Page 33 of Under My Skin
I chuckle. “See, we’re not so different then.”
She locks eyes with me, and it’s impossible to look away. Her eyes say so much, but I don’t know her well enough to decipher what it means. Which is probably a good thing because there’s a good chance Simon would findthat weird, too.
Lucy blinks, like her thoughts are clearing. “Well, I won’t hold up your Saturday night.” She gets to her feet, pulling her sweater down her arms a little more like she wishes it could keep her hidden.
Following her motion, I stand up, too. “The only thing waiting for me is picking a damn paint color for the apartment upstairs.” Out of the two of us, I’m sure her weekend plans are more exciting—even if it’s just tagging along to whatever Simon’s up to tonight.
Lucy’s stare jumps to the narrow staircase at the back of the shop. “You’re picking a paint color? Now?”
I rub the back of my neck. “To be fair, the swatches have been up for a while. They finished repairing the drywall today, though. So, I’m sure Hal will need me to narrow it down soon.”
She glances over her shoulder at the other artists working, or maybe she’s looking at the busy sidewalk waiting for her outside. When she looks my way again, her eyes flick to the staircase behind me once more. “Can I help?”
Chapter Nineteen
LUCY
Everett’sdark eyebrows pull together. “You want to help me pick a paint color?”
I shrug. The truth is, I’d rather do a lot of things before I deal with anyone in my family again. After leaving my parents’ house, I wandered. Simon and Everett were both at work, and the friends I had before going away to college feel like people from another lifetime. I’d happily catch up with them over coffee, but not like this. Not when the question, “So, what brings you home?” looms around every corner.
So instead, I spent the day exploring the many ways my small town has gotten marginally bigger over the years. Traffic is worse than I remember, but even though the streets are crowded with new booming businesses, most look family-owned. There’s nothing worse than seeing a Starbucks take over every corner, so I’m glad the city has held onto the small business feel.
Everett waits for a response, and I backpedal. He’s been a great buffer between everything going on with my family right now, but I’m not trying to overstay my welcome. “Or I can go,” I say, pointing at the exit over my shoulder.
Everett shakes his head, waving off my concern. “No, I coulduse the help. I’ve been staring at these colors for so long, I’m sick of trying to narrow it down on my own.”
He gestures for me to follow him up the tiny staircase, and I can’t help wondering how old this building is. The stairs creak with every step, and the multicolor wood is filled with imperfections and knots.
Once we reach the top of the stairs, I’m amazed the vintage flooring stretches across every square foot of space. It’s covered in clear plastic, probably to protect it during the renovation, but even in its muted state, I can’t believe how beautiful it is.
“What are these floors?” I don’t bother hiding the wonder in my voice.
Everett perks. “Pretty cool, right? There used to be dirty carpet, and when they ripped it up, that was underneath. My contractor called it tobacco pine.” He scuffs his shoe against the plastic covering. “I’m tempted to see if it’s under the old vinyl in the shop, but that’s a project for a different day.”
My eyes widen. “Oh, I hope so.” Taking in the rest of the space, I ask, “So, this is why you’re living with my brother?”
“Yeah. Hopefully not for much longer.” When I look over at him, he adds, “Not that there’s anything wrong with living with Simon.”
I huff a laugh as I continue my slow walk around the tiny space. “I’m sure there are plenty of things wrong with living with Simon.” With a shrug, I add, “But it’s only natural to want your own space.”
When my eyes meet his again, I realize he’s still standing where I left him, watching me explore. I wonder if us being this alone is weird for him. I mean, technically there’s a shop full of people downstairs, but he’s keeping his distance like he suddenly regrets letting me come up here. With his arms crossed and his thumb lightly tapping his bicep in a rhythmic pattern, he looks guarded and maybe a little anxious.
Why would I make him anxious, though? For me, he’s felt likea pillar these past twenty-four hours. Something solid I can lean on. There’s something about being around him that feels calming—easy.But by the looks of him, I clearly don’t have the same effect.
Trying to ease the one-sided tension, I walk over to the paint swatches taped on the wall. “I take it these are the options?”
He nods before taking one careful step in my direction and gesturing toward the wall. “Those were the ones that stood out to me.”
“Perfect,” I say with a smile and turn back to the colors. None of them are similar which makes it fun. He has a beige, a cool white, a muted green, and a blueish gray by the name of Hale Navy. “This one,” I say, pointing to the dark, dusty blue.
His lips lift. “I should have known.” Taking another step toward the wall, he glances my way. “Just like that? You didn’t even think about it.”
“I don’t need to think about it. That’s the one I like.”
He blinks before taking one final step that lands us side by side. “Yeah, sure. Okay,” he says, still looking at the colors. He scratches some of the stubble on his cheek, and I take the opportunity to appreciate the sharp angle of his jaw. He really is something to look at. No wonder that girl gave him her number.
He’s staring at the wall so intently it pulls a light laugh from my lips. The sound earns me a sideways glance, and I say, “You don’t have to listen to me. I was just telling you which color I like. It’s your apartment. Pick whatever you want.”
