Page 65 of Until You're Mine
I set my empty plate on the coffee table. “You’re saying we’ve got some time to kill? Whatever are we going to do?”
“I think you’ve got very selective hearing.”
I kissed her neck and glided my hand up her thigh. Then I reached over her for the remote. I clicked on the TV, and when she set her plate down, I pulled her closer. Later, we’d get to more naked time, but for right now, I was perfectly content with holding her and watching mindless TV.
Within five minutes, my mind was spinning about the future again, and I told myself that maybe we could find a way to make this work full-time. There were galleries here, her family was here, and most importantlyIwas here.
I had less than a month to convince her to stay, and in between all my intense training, I planned to do exactly that.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Brooklyn
My heart beat too fast and my palms dampened. It’d been a while since I’d been so nervous to show my artwork to anyone.
Confidence in that area had always been a struggle for me, but the more I worked on my art, and the more praise I received, the more emboldened I’d become. The medium I used wasn’t conventional, and that made me stand out. In a good way, mostly. Occasionally people shamed me for tearing up books, but I picked most of them out of piles that’d been on their way to the trashcan, and since I wanted the words to reflect the mood of my paintings, I read at least parts of each one before using it.
I spun around in front of the closed bedroom door to the room I was staying in, facing Shane and barring the way. I’d claimed most of my paintings were up north, and that was true, but between hoping for a spot in the Golden City Art Exhibition, being paranoid as hell, and having trouble letting them go, my three favorite pieces traveled with me. The other painting inside was my work-in-progress, one I’d started about the same time I’d also started falling for the guy eyeing me like I was straight-up crazypants.
“It’s true that I have a lot of the same qualities as Superman,” Shane said, “but I can’t actually see through walls. You’re going to have to open that door.”
“One, I don’thaveto do anything, and two…I…well, I thought two would come to me once I started the sentence, but I got nothing.”
“Baby.” He took my hand and intertwined our fingers. “I think you’re amazing, and I know that what you do is going to be amazing. Just have a pinch of faith, and I’ll show you I deserve it.”
All day this guy had been doing this to me. Saying sweet things that made me think…things I shouldn’t be thinking. Hope called to me, promising this time it’d be nicer; that this time, it wouldn’t drop me on my ass, a broken heart filled with distrust for my troubles.
I expelled a long breath then pushed inside the room. While I faked my way through organization skills at work, in my comfy space, things were constantly in disarray. My room looked like a tornado had recently come through, and I spent a ridiculous amount of time searching for things I could never find, whether it was a certain pair of jeans or shoes or that necklace that never had turned up, come to think of it. “Obviously I didn’t know you’d be coming, or I would’ve attempted to straighten up.”
“Then I’m glad you didn’t know. I’d hate to miss out on seeing this.” He lifted a hot pink bra, and I snatched it away. “You’re gonna have to model that for me some time.”
“In your dreams.”
“Oh, it’s definitely making an appearance in my dreams.”
I shook my head, the smile I failed to hold back only encouraging him, no doubt. I led him over piles of laundry and over to my paintings. “This one is my newest. It took me a while to prepare the canvas, and it’s mostly done, but I want to add a few more details.”
The girl on the canvas had a fierce expression, like the world was coming for her and she was preparing to fight for what she wanted. Blue bled from the color of her irises, down her cheek. Like she also knew it might hurt, but it wouldn’t stop her from doing what needed to be done.
I’d splattered different shades of pink here and there, mostly because I liked the pop of color and thought it proved pink didn’t necessarily mean girly or weak or anything people might usually ascribe to it.
“Like I said, it’s not done.” He was staring at it too intently, and a raw, vulnerable sensation unfurled in my chest, so I quickly reached for the others. “These ones are some of my favorites, and I submitted them to be spotlighted at this big art show called the Golden City Art Exhibition, but it was a super long shot, and I haven’t heard, so…”
I hadn’t meant to divulge that tidbit, and disappointment crept in, leaving my organs heavier than they’d been a moment ago. I’d wanted to prove to myself that I was good enough to play in the big leagues. Thanks to my logical side constantly telling me that not many people made a living on their artwork, following my passion hadn’t been easy. To counter that, I reminded myself that I believed in my paintings even if no one else did. I just really, really wanted other people to, because it was hard to live on an income of zero dollars for very long.
Shane squatted down in front of the canvases, moving to the girl wearing the contemplative look, chin propped on her fist. It was meant to encompass that moment right before a big decision or that beat after you’d made one and couldn’t decide if you regretted it. It was the feeling of being torn between two things.
Anyway, that was what it meant to me.
A lot of my paintings focused on eyes, what with them being the windows to the soul and all. Unlike a lot of my pieces, I hadn’t dripped color down from this girl’s eyes. I figured the moment depicted was either before or after the crying. It was also one of my few, relatively colorless pieces, just the sepia tones from the faded book pages.
Silence stretched, spreading the too-exposed sensation along with it.
“Damn, Brooklyn,” Shane said, his voice soft. “I knew they’d be good, but this is…” He made a gesture that encompassed all of the paintings. “This is where you throw your punches.”
I never thought about it that way, but I supposed I channeled everything I felt into them. If I was happy or if I was sad, or if I wanted to evoke a certain emotion. Mine bled onto the canvas, and I hoped other people would feel it, but I could never be sure.
He stood and cupped my cheek. “I love them. I want one in my apartment, over my bed.”
