Page 39 of Painting Celia

“What is it?” he asked.

“What is what?”

“You, tensing up for no reason. We’re just looking at art.”

She frowned. “I’m not tense.”

“You’re lying,” he snapped.

Her eyes flared with hurt.

Well, she had to hear it! “If you’re not honest about your emotions, at least with yourself, none of this will work. None of this—” he waved a hand at the paintings, “will make sense because honesty is the only thing that matters here! You have to put honest emotions into the painting, and the viewer has to be honest about what feelings they get. That’s the connection, the whole point!”

“Let go!” she growled.

He looked down and found he’d grabbed her elbow again, so released her with an exasperated noise. Her fierce little face was proof that his words were getting through, at least!

“This locking away of emotions you do,” he bristled, “I can’t tell if it’s on purpose. It’s hurting you. It’s stopping you from being…being pretty, being real!”

“Pretty!” Her cheeks flamed.

“Not pretty. Human, genuine. You have no idea how different you look when you’re being honest and open. It’s night and day!”

She lifted her chin and stepped back, putting a cold distance between them. He saw the shutters go down over her face, literally saw it.

“Our arrangement was painting lessons. That’s all! If learning how to feel out loud is part of painting, fine! But it’s nothing to you if I’m pretty doing it. I’m trying!”

She wasn’t hearing him.

“I know you’re trying,” he said, lowering his voice. “I didn’t say that right. I’m sorry. It’s not your appearance I mean. I can see the tension when you’re nervous, and when you say you’re not nervous, that’s not true.”

Her eyes flashed, her chin lifted defiantly. “You think that’s better? You’re still calling me a liar.”

“I mean…be honest. Just be more honest!”

“The opposite of a liar?”

Jesus, the edge in her voice! His hand flew wide again, and she flinched. “I don’t mean you’re deliberately lying! Or maybe you are. What do I know?”

He hadn’t meant to shout, but she’d raised her voice first! Did she want to learn from him or not?

Trevor materialized between them.

“Hey, guys,” he said quietly. “Um, what’s happening here?”

León opened his mouth to tell him, then clamped it shut. Damn.

Celia shot Trevor a glance but quickly turned her flushed and angry glare back to León. Their breaths came hard, and León realized his hands were balled into painful fists. Dogged, he returned her glower, his own face hot.

She had to understand what he was telling her. He couldn’t work with her as she was.

“Yeah,” Trevor said slowly. “So, let’s go, then.”

Celia turned on her heel for the door, head held insultingly high. ¡Reina! León paced after.

The car ride was silent and tense. Trevor met León’s hard eyes in the rearview mirror too often.

“I’m not sure what you two were arguing about,” he finally said, “but you weren’t loud, not until the end. I don’t think anyone noticed.”

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