the door frame, but my boobs bumped into his bulky biceps. I couldn’t get through.

“Wait, you’re leaving Fancee’s? I thought you needed health insurance,” he said.

“I’ll buy the government package and take some vitamins,” I huffed, wiggling to get through.

“Don’t leave your job because of me,” he insisted, backing up.

The sudden lack of obstruction meant I went flying through the doorway. He caught my arm so I didn’t land on my face.

Heart racing, I yanked myself free. “You asked me to leave foot modeling.”

He held up his hands. “I asked if you would leave. That’s not the same thing.”

“It wasn’t a hypothetical situation, Zack. It was half a threat. You can’t date someone who does that. You can’t bring them home to your family. So, what? You want me to stay at my job so we can keep eye-fucking in the stacks?”

“Nic…” He rubbed his neck and glanced away.

“No, I get it. I have a great aesthetic. Lots of guys want to mess around without wife-ing someone up. Especially when it comes to sex workers.” I shimmied in my towel dress. A vain little part of me relished the fact that he glanced at my chest and blushed despite his best efforts to be a gentleman.

“I’m sorry for all that," he said. "Yeah, you’re hot, but I do like you as a person. You're confident, ambitious, and I don't know, you have a spark about you.”

Sure, a 'spark.' Any guy in his position would’ve sworn I mattered in the hopes I'd open my legs. I rolled my eyes and headed toward the kitchen. “You don’t need to say nice things because you feel guilty for hurting my feelings. Besides, you aren’t the only reason I’m quitting.”

He drew his shoulders up to his ears, nodded, then looked down. “You deserve better.”

Was he talking about us or my career?

I sighed and pushed my hair back. “I don’t want to waste my time getting bossed around by an alcoholic and mooned by someone older than my mom for the sake of health insurance I can get elsewhere. Shoe sales is not exactly a resume builder. I just get stuff. And I have enough stuff. I want…more.”

He furrowed his brow. “More?”

Okay, was I talking about our relationship? I waved the question away and tried to get back on track.

“I want something that can evolve. I want respect. And I’m not gonna get it answering some fucking bell on the regular. I’m a knowledgeable salesperson and a great fucking stylist. I can sell my time somewhere that’ll pay better, appreciate my skills, or help me grow as a person.”

Ugh, I couldn’t believe I said I wanted to ‘grow as a person.’ A few dates with Zack and I was talking like I was in an after-school special. I rubbed my forehead. This whole thing was going to give me wrinkles. So would time, I guessed. Hopefully, by then, my heart would let go of the quarterback.

“I do respect you,” he said.

“Just not what I do.” I scuffed my bare feet on the tile and sighed. “Whatever. I have a video to shoot.”

He glanced down. “Yeah, you do.” A flush spread across his neck.

I rolled my eyes. “I already told you, it’s not that kind of shoot.”

“I know. But you’ll do that stuff soon,” he said.

My shoulders tensed in a shrug. So what? I wasn’t doing it in front of him. We weren’t together. It was literally my business, not his.

He rubbed his ear. “I feel like I reacted badly when you told me about your…side gig. But it wasn’t because of you. I’m not even sure it was about what you were doing.”

“Yeah, right,” I scoffed.

His gaze swept to the side. “I mean, it was the messaging more than the modeling that upset me.”

Oh, so he see it as modeling now? I crossed my arms.

“I think a lot of that reaction stemmed from my own insecurities,” he said.

I let out a disbelieving huff. “You’re hot, strong, and funny. You have an obscenely loving family. You have friends, a band, and you could’ve had a loyal, hard-working girlfriend, but you were worried about my clients?”

He tugged his ear. “I think it’s natural to worry about your girlfriend talking to guys on the internet, especially ones who’ll spend money on her. Those clients might want more than pics, and they might offer you more than I can, at least materially.”

“You think I’d want a sugar daddy?” I stifled a laugh. Even on the websites that advertised clients just wanting dates and conversations, it was pretty clear from subtext that naked hot tub time was encouraged. “After what I went through with Theo, you can be sure I’ll never be anyone’s ‘baby’ again.”

He squared up to me. “Right. You’re independent. Your clients aren’t a threat to…anyone you’d want to share your life with.”

Anyone like him.

I swallowed hard and tightened my towel around my breasts, my pulse hammering in my ears. “I spent a long time trying to figure out my brand. Modeling made sense to me. It’s been hard connecting to anyone, let alone an audience, since I was a kid. Lenses and screens kept me at an easy distance. Everybody judged everybody. I thought I wanted to be the woman every girl wanted to be—or at least the one people wanted to be with. But no one really liked me , the real me. They didn’t even know me.” I chuckled through the sting of harsh reality. “I’m not sure I let myself like anyone until you and your family opened up to me. But because of my job, you rejected me.”

He frowned and stepped closer. “I accept you. I like you.”

“You accept parts of me.” My body. The weird parts I wouldn’t have shown publicly.

He squeezed my shoulder, his calloused hands warm. “Nyx, Nikki, or Nic… Whoever you intend to be, I want to know you. So, will you show me?”

Water slid down my thighs and dropped to the floor with a quiet splat.

I wanted to show him everything.