Page 41 of Sweetest Hate

Bass thumped through my custom stereo system to keep me awake after the exhausting day, and I was dead on my feet by the time I pulled alongside the curb of my dad's house, or rather Ivy's. I was still having a hard time believing Bill Scott had willingly moved into a middle-class neighborhood.

When I stepped inside, I was met with the sight of Quinn sleeping on the couch and immediately scanned the room for Kellan, even though he was likely home next door. Annoyed at myself that my first instinct was to seek out my inconvenient obsession, even though he was the only reason I'd changed my mind in the first damn place. I headed for the guest room that had been prepared for my arrival and yawned. Unable to think past my need to sleep, I set my bag by the closet, and stripped down to my boxer briefs before I crawled under the quilted floral pattern comforter and immediately fell asleep.

The sound of music, a heavy beat that echoed down the hall, woke me from a deep sleep. I grabbed my phone from where I'd placed it on the shabby-chic dresser that matched the rest of the room and checked the time. I groaned. Only a couple of hours had passed since my head had hit the pillow.

Sliding off the bed, I crossed the room and retrieved a loose forest-green shirt and a pair of jeans from my bag to change into and quickly dressed. Barefoot, I stepped into the hall, and frustration hit me full force at the sight of people filling the living room and kitchen. I'd been back for a couple hours, Quinn maybe a few more, and he was already throwing a party while my dad and his mom were still off handling business affairs.

Unaware that I'd changed my plans to skip my dad's house, Quinn only silently met my eyes as I strode into the kitchen and retrieved a bottle of water from the refrigerator. Ignoring my stepbrother and his friends, I headed for the backdoor to escape the throng of people and the inevitable mess he'd be cleaning up tomorrow.

When I stepped onto the porch, I was surprised to find a loan figure laying out on the back lawn, with his hands tucked behind his head, his gaze aimed upward toward the sky.Kellan. What was he doing out here? And why wasn't he inside with his group of friends?

I followed his line of sight to the clear view of a full moon and bright stars dotting the endless dark sea of the universe. I don't know exactly what prompted me to ask, but the way he studied the scene reminded me of the way he'd gazed off over the lake when I'd found him painting the landscape.

"You want to paint it, don't you?"

He startled, sitting upright and twisting to look back at me. "What?"

"The sky." I tipped my chin. "You want to paint it."

His mouth opened before snapping shut again. Strolling across the yard, I dropped down onto the lawn a few feet from him and picked at a patch of clover.

Kellan watched me for several long seconds before he sighed. "Maybe. I'm not really in the mood for another party, but Quinn…"

Quinn wasn't capable of a quiet night of lazing around. Kellan didn't need to fill in the blanks for me to understand why he'd sought the seclusion of the night. A soft, warm breeze skated over my skin and ruffled both of our hair. If I had an artistic bone in my body, I might have been tempted to capture Kellan's profile as he returned to star-gazing, appearing focused on the sky, deep in thought.

Refusing to think more about why the odd thought had even crossed my mind, I asked, "The noise doesn't bother your parents?"

He glanced at me and shook his head. "They went out. Date night once a week."

"Yeah?" I wondered what it would be like to have both parents in my life. Whether they would still be keeping their marriage alive with dates and showing me what a healthy relationship looked like. I hadn't started the day looking to psychoanalyze myself, so I shifted topics before he could answer. "Why aren't you painting if you want to do it?"

His brows furrowed. "What do you care?"

That was fair. My lips kicked up on one side. I hadn't given him reason to think I'd been interested the first time I'd caught him painting. "Shut up, and answer the question."

Kellan chewed on his lip as he shrugged. "I thought about it."

My brows rose. "So, go grab your shit then."

His nose scrunched. "It's dark."

"So? It's a full moon. You can see enough," I suggested.

After giving me a considering look, he finally nodded. "Be right back."

Kellan said it as if he expected me to stay there, waiting for him to return. That surprised me, but I wasn't planning on going anywhere anyway. I didn't want to go back into the packed house, and I enjoyed watching Kellan. Whether I liked it or not, it was just a fact. I wasn't a fan of depriving myself of what I wanted, so I sat and waited.

The sounds of the party still filled in the otherwise silent night, and I was just waiting for the noise complaint. Quinn didn't seem to suffer the same concerns. The volume seemed to escalate as more alcohol was consumed by the growing number of people arriving, some who had been at the lake and others I'd never seen before.

The soft sound of flip-flops on the grass made me look toward Kellan's house just as he stepped out of the shadows. Heading in my direction, he carried the large canvas bag that held his art supplies slung over his shoulder.

Wordlessly, he plopped down in the same spot a few feet from me, sitting cross-legged as he unzipped his portfolio bag and slipped a small canvas board free. He then carefully removed a wooden box I knew held his paints and brushes. Or rather, the version of it that he saw which hadn't been visible to me.

"You're staring, again," Kellan accused as he popped open the case and laid out what he needed in an orderly display that spoke of experience.

"You seemed to like it before." My lips twitched as he cast me an annoyed glance.

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