Page 37 of Untouchable

I turn around to see her standing almost awkwardly in the kitchen. Her shoulders are slightly hunched forward as one of her hands grasps her forearm like she doesn’t know what to do with her arms. It is an odd sight. She is probably the most confident woman that I have ever met. She has been so sure and secure about who she was since the day that she was born, and she has never had a problem telling people how she feels and right where they can shove it if they piss her off. I have personally been on the receiving end of those comments more times than I can count.

“Not really. You could grab some bowls and silverware, I guess. All we have is pasta, so you’ll have to deal,” I grumble as I dump the box of noodles into the water.

To my surprise, she doesn’t give a snarky response or whine like a brat, instead she just starts moving through the kitchen to grab two bowls before she crosses the kitchen to grab some spoons. Without her even giving me an eyeroll, I kinda feel like a dick for that shitty comment.

Instead of opening the silverware drawer, she accidently pulls open the art drawer instead. I used to be really into sketching, still am sometimes. My Nonna and I did it when I was young and when my stepmom came into the picture, she got really into it with me. Even though she is absolute shit at it, she tries which is pretty great.

It feels weird to think of her as my stepmom because even though technically she didn’t give birth to me, she did raise me into the man I am today. Admittedly, I am not so sure how proud she is of her work over the last few years. Both her and my dad have expressed their displeasure of my treatment towards Seraphina and the distance that I have put between me and, well, everyone. They don’t get it though, they never would, so I don’t even waste my breath.

Seraphina picks up my old sketch book and begins flipping through it. I probably haven’t used that thing since I was 20 or so. Some of the sketches are of the lake, some are of my sisters and then Seraphina comes across one of her. One she doesn’t know that I drew.

In the picture, she is looking out at the water with a content look on her face. She isn’t smiling or frowning. Her face is just peaceful. It is just a black and white sketch which makes it all the more powerful in my mind. I like leaving color out of it, allowing the viewer to imagine what colors could be on the page instead of telling them what ones should be.

I reach over to take the book from her, but she steps away quickly as she continues to study it. I could take it from her easily, but for some reason, I almost want her to see it. I do my best to mask my emotions but the anxiousness building in my stomach is not making that easy.

“When did you draw this?” She asks with furrowed brows, her eyes never leaving the sketch.

I shrug casually even though I am feeling anything but.

“A while ago.”

Her eyes come up to meet mine and a million questions flicker through them. Questions she shouldn’t be asking. Questions I have no business answering. Breaking our eye contact roughly, I turn to the pot of boiling noodles and stir.

The noodles look to be done so I reach into one of the cabinets and grab a colander before I strain the noodles over the sink and mix the cheese sauce into the pot. I reach my hand out for Seraphina to hand me her bowl. When she does, her fingers brush against me and I can’t help but look over to her as a warmth that I haven’t felt in so long spreads across my skin.

She is watching me steadily, not saying a word, not moving an inch. I watch as she swallows roughly, like her throat is suddenly dry. Slowly, I pull my eyes away from hers and dish up, choosing to set her bowl on the counter instead of risk touching her again. I can’t promise that I will continue to do what is best for both of us if she keeps looking at me like she is right now. I definitely won’t be able to if she touches me again.

Once our bowls are full, we sit down at the large dining room table and eat in silence. Seraphina surprisingly has two helpings and damn near licks the bowl clean. It brings a small smile to my face to see her finally eating like a normal human being and not a starving rabbit.

After we finish, she offers to clean up, but I insist on doing it. There are only like 3 dishes anyways. When everything is cleaned, dried and put away, I look to see that Seraphina is sitting on the back porch again. I glance down and notice that my old sketch book is still open to the portrait of Seraphina from all those years ago. Now that I look at it, she is in damn near the exact same position as before. Granted, her face seems to be much more troubled now but there are several good reasons for that.

An idea comes to mind. It is probably stupid, but for some reason I find myself grabbing some pencils and the book as I walk out to the back porch. When I open the sliding glass door, she doesn’t look up. She just keeps staring at the water. It is near sunset and the sky is colored in soft shades of pinks and oranges. I sit down on the bench next to her, keeping enough distance to be appropriate, but close enough so that I can study her closely.

Without saying a word, my pencil starts moving on the paper. I am a little rusty since it has been a while, but it instantly sets me at ease. My pencil strokes are soft mostly with more defined lines to highlight the depth of her waves in her hair and her pert nose. I spend more time than I normally would on her eyes because those things deserve it. They are a kaleidoscope of color, drawing you in from just one look. Though I am not using color I feel like you can practically see the blue in them. Maybe that is just me since I have damn near memorized every fleck of blue in them while growing up.

Seraphina has to know that I am sketching her, I am not trying to hide it and she is not trying to stop me. She sits there unmoving, her chest slightly rising and falling with measured breathes. Her skin is like flawless porcelain with a natural glow that draws you in.Fuck. Say whatever you want about Seraphina Mariano, the woman is fucking captivating.

It isn’t just her looks though. She has turned out to be an incredible woman, though I know I am sure I don’t even know the half of it. These days all I know of her is what my sisters or mother say about her or maybe something that I see or hear while I am playing chauffeur. I act like I am not listening while she casually talks with Seth or Drew, but I am. Always.

Every dinner where she thinks I am not looking at her, I am. Always waiting for her to glance away, just for a moment so that I can steal a look. I have no right to want to look at her, to want to talk to her. I sure as hell have no right to want to be with her. I gave all of that up over 2 years ago.

If you would have told me that the night that we were supposed to have our first date is the same night she met her now boyfriend, I would have called you a fucking liar. But that is exactly what happened. It only solidified that what I did was the right thing for both of us. If I would have gone inside to join the party like I almost did, we probably both would have been heart broken and resentful. It’s better if it is just me.

When I am finished, I look down and am pleased with how the rough sketch came out. I don’t think that I could ever truly capture her beauty fully on paper, but I think that I did a pretty good job. Seraphina finally turns her head to look at me as I turn the paper to face her, keeping my eyes on her to watch her reaction.

Her full lips are slightly parted as she stares down at it almost in awe. “I-Is this what I look like?” She asks softly.

I furrow my brows at the question. I thought it turned out good, maybe she doesn’t agree.

“Yeah. Why? You don’t like it?”

“No, no. It’s just that, I-I look so beautiful in this.”

Her eyes glance down at the sketch once more before coming back up to me. Going against my better judgement of biting my tongue, I do the stupidest fucking thing and speak my mind.

“You are so beautiful.”

I hear her breath softly catch, my words clearly taking her by surprise. Her tongue softly wets her bottom lip before it darts back into her mouth. The movement alone has me wanting to chase down that tongue. To taste that tongue.

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