Trespassing

Ava's POV

Keeping my eyes closed wasn't an option. If I did that I would never leave the runway, change and avoid piercing eyes. I did all that in a matter of minutes. My legs were still trembling when I ran outside, through the backdoor.

My neck felt itchy on the front—that didn't matter, not now. My mother was there, in the audience. She'd seen me—us—kissing. I tried not to hyperventilate... I tried pretty hard, especially when I found my car, slammed the door and my back against the seat. Closing my eyes then was easy—welcome.

Thomas' taste lingered like a persistent coffee stain. Just like it had when we'd kissed in the harbor. Hands fisting into my damp hair I cried out—banging my hands on the wheel frustrated. Taking several deep breaths, I rubbed my temples—hard. The headache was already manifesting itself...

My cell vibrated—I dumped the bag in the back in a haste of blind fury. In the quiet void that was the interior of my car, I heard it again. I didn't care about texts—my mind kept rushing to Thomas. What was he going through? His mother hadn't looked happy. What... what if Giselle decided to use whatever it was she had against him? Oh my God... Trip said it would ruin his life and... and I'd been the one to kiss him!

What had I done—

I was prepared to flip off whoever was beating on the window. When I saw two sapphires with a pale glint I unlocked the car. My mouth gaped further when Thomas didn't race to the other door—he flung mine open.

"What is it with you and differing my texts?" he let out in one breath as he bent down, leveling our eyes.

My cheeks were protected by his palms, he pulled in closer. I pushed into the car. What was he doing? I didn't care. I let him do it. His muscles were hard as he lifted me, sliding into my seat, lowering me to his lap.

This reminded me of our first study session. I'd been like this—back pressed into his chest. Thomas' arms circled my waist in a stronghold.

"What are you doing, idiot?" I shoved my elbows waking up from the daze his body put me in. We shouldn't be together, we just got into a load of trouble because of kissing.

Did he want to make things worse? Someone could see us.

"Shh," his arms held on despite of my best efforts to get him to let go. "I looked everywhere for you." Trip whispered making the hairs on my neck stand. "We should get out of here."

"You think?" I barked suddenly angry. What had gotten into him? I could swear he was smiling against my shoulder. I didn't think we had anything to be happy about. "Thomas—!" I cried when I was dumped in the passenger's seat. "What's the big..." I grew a little stunned when I saw him rummaging through my purse. The keys dangled for a minute before the engine started. "Thomas," I reached tentatively for the hand on the gear shift. "What happened?" my voice came out higher than expected.

He only turned his palm up, thumb coursing mine. "You should really check your phone—it's still vibrating." He grinned—Thomas was grinning?

My eyebrows squinted, "Do you know what we did back there?" I asked on edge. He nodded, still grinning—dear God, he'd gone insane. "We kissed in front of people... journalists, my mom—your mom! They all saw us." I was freaking out, his silence was not doing any good, just the opposite.

"Trust me," he winked—and any other time it would have dissolved me, but for the first time in a long time, I felt like hitting Trip. "Check your phone."

My hand was itching to re-acquaint with his cheek—not in a good way—I controlled my rage, though. Digging out my phone.

My eyes couldn't believe the blasts coming from my facebook page, and twitter—and...

"Invitations to an hotel opening...?" not just any hotel, one rated five stars in the heart of the Upper East Side. "Stores... fashion shows—what the hell?" I blanked glaring at Thomas.

He tilted his gaze at me before keeping it straight on the road.

"Our kiss on the runway could have gone both ways. People could have hated it—hated you—because you were with me." I was ready to argue how I loved being with him and other people could just suck it— "I haven't the best rep going, so, a girl who's seen with me..." I nodded still angry at all the other people—it wasn't Thomas' fault. It was his mother's. "Or people could like you."

"How could they like me? They don't know me."

"No," he agreed, smile deepening. "But all those people back there care only about appearances—they don't care about the inside—the outside matters." The smirk became so broad I could feel my lips wanting to join in. "Having looks does count for something after all."

I frowned, "Stop gloating," I moved closer to his seat. "Tell me what's going on?"

"They liked you—us, I mean. They liked seeing us together. And as you may or may not know, I don't go around kissing girls in public—" I pinched his forearm. "They think we're together." He blurted, keeping in a curse about how mean I was.

"They think we're a couple...?" somehow I didn't see why I'd received invitations from important, upper-class events. Or why Thomas was grinning like a mad-man. "I don't get it... why does that make you so happy?" it wasn't like we were together—we couldn't be.

He pulled us over into a deserted ally, I wasn't sure this was safe—it kind of looked like what robbers did in the movies. Pulling into a tight, secluded place to escape the police.

Dragging a shaky breath into my longing lungs, I locked eyes with Thomas. My curiosity was making my heart pound greatly, the headache intensified with each thump.

"Thomas," I pushed forcefully at his shoulder. "Why are you so happy—?" his lips stole the quickest peck ever, making my eyes flutter. My hands seized his shoulders, keeping him close enough to feel his breath on my face. "What happened...? What did your mom tell you—what's going on?"

His tongue skimmed across his lips, "Those invitations you saw?" I nodded hurrying him on. "They're the result of positive publicity. They liked us, Ava—together. Like—and I can't believe I'm saying something as corny as—" I punched his shoulder hearing a wince. "Fine," he leaned closer again. "Like Brad and Angelina, you know? Going to parties earns money because of how good we look together—stuff like that. We're an It fashion-couple instead of Hollywood, but it's pretty much the same thing."

"You're kidding..." I felt like the wind had been knocked out of me, Thomas' hands pressed on my back so that I wouldn't fall.

"Nope," he smiled brightly—I'd never seen him so happy. "There's something else, something good." Better than being an It couple? "My mother's assistant keeps getting orders for the new collection—especially for the piece you were wearing—" Wow. Maybe girls thought they'd get Thomas' attention if they wore it—it made a pit of jealousy grow, I squashed it down when he went on. "My mom never expected to make this much money on the debut day. She…" he paused still looking overjoyed, but also incredulous—as if he couldn't believe something. "She asked me for something—sorry, demanded—" he sneered the word. I couldn't resist forcing a small smile so he'd calm down. "She never asks for anything." He muttered a while later.

"Right," I urged feeling my toes standing on pins and needles. "What was it, the… demand?"

Coming back to the car, Thomas' face lit with a phantom of a smile.

"She wants us to be a couple." And now I knew why he looked beside himself—I couldn't start to understand the words he'd spoken. Noticing my disbelief, Trip's hands grew stronger, curling on my sides—the hold sent a spiral of pleasure through me, it was strong, yet delicate. "I know, I couldn't believe it either—my mother wants us to be together—she doesn't care what we do as long as we show up for events, like those important openings?" I nodded on automatic mode. Too stunned to respond, "I hate those things, you do too… and… and you hate spotlight, attention—I know that." He mumbled softly, a strain of pain peeking behind his happiness. "So… I understand."

After what felt like a million years I spoke. "Understand what?" my voice sounded distant.

Thomas swallowed thickly, smile dismantling itself completely. He looked away.

"I understand that you don't want to do this."

Those words were what ground me down to Earth, like gravity. I searched for his chin in the dark, grasping it between my fingers. I turned his head my way.

"Why wouldn't I want this?" my thoughts lined up as I asked. There were many reasons why I could say 'no'.

Privacy would be diminished, that was a given. It would also mean I'd keep on working under Giselle's thumb—obviously. My mother would pester me about getting closer to Thomas, not because of the person he was, but for his money—I hated that greed—

"Because…" it came out above a whisper, "You'll have to put up with so many things you hate. This isn't the way I wanted it—never like this. I didn't want my mother to use us so we'd promote her brand." Trip said heavily, taking his head between his hands. I didn't fight off the impulse to rub circles on his back, comforting him. "But… this is the only way I see how."

A thought hit me like a brick, straight in the head.

"What about your… huh… your job?" I stated awkwardly—because out of everything, that was our true set back. I could never deal with knowing Thomas took virginities on weekends. It sounded so wrong.

Slowly, his body leaned towards mine, seeking warmth. I gave it; letting him press his forehead to my shoulder until he was content enough to pull away. My skin crawled feeling lonely as Thomas parted.

"That's the good news," his voice had fallen to the irresistible timber I loved. "I told her we'd do it—that I agreed to it if she let me stop." My lips parted in awe. His eyes were so shiny now; even in the dimness of the car I saw it. He looked so much younger, like a weight had been been taken away. "Of course she didn't just accept. Not without telling me that half the profit I make from attending those parties goes to her." Trip rolled his eyes recovering a rudeness he always detained—I liked that. "Like I care about money, she can stuff herself with it."

I laughed—really laughed, loud, and out of control. He smirked widely. My laughs died when I grasped what was at stake here—we could be together. Sure we had to do things, things we hated, but wasn't it worth it?

With Thomas by my side I felt like I could handle anything. It was stupid, foolish, still, it was what it felt like.

I hesitated a bit, "What happens if we don't… act like a couple?" I didn't think Thomas' mom cared if we liked each other, or were just messing around. She just wanted us to show up together.

He flinched from me, "That's where her leverage against me comes in." He didn't need to say more. "Look," he began sighing loudly. "I don't want anything to influence you, Ava. Don't worry alright? If you don't want to be together it's fine. I can handle my mom, even if she releases the—"

"Shut up," I breathed over his neck. Thomas did so; I pushed him into the seat so I could have enough space to crawl onto his lap. "Idiot," I muttered into his chest. He looked so handsome in his sports jacket, the white silken shirt—the one I was fisting my hands in. "How can you even think I want anything else?" I lifted my gaze to his. "Do you really need me to say it? Because I will, just say the word." My fingers dug deep into his lapels.

Thomas blue gems glinted steadily as his breath itched.

"Say you want me," his finger pads made me tremble, going down my arms. "Say you want to be with me."

Bringing my face an inch from his, I said, "There's nothing I want more..." I kissed him once, shortly. "There's nothing I want more than to be with you."

Thomas' arms smashed me into his chest. I relished in it, feeling his strong biceps flex; lean but strong, just like the rest of him. The smell of citrus wafted, I indulged my senses, filled my lungs with his scent.

Before I knew how, Trip had maneuvered me to an angle where he could peer down at my face, and as he did it, he traced my waves with his fingers.

My ears caught on suddenly, "—I think about you all the time, I care about you so much—a world without you is unimaginable for me." My heart was doing its stupid flip-flopping thing. "That's how special you are to me."

I wanted to say something as incredible, show I was just as passionate as he was, but all the words coming to mind were simply no match. Sometimes it surprised me how much better he was at this—saying sweet things that made me want to bawl.

I captured his manly hand in mine; he shivered as my lips pressed with uttermost gentleness onto his knuckles, like he was drawing that gesture into his heart. My eyes trailed up to his face, as did my free hand. Thomas leaned in, eyes closing; I grew closer to his ear.

"You are the sweetest guy ever." I whispered kissing his neck lightly, nuzzling softly as he drew an arm around my waist. "Everything with you is worth it, Thomas Harrington—I wouldn't trade the simple act of knowing you for the world."