Trespassing

Trip's POV

"I thought we'd never get this done." I collapsed on the SUV's leather seating.

"Come on, bro, it wasn't that hard." My eyes glanced to Gabe's stretching form, arms strained back. "We just had to break into your Mom's office, replace Ava's file," he eyed the portfolio on his lap—I was quick to snatch it, throw it to the back. "And plant ours."

"We did a portfolio in a few hours, you think that's easy?" We had only a few hours to get a professional photographer and make-up artist, getting in-clothes was easier since I knew all those stylists.

"It would be harder if we didn't know the right people." Knowing people in high places was never a plus in my life, I didn't call in favors.

"What about the half hour we spent convincing your dancer-friend? I'm sure you think that was easy, too." Of course not everyone was okay with posing or modeling in any way, the fact Gabe's friend went along with it was covered with a very fat check. Not that my trust fund would be too shaken.

"It could've gone worse, she could have said no." That was a fact, because there were people who couldn't be bought.

I was driving through the streets of Manhattan, going to the Upper East Side to Gabe's home. I was dropping him off.

"There's a hundred percent chance this will work. Take a chill pill, Trip." He pushed my shoulder lightly. He was right. We swapped the files, when Ava showed up for the audition they wouldn't let her in—they shouldn't. They'd think she was lying about the call. Everything should be okay, it should work—it would work.

"I know," I delivered a trademark smirk, not bothering turning off the engine as I parked the car in second row. "Thanks for the help, man. It's great to have you back." I said as he climbed off.

A horn blared behind me; Gabe was still leaning inside the car. I chuckled when he flipped off the guy.

"Don't get me into trouble."

"Would never think of it," he winked mischievously. "When am I going to meet the lucky lady?"

I groaned tilting my head closer to the horn of the car thinking I would smack it if he carried on implying there was something lovey-dovey going on between me and Ava.

"No, forget it. She's off limits. Meeting you would just scare her away."

"No worries, it won't take long now." I scrunched my eyebrows, he smiled. "Drive safe."

The door slammed in my face. I guess that was the end of that. When the sucker honked at me again I rolled my eyes taking off. It wasn't long before I was stopped by a red traffic light. I should go home, eat something and go to bed. I needed a good night's rest—I'd earned it. I should go without making any stops. No stops… but when I arrived at the turn for the Brooklyn Bridge I made it.

Ava's house was in a suburb of sorts. I admit, before meeting her I'd never been to this part of Brooklyn, but it was expected, New York was a big place. The lane was lined with houses wavering from two-floor to three-floors. Her house was one of the two levels. That was a good thing since I couldn't waltz in through the front door.

After parking the SUV behind the same bushy garden from last time, I walked the remaining block to her house, going around back. Before climbing the tree I set my eyes on her window—the light was on. It didn't surprise me it was only nine. I lifted myself off the ground with the help of a steady branch above my head. The bark made my hands sting, heat up as I climbed further and did my best to grip for balance. When I was high enough I braced my back against its trunk before launching forward landing smoothly, without a single noise. I put a fucking cat to shame, I grinned.

Sauntering my way to her window, I stopped. I should close my eyes, look away would be easy too. I just… couldn't. I'd seen tons of girls taking off their clothes in front of me—for me—but there wasn't a way to explain the throbbing my body was being put through as I saw Ava slipping off her cardigan, quickly followed by her top. I felt like all the oxygen in the world wouldn't be enough to keep me alive, all because I wasn't breathing. Clutching the window frame I could tell my muscles were tensing, clenching, turning tight. No one had ever made me feel the way I was feeling right now, it was devious, my heart was burning from all the acceleration. When she was about to unhook her bra strap my neck muscles got to work, enabling me to turn another way.

I pressed my fingers to my cheeks, they were burning up like I'd stuck my head in a oven. That was a new one. So was seeing Ava strip, I had a feeling she better not know that, like ever. And another was the feeling she awakened in me. It wasn't because of her body, although it was beautiful that wasn't it. I saw models' bodies every Saturday and Sunday—when I couldn't bail on it—what Ava had… it was something else. Maybe it was because she didn't know I was watching her? Yeah, maybe…

I was surprised when I gazed back into the room—she was all ready for bed. The corners of my lips turned up as I saw her wearing sleeping shorts this time around. Not able to wait any longer, my knuckles rapped the window. Ava jumped just like the other time, I laughed softly. Her eyes were slits, squinting to see who was outside her window. Was it that hard to figure out? How many visitors came through her window at night? The idea of any other guy doing this made envy and jealousy pulsate through my veins.

The latches on the window were lifted, "Trip?" she asked surprised. I leaned my head in further, she didn't back up. "This isn't a hotel, you know." Ava informed crossing her arms.

She was giving me a disapproving glare, or trying to. It didn't scare me away. I actually thought it was cute.

"Are you going to leave me out here, then?"

Her Bambi self wasn't out, but she huffed turning her back to me and walked to the middle of the bedroom. I took that as an invitation.

"What are you doing here, Thomas?"

"I was in the neighborhood."

"Sure you were, Spidey." She mocked causing a smirk to overcome my lips.

"Okay, so I wasn't—but my spider-sense was tingling."

"Oh really?"

"Yep," I mumbled hoping my eyes wouldn't linger on her discarded clothes—the ones I saw her take off. "I felt trouble over here and I had to come. See, I'm a sucker for pretty girls in trouble."

Ava's chest heaved slowly.

"Are you trying to sweet-talk me, Harrington?" Her lips were curved up, it wasn't much, maybe an inch—I saw it.

Walking closer to her I bent my head to hers. Our eyes met, locked, whatever. They just didn't let go of each other. She didn't back down. A swirl of colorful emotions leaked into my bloodstream. Were these lingering effects from pot? Probably not.

"I figured you were going out of your mind, I decided to come and put you out of your misery." I said baring a serious face, enough to make her skittish.

Ava looked like she wanted to start biting her nails. I forced down an impish grin, I was being mean building up all the suspense.

"Your portfolio is sitting in my car's back seat." I don't think she was aware of the breath her lungs released. "I swapped—"

Saying I was baffled wouldn't cut it. Shit, I didn't know any word that could describe how I was feeling as her arms dove around my waist, bringing her body and mine up-close and personal. Her breasts were loose pressing up to my chest. There were two layers of clothes between us, her T-shirt and my shirt, we might as well have been wearing nothing but our skins. I knew a woman's body well, not by choice, I did though—and I knew what those pointy things stabbing me in the chest were—her nipples. God, she was so close, her body was so on me. My hands trembled at my sides before I took a mental cold shower, and strung a few f-bombs for my stupidity then I hugged her back.

Stunned, I decided as she pulled herself from me. I was stunned. Ava had never hugged me—she had, but I'd made the first move, so it didn't really count as a hug on her part, right?

Clearing her throat and avoiding my eyes, Ava hugged her elbows.

"Sorry," her voice was a hushed whisper. "It was impulse—"

"Its fine," I shrugged it off like Ava did on every other occasion. "I get it. This means a lot to you."

She nodded, "It does." Then her head lingered in the same position for seconds of silence, until she had the guts to lift it, eying me. "What did you do?"

"Hmm, we found a girl that looks like you—enough—and forged a portfolio, swapping hers for yours." Ava's eyebrows shot at the word 'we'. Maybe now she was going to slap me. "A friend helped me, I'm sorry I shouldn't have involved him, I know it's personal for you—"

"No," I blinked. "I mean, yes, it is personal to me but… if you trusted him with it I think I can trust him too. I hope." Her tongue skimmed past the curve of her lips, wetting them. She looked different today, I couldn't put my finger on it, just… there was something in the way she was acting with me.

"You can trust him, he's a good friend." I assured.

We were still standing in the middle of her room when she stopped rubbing a arm up and down awkwardly.

"Why did you replace my portfolio? Wasn't stealing it enough? I don't think anyone would notice it was missing."

"That's where you're wrong. My Mom always selects five models for auditions—don't ask why, I don't know—and plus," I focused deeply on her, on her drop-dead gorgeous legs—fuck, her whole figure was model-material. "She would've remembered someone like you, maybe not what you looked like exactly, but she'd remember someone as model-fitting as you."

"You think… I'm model perfect?"

"Yeah, I know you hate to be one, Ava, but you are sort of perfect for it. Hell, I thought my Mom would love to have you for a model before I knew you were one." My fingers ran though my hair watching as a pink blush infested her face.

"Do you think it will work?" she said, saying nothing to the fact that she was an exemplary model.

"I hope so." I wish I could tell her it was one-hundred percent viable, with no margin for failure—but life was tricky, a game of chance. Sometimes we got screwed over no matter what. "When you show up for the audition they'll probably send you packing."

Ava tilted her head down so her hair would slide to either side framing her heart shaped face, hiding it from view. What the—was she crying?

"Something wrong?" she shook her head. I kept frowning. "Is this because I said you're a good model?" I whispered only to have her head shake violently, but still no answer. "Then why won't you look at me, Ava?" My voice fell to the depths of soft, fingers brushing the underside of her wrist—her head flew up.

Doe-eyes landed on mine. They shocked me.

"No one has ever done anything like what you did for me—I mean no one. And you're… you and I have known each other for a month now—" Hmm, it felt more than a month. "And we've spent most of the time fighting…" Her eyes were super-sensitive, brilliant, shiny—unguarded. They were letting me glimpse at her, the person she kept hidden from the rest of the world. I felt privileged. "You went out of your way for me, what you did…is really kind of amazing."

My heart stuttered. Crap. I was caught between two things, the raw emotions voyaging in her chocolate eyes and our proximity. My fingers were touching more than her wrist, her own were wrapping mine. My thumb had begun a stroking motion without me knowing—Ava leaned in, staring with those big eyes. She was Bambi, vulnerable and lost in the woods.

If there was ever an intimate moment between us… this was it. I had a sneaking suspicion this was what they called 'the sign' in movies or whatever—the moment two people puckered their lips and… My jaw grew rigid. This wasn't right. She wasn't thinking and she didn't know who I really was, what I did… if she knew, she wouldn't be offering herself to me like this. Ava couldn't find out about my weekend-sex-service if she did, she would never want anything to do with me.

"Ava…" I began in a whisper.

Her eyes were so wide, awe-struck—we both jumped, well, I did only figuratively—Ava was a different story. She jumped stumbling into my chest. I gave a step back wrapping my arms in turn of her.

We looked at each other, then at her bedroom door. Another knock—oh shit.

"Please tell me it's locked." By her little whine it was safe to assume it wasn't. Fuck. I was quick but I wasn't that quick, unless I wanted to end up with a broken leg or worse a broken neck. "Shit, Ava…" I murmured as a female voice came from the other side, asking for permission to waltz in.

"Ava?" Her Mom asked again. "Honey, are you alright? Why aren't you answering?" what was up with the edge in the woman's voice? It was like she was afraid something bad happened—

Ava was quick to wriggle in my hold. I knew I had to let go, but now I didn't want to. She felt so good in my arms, her face close to mine… just a minute ago I wanted distance, talk about indecision.

I was shoved toward her bed—the hell?

"Under the bed," she hissed looking near-hysterics.

"You're kidding—" Fucking hell. She wasn't. She was serious. With one last shove my way, she began talking to her Mom as I struggled to roll under the slim space between Ava's bed cushion and the floor.

"Honey—"

"Come in!" I heard her call—then a pressure, light as it was, made the bed above me tremble.

I was trapped between Ava's bedroom floor and her bed. Nice. This was a new one for my scrap book. I hoped I didn't sneeze. The door was pushed open.

Ava's POV

"Hey, Mom, I was just getting ready for bed." I said changing my position softly, thinking about poor Thomas trapped under the bed. "What's up?"

She glared around the room with those meticulous green eyes—they stopped on the open window.

"It's a little chilly in here, baby." She said marching over to it, pulling it closed. "Wouldn't want you to catch a cold before your big day."

Sweet Mother of all babies… why did Thomas have to hear this? Why did he have to be trapped in my bedroom under my bed?

"I was feeling a little hot… I needed fresh air."

"Are you nervous?" No, but only because there wasn't going to be an audition for me, she just didn't know it.

"I'm not." I scratched my forehead.

My Mom's short hair was swiped aside as she sat down—on the bed's edge. Poor Thomas… I winced.

"You don't need to be nervous, Ava. You have to go in there with your chin held high, and show confidence. You're good—great, even. It's all a matter of attitude." I was sort of shocked out of my skin when Mom's hand cupped my cheek—she never did that to me, but I'd seen her do it to Mia. Every time Mia went on something big Mom would do exactly this. Fury burned inside of me, anger bubbled up—I knew I had to stomp it flat, though. I couldn't afford an argument. If Thomas was found out… "You'll be amazing, you always were—are." I wondered if she was talking about me or Mia.

I could have taken advantage of my Mother's affectionate gesture; the only problem was that her touch was burning my skin to the point where I thought it would peel off. I leaned back, discretely smiling forcefully, thinking about my sake and Thomas'.

"I'm fine, Mom, really I am." I don't need a freaking pep-talk. I thought with an inward groan. "I'm tired so I should go to bed. I want to be fresh as a daisy for tomorrow." Oh I was so getting mocked for that one.

Mom's smile was ecstatic like she'd won the lottery. Well, good, I was glad someone could be happy when all I was, was miserable.

"If you say so, goodnight Ava."

"Night, Mom." Keep walking, keep walking, keep—there was cotton under my bed, if we survived this, I was going to clean it—weekly.

Mom spun on cue I held my hand to my mouth and faked a sneezing sound, snapping my eyes closed. No one sneezed with their eyes open.

With a sheepish smile I met her green eyes.

"You were right it was chilly…" I giggled softly. "Glad you closed it."

With a shake of her head she scolded me briefly about being careful with my health. When she put her foot out the door I practically shot for it, locking it—letting the most relieved sigh escape. I swear I slid down the door, sitting on the floor. That lasted only moments because I was on feet scrambling to help Thomas out from under the bed. His dark shirt was covered by lint and puffy cotton-bunnies. One was actually stuck to his hair. I reached up plucking it, throwing it aside.

"Fresh as a daisy…?" his lips were a time bomb, the straight line began to flatter giving way to a wide smirk, he tried to press his lips so the laughs wouldn't come out—but they did.

The back of my hand smacked his shoulder, pouting all the while.

"That is so unlike you."

I snorted, "I think you know me better than my parents." With a deep breath I rotated to him, stealing my gaze away from the bolted door. "You're a trouble magnet." I mumbled sinking my finger in the middle of his chest, he looked wounded.

"I came here with good intentions—to save you from an agonizing despair of not knowing what would happen tomorrow—"

"A text or phone call would have done the job." I knew I was right, he knew I was right. Which led me to question: why was he here?

"I thought you'd like to see me since I was absent the whole day." He leaned down, our noses grazing. "I didn't want you to obsess."

I stiffened thinking back to what was sketched in my calculus notebook. Sometimes it scared me how people came close to the truth.

"Obsess? About what, you?" I rolled my eyes wishing it sounded more convincing than it did in my ears. Ignoring what would have happened between us if Mom hadn't come in was hard, but doable… right? I sure hope so.

"No, not that I'd hate the thought of—" Thomas stopped mid sentence; I think I could finish it though. Why had he stopped? Wasn't it like him to make smartass comments like that? "I didn't want you to go out of your mind because of the audition." He finished shifting his weight looking suddenly uncomfortable. "And I guess my job here is done."

He was nearly throwing himself out of my house—my bedroom. That was weird. I made a face inside my head, no it wasn't weird. I never kissed anyone before and even I knew what we'd been about to do. Trip knew better than me. He knew… and now was acting like this, like he wanted to bail before… before I did something—before something happened between us.

"I'll be going." Trip smiled but it didn't reach his eyes. I felt like he'd kicked me in the shins.

"You have to?" I found myself asking more than stating. I hated him, I hated myself—hated that I realized I was crushing on him and he… didn't want me that way.

"I'll see you tomorrow?" English was our first class. I guess… I nodded numbly.

When his back turned to me I felt myself crack. Every voice I should have listened too was pushed aside.

"Yeah?" Thomas looked over his shoulder.

My hand slipped from his arm as those blue eyes shone darkly, a midnight blue. They were breathtaking.

"Hum… thanks." That was so not what I wanted to say. What would I say, though? Ask him why he didn't want to kiss me?

Trip shook a couple of bangs from his forehead.

"What are friends for?"

"Friends, yeah." I smiled despite wanting to scream at the top of my lungs. I hated that word, despised it. "Goodnight, Thomas."

"Goodnight, Ava." Then he turned to the window, finishing pulling it up.

I closed my eyes not wanting to watch him leave—I felt like a total girly-girl. Strong fingers wrapped my arm and I was propelled forward. My eyes shot open just in time for me to see Thomas' face closing in, my heart almost lost it. Then, I felt them. They were fresh, full—perfect. His lips pecked my cheek. I looked like I'd just been hit by a stun-gun.

My mouth parted—he slipped through the window. I stayed there, feeling spring's air rush softly inside my bedroom. Absently, I touched the spot where he'd kissed me. My skin was red, flaring. Not even Arctic wind would make it go down. Wow, if I felt like this after a kiss on the cheek how would I have felt like if he'd kissed my lips? Would I spontaneously combust?

I threw myself on the bed after closing the window for the night. I was in a pickle—I really, really was. I was crushing on Thomas. Judged on what happened here he wasn't interested—or was he? Why had he pecked my cheek, he never did it before. But if he was into me why wouldn't he kiss me, why would he act strange afterward? A kiss to him meant nothing. He kissed hundreds of girls, models, but he couldn't kiss me? I rubbed my hands along my face, still baffled by the fact I wanted him to kiss me, I wanted to kiss back. Then there was something else. I couldn't like Thomas that way—actually, I shouldn't like being his friend. I did though. If my Mother found out… shit would hit the fan.

There was only one solution to solve all of these problems. I had to stop crushing on Trip, I had to. Somehow. Yeah, that's it, I decided. All I have to do is convince myself that he's an awful person and will only make unhappy.

I closed my eyes opening them immediately. I'd seen his face, those eyes, that smile. It was going to be easy.

Easy...

I groaned staring at the ceiling. I really hated having a heart sometimes.