Page 43 of Painting Celia

“Why?”

Why?

He’d hoped that not seeing Celia for a few days would kill his thoughts about painting her. It hadn’t worked in the least. Her face had gleamed in the firelight like just-forged copper, her apprehensive huddle inside that oversized sweater telling a story he could capture in burnt sienna and cadmium reds and yellows.

Those uncertain hazel eyes of hers sparked something unkind in him, and he knew better than to mix inspiration with complication. But, maybe he could scratch his itch another way.

“I want to paint a few studies of the statue,” León said. “The shapes are really…honest.”

Andrew grinned. “Sure, man. You know, she’ll sit for you if you ask.”

León shook his head. “Just studies, that’s all. It’s your work. I want to try out some lines without, you know, bringing her in.”

Andrew looked at him thoughtfully. León tried to rein in his expressions, aiming at casual and noncommittal, but swallowed uneasily.

“Did you…improve on this?”

Andrew’s eyebrows shot up. “You asking if that’s really what she looks like naked?”

León exhaled hard. Of course, he would find this funny.

“You’re into her!” Andrew grinned.

“I am not!” León said. “Oh hell, call it curiosity. You dated her. I bet you could do her from memory anyway.”

“My memory’s not that good. It needs refreshing sometimes.”

León ignored that. “There’s nothing to paint up here,” he said. “I just want to know if I can keep this for a week or so.”

“Yeah, yeah, it’s fine. So, you’re definitely not into her.”

“Hell no.”

Andrew shrugged. “Okay then. But are you actually going to start now? Why not sit out with us? You used to be more social.”

“No time.”

“If you say so. Beat that deadline, man,” Andrew teased with a grin on his way back out.

León set the nude on the bedside table, then sat on the cot to inspect it. Gently, he reached out and turned it slowly, watching the light from his one lamp bounce off of the glazed organic curves, highlighting different angles and shadows. It was a fine piece of work. For once, he wasn’t stuck searching for a subject to paint. He still needed a story, but he was closer.

•••

The fire burned low.

Unable to get anyone interested in her card game, Kelsey gave up and began showing Celia some photos she’d taken. Andrew and Trevor started leaning toward each other, talking about their exhibition pieces. Celia considered getting out her ‘excitement’ painting to show she could do work too, but it wasn’t good enough. It sucked being the one talentless person in the group.

You’re just useless, Celia Rose.

Ugh, that foul voice in her head again? She hadn’t heard it for a while, not since she lied to Mom about going out of town. It had been a vacation, after all, from the calls.

Wait. Tranquila. It had helped her that day.

She imagined floating in the pool at night. She hadn’t floated for so long, not since León moved in. She missed it.

Dark, calm, tranquil. Celia took slow and easy breaths, feeling her heartbeat slow. It was working.

And next… ‘What are you feeling?’ Pride that I remembered this trick. ‘No, in your body?’

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