Free So Damn Beautiful (A New Adult Romance) by L.J. Kennedy

why New York
was rockin’ it in the heyday of graffiti. But then folks like
Quentin traded in their tag names for big bucks from Wall Street or
Hollywood—took the best parts of graffiti and sold their souls
mass-marketing it to People magazine–reading drones. And now
you see him back here, trying to reclaim street art like it’s some
kinda gutter punk that just needs to be cleaned up a little to look
presentable. Fuck that—he’s the reason anything street is so wack
right now!”
    I rolled my eyes. Here we go again , I
thought. Chase was going to launch into one of his tirades about
art. I barely knew the guy, but he was starting to sound like a
broken record. “I thought you had ‘regard’ for Quentin,” I
said.
    Chase shrugged and got a slightly glazed-over
look in his eyes. “For the person he used to be. He sure as hell
isn’t that anymore.”
    Chase massaged his neck slightly, and I
caught a glint of something bright in the light. My attention was
drawn to a beautiful silver crescent moon around his neck. Funny, I
hadn’t noticed it before.
    Chase noticed where my attention had drifted
and fingered the delicate pendant lightly. “It’s an
apotropaic.”
    “A what?”
    He snorted slightly. “What, didn’t get that
word when you took your SATs? It’s kind of an amulet, something to
keep me safe from all the bad guys.” He leaned into me a little
closer. I could smell his cologne, a deep and musky scent that made
my knees turn to liquid. “Ward off the evil influences, rival
taggers, shit like that.” He looked around at the artwork on the
walls. “Hopefully it’ll make sure I never become a talentless hack
whose business is all up on TMZ.”
    “Those are fightin’ words for a guy who’s
supposedly the next big bad-boy heartthrob, according to Variety ,” I snapped. I didn’t care for Quentin’s work
either, but Chase was really starting to get on my nerves. “I’m not
understanding your beef with Quentin, given that you seem to be
well on your way to stardom yourself.” I gestured to the growing
crowd of lollygagging chicks closing in.
    “Look at you—all jealous and shit!” Chase
said amusedly, crossing his arms and stopping to consider me.
    “What? I am so not jealous, Chase
Adams. I’ve just been doing a little research . . . on current art
movements in the city, is all.” My cheeks turned scarlet. I was
stunned by the accusation, but I couldn’t exactly deny it. The fact
that a small army of gorgeous women were wasting their time on this
arrogant bastard should have made me feel sorry for them, but,
strangely enough, I couldn’t help but wonder wistfully whom he’d be
taking home tonight.
    Chase chuckled almost good-naturedly. “The
way you were checking me out a couple weeks ago, Goldilocks, I’m
just surprised you’re not stalking me!”
    “You are so full of yourself,” I said
through gritted teeth, before turning my back on him to go look for
Kendra.
    Chase grabbed my elbow and pulled me back
toward him. I gasped. My head was practically smashed against his
chest, given how crowded the gallery had become in the last few
minutes. I looked up, straight into Chase’s bottle-green eyes, and
almost forgot how horrible he’d just been to me. He was just . . .
so damn beautiful.
    “Goldilocks, about the day when you and your
lil’ homegirl came by?”
    I frowned. “What about it?”
    He opened his mouth, but before he could say
anything, he careened right into me, toppling the glass of red wine
I’d been idly holding in my right hand (I didn’t really drink, but
I didn’t want to look juvenile, either, so I’d taken the glass when
Kendra had shoved it at me). I gasped as the entire contents
splashed out and arced over onto my dress, spattering me with angry
burgundy droplets.
    “What the fuck, Chase?” Before I could react,
a very angry-looking brunette with long, straight hair and a tight
black-leather corset dress gave him another accusatory push.
    “Jesus,