Trespassing

Ava's POV

Doing photo shoots for a big time brand was hard core. Fortunately, most shooting sessions were after school hours. I wasn't falling behind.

"Ava take five, sweetheart, there's someone here to see you." Clarissa—Miss suit-wearer-of-the-year—called from behind Peter.

My muscles hummed contently as they were allowed to relax. I'd been flexing my neck, legs and arms far too much in the last two hours. I didn't need five minutes, I needed—

A genuine smile sprung. Thomas walked from behind a dark panel. The photography studio shone in a golden bathe. Heels be damned, I rushed over the sleek floor, flinging my arms around his neck.

His chuckle vibrated through me, warming my insides.

"Trying to tackle me, are you?" I said nothing for two seconds, breathing him in.

I finally looked up, beaming, "I had no idea you were coming here."

"That's usually the idea of a surprise, Rosy. I'd say you're beside yourself to see me, but without a kiss to show for it..." he shook his head, tucking in those wonderful lips. "Not sure I can vouch for that."

I fixed that real quick. My lips skimmed over Thomas', I could taste remains of Cola and smiled at the normality of him. No one would be caught dead drinking a soda inside this oversized-fashion-corporation.

Trip pushed forward, a hand trailed low, gripping the prototype-dress. His fingers dug deep, overlooking the satin fabric, as if touching my thigh directly. I gasped shortly, having the good sense of pulling back.

"Easy boy," I half-kidded. Though, I wasn't okay with him turning me into a moaning machine here. "You saw me at school this morning."

Thomas flipped his hazel hair, "What can I say? I'm insatiable when it comes to you." He grinned, holding my hand.

My heart slammed when Clarissa cleared her throat behind me. Trip's sapphire irises shone annoyed.

"We're having a minute." He bit frostily, reminding me of Giselle when she was out giving orders. "Do you need anything? If not, leave."

Her high, strict ponytail seemed to fall off and flee. Clarissa's face dropped the cool edge.

"Huh, yes, well you see Mr. Harrington—" I pushed my face to his shoulder keeping a giggle. Her voice was all over the place with nerves. "Giselle wants you to moderate the, hum... public affection display."

Thomas raised an eyebrow, "First she wants us to be a couple, now she wants us not to act coupley? Tell her to make up her damn mind." Trip growled keeping a taut face. "How long until this session's over?"

Clarissa—still nodding briskly—pulled an iPhone.

"Ten more minutes."

"Good. Now give us some privacy." She skedaddled faster than a rocket.

My arms wrapped his neck, I was head to head with him—heels served a purpose after all. "You were a little mean," I pouted. "I think that's abuse of power?"

"You're dating the boss's son, some privileges had to come along." Trip shrugged bumping our nose tips. "It's weird having you eye-to-eye. I'm used to you being shorter—not that you're short. Those legs of yours..." he whispered. "They go on forever and they do things to me, baby."

I blushed, feeling a shudder rolling off him.

"Only interested in my legs?" I brushed a knee over his jean-clad thigh. Thomas drew a gasp. "I thought we had something special."

Smirking from ear to ear, Trip claimed my waist, leaning in.

"I'm interested in all of you, gorgeous. Face, chest, arms, fingertips, legs, feet, toes—" I squeaked when he propelled me against him. "Now, behave before Miss Stuck-up phones mommy dearest and has me thrown out for public indecency."

Innocently, I ran a finger down Thomas' chest. "You'd lose your cool because of a little teasing?"

His deep blues grew serious, his arms grounded me to him.

Trip husked in my ear, "Do you have the faintest idea of what you do to me?" my air-ways clogged shortly. "You fucking undo me, Ava. So yeah, I might lose my owned self-control and embarrass myself."

Good Lord, I wished Thomas hadn't mentioned that. It made me all giddy! Peter Simmons, a photographer on-the-rise, shot beautifully. Keeping the backgrounds balanced and classic. The last few weeks we'd been shooting for a new catalog. I was going to take up a lot of space, apparently.

Mom couldn't be happier.

Despite my hate for pricey, designer clothing, I was handling it better than I'd thought. The reason why was leaning on a far wall, keeping his whimsical eyes glued. Thomas traced, kept up, with the tiniest movement I did. Not missing a beat.

I wanted to fan myself. His gaze heated my low parts. Oven temperature.

I was glad the red, eighties-mixture-dress was the last. The next clothes I slipped into were my own. Thomas was outside the changing room looking like an impatient child. The first few times he came around, model girls—who were very acquainted with his body—pooled. I'd stormed past them every time, stealing him away.

I was very good at playing the jealous-girlfriend.

"Another work-day over with." I stretched my arms above my head as he embraced me. "You smell good, by the way."

He sniffed making me laugh, "You think? My girlfriend got me a brand new perfume for my birthday."

"Hmm, you can tell her she has excellent taste." I pecked his awaiting lips. "Oh—and her boyfriend is like the nicest guy ever. She loves when he comes to pick her up." He gave a shy smile leaning down—I was rocking my Converses—touching our foreheads.

"Let's ditch this prison." He snatched my fingers leading me to a elevator.

Last weekend, Thomas had officially become a legal adult. I'd gotten him to sleep in my bed the night before, when I was sure my parents weren't home, I'd made him breakfast. What took more effort was the sneaking-from-bed part. He was a sensitive sleeper.

He took me to Paradox—the empty bar where we'd had our first "meeting"—and it was nice. I met Gabe, who was pretty, hum... Well, hot. And sweet, and funny. A lot like Thomas. Finn was there, too. Plus a girl named Sharon.

He'd never said a word about his parents the entire day and I hadn't brought it up. It was pretty obvious it wasn't the first time they'd forgot or simply ignored.

My heart stung. At least, mom and dad still knew my birthday came two weeks from now.

"Thinking?" I looked up. "Your forehead makes a V when you're thinking. It's cute."

I faced the number panel hiding a small girly smile. It was still so weird and new what he did to me. It couldn't be helped, he noticed all these little things.

"Something bothering you?" Thomas' hands ran over my back, coming around the hips. "Did something happen before I got here? 'Cause I saw how that photographer was looking at you. Wanted to staple his eyes shut."

"Thomas!" I jerked my head seeing a glimpse of a grumpy/jealous tidal wave. "Don't be stupid. He was not looking at me in any way, all Peter was doing was taking shots."

"First name basis is the first step of seduction." What? Oh, this was ridiculous!

"He's my coworker. Not a perv who's trying to commit sexual harassment." My hair smacked his face. "Besides," I poked his cheek. "You were the one giving me meet-me-in-the-janitor's-room looks. Long ones."

Thomas' mood was victim of a complete makeover. His eyes crinkled with cockiness.

"Did I make you uncomfortable?" I was backed into a metal wall. How long did we have? "Not my intention."

I didn't believe him for a sec; but rather than discuss whether or not his panty-dropping gazes were on purpose, I fisted my fingers into the honey hair. Thomas came willingly shaping our lips.

Trip's tongue ran over my bottom lip slowly, asking entrance. My mouth parted inches, instead of letting him in, I flicked my tongue against his. A groan ripped from deep within my boyfriend. He pinned my hand on the wall, softly.

We fit together like a piece of apple pie.

The elevator opened too quickly causing us to break apart hastily. Both out of breath, we looked at each other sharing a secret smile. Thomas smoothed over his tousled hair trying to fix some disarray I'd caused—

Thomas stopped, eyes glazing over. "Fuck."

Trip's POV

Fuck.

Mirages were supposed to be a good thing, right? Like an oasis in the middle of a blazing desert. Not blasts from the past that made you wanna build a time machine.

Dirty golden hair hanging below the shoulders—still the perfect line between straight and wavy. Flickering over her once, I knew she was the same as two years ago. If not better.

Curvy in every place that counted. Ferrari could be her middle name.

Catherine Fitz was the woman who could turn gay to straight, straight to lesbian. She was as sexy, as she was devious. A she-devil doing a perfect, calculated catwalk on five inch heels.

Catherine was the face of Lovet, the top-model. The favorite. My nightmare. And last time I checked, she was working in Paris, mom had another company there.

"Trip?" shit. My shoulders jumped. "What? Do you know her...?"

My jaw flexed. I'd zoned out. Looking down at Ava's hand, curled into mine, I felt my pulse kick. What was I supposed to say?

"I..." I whispered. "I..." Crap. No one left me speechless. But Catherine dropping in with no warning? I hadn't put on my armor.

"Tho—"

"Thomas?" I did my best, but my muscles locked down. Ava glanced to Catherine, frowning. "It is you. Can't go wrong with those blue eyes." Her conspicuous smile stirred unwanted memories. "You're taller, though, suits you."

"It's been two years." That didn't sound like my voice.

I felt Ava regard me, wondering what the F.U.D.G.E. was happening. As much as I wanted to say anything, move... I was stuck. My brain was rewinding everything—my chest rose strongly. My wrists felt on fire.

"I thought you were working in Paris."

"I am," she shifted her autumn-leaf eyes from me to Ava. "And you must be Ava? Giselle told me about you, quite a lot."

"Oh," Ava let out a breath. "That's me."

"Let me guess," Catherine leaned on her hip skillfully. "She didn't tell you a thing, did she?" Anticipation shot through me. What was Catherine getting into—?

"I'm sorry I have no idea what you're talking about. She didn't tell me about...?" Bambi was taking care of business. I was sure if Ava knew who this top-model was, what she'd done—she'd bring out the big guns.

She still had that tick—fiddling with her scarf. I wanted to kick myself in the nuts for remembering it.

"Giselle asked me here for a few weeks so I could mentor you? She has high hopes, I'm guessing." Catherine's voice was light, almost soft.

Amiable.

I felt a urge to rip her apart where she stood.

"Mentor?" Ava echoed sounding faint. It could be mistaken for happiness. I knew better. It was horror.

Just as I felt.

The Wicked Witch of the West... a mentor to Ava? My heart was doing back-flips, not in the good sense.

"My mother hasn't run that by her." Block gone. "Shouldn't she have talked with Ava before calling your little ass over seas?"

"Little ass?" Cath snorted insulted. "Anyway, your mother doesn't consult anyone, Thomas. You know that. She orders, we do. No questions asked."

My teeth ground, "Yeah. I do know."

Something clicked because Catherine's eyes lowered to our hands.

"You were leaving, I won't keep you any longer. Or Giselle. The last thing I need is a scolding to add to jet lag." Her eyelashes batted. I couldn't help but think she didn't look ill rested at ll. "It was nice seeing you, Thomas."

"A pleasure," I murmured sarcastically.

Ava shook her head at me. It was my fault she didn't get my hate.

"Nice meeting you, Ava, we'll probably be seeing each other soon. I look forward to it." With a wave that would've made people misjudge her for a princess, Catherine made a beeline around us.

A knot in my chest slackened.

A part of me still couldn't wrap itself around it—she was here. In New York. If flying hours away wasn't enough for us to be apart, how would miles be?

"Okay," Ava tugged my hand. Halting my stiff-walk near her car. "What happened back there? And don't say nothing. I thought you were going into shock!" Her hands balled up in my shirt.

Stepping back, leaning on the car's door, I closed my fingers around her tiny fists. She was so worried. For me. My skin tingled.

"Baby," I whispered cast down. "Oh, baby, I love you so much." Without knowing, I lifted each fist kissing it tenderly.

Ava eyed me under her lashes; she reached up pecking my chin.

"Inside the car?" I nodded. Allowing her hands freedom, she unlocked the car.

Once inside, I wanted out. Escape and never look back. But this was Ava. The most wonderful, amazing girl ever to enter my worthless existence. I owed her the truth, because I... I loved her and loving someone meant trust.

I trusted her.

"Remember when we got drunk?" Ava nodded, tucking a leg under her. "You asked... you asked if I'd had any girlfriends?"

A light illuminated my Bambi's soft features, "You said you'd had one, sort of."

"Well, Catherine was her. That sort of girlfriend." I could tell her heart pitter-pattered. "There's a lot more... I... I want to tell you." My voice faded out. Every limb shook, the restrained dread swiped over. "Just not here."

I met her squarely, holding her brown almond eyes.

"My house's free." Ava whispered caressing the side of my face. "My parents won't be home for a while, even if they arrived—" she bit her lip. "We'll figure something out if that happens. Okay?"

"Okay,"