Page 17 of Lovers in Lockdown

I laugh. ‘Go on then, Miss Almost Perfect. Whatareyou a master of?’

She shoves a forkful of rice noodles into her mouth and swallows, her eyes assessing my face like she can’t decide whether or not to tell me.

After a lengthy pause, she shrugs. ‘I paint.’

Huh. I don’t know what I was expecting, but that wasn’t it. She just doesn’t strike me as an artsy type. Maybe a lawyer or salesperson or something that allows her to make a lot of noise and shout at people all day. Painting requires a level of quiet and patience that I just didn’t think Honey was capable of.

Clearly, I was wrong.

‘What kind of stuff do you paint?’ I ask, genuinely interested.

‘Portraits.’

‘Of yourself?’

‘Not really. I’ve done a couple, but they’ve never turned out that great. I just find other people’s faces more interesting than mine, you know?’

No, I don’t know. I think Honey has the most interesting face I have ever seen, even on days like this when she looks like Albert Einstein with her hair sticking out every which way. If I had any creative abilities at all, I would spend all day painting the deep creases of her bottom lip or the permanent twinkle of mischief in her indigo eyes.

‘Do you get people to sit for you?’ I ask. ‘Like all those portraits of Henry VIII or Jack in Titanic with his French girls?’

She blushes. ‘Um, no, not really. I’ve done a few commissioned portraits like that, but I prefer painting people in candid moments. I just like the honesty of their expressions and stuff. They’re just more truthful, I guess. I don’t know, I’m probably not even making any sense.’

Her skin is flushed and she speaks quickly, like this conversation is making her uncomfortable. I’m surprised to hear her sound so timid when she’s usually the complete opposite.

‘It makes perfect sense,’ I assure her gently.

And it does. The way she talks about her work is more revealing than she realises. I can tell through her bashfulness that she’s good at what she does. Experience has taught me that people with the most talent are usually the most hesitant to admit it.

Honey smiles self-consciously and turns her face away. It makes me want to reach out and touch her cheek again. It makes me want to tell her she’s beautiful until her normal bright smile returns. It makes me want to kiss her until I’m breathless and my lips are sore.

Shy Honey is dangerous.

‘Is painting what you do for work?’ I ask to distract myself.

‘Ish.’

‘Ish?’

‘I teach art in a community centre to disadvantaged kids.’

Well fuck me sideways, I’ve misjudged her.

How wrong I was for thinking that she was a salesman, or a lawyer… or a prison officer. Yeah, regretfully that thought crossed my mind three days ago when she yelled at me for not replacing the empty toilet roll.

‘Wow,’ I whisper. ‘That’s incredible. Do you enjoy it?’

‘Yeah,’ she grins. ‘Basically, all we do is make a lot of mess. There’s no pressure to create a masterpiece or anything, although some of the kids are actually really talented. But it’s just the best thing ever to watch them having fun.’

Oh, good God, I’m screwed.

This woman has affected me more in a week than any other woman I’ve met in my lifetime. She’s a deadly combination of kindness and beauty, and I can no longer trust myself around her.

Because now I don’t only have a constant boner to contend with, I’m horny for her heart as well.

CHAPTER NINE

Honey

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