Page 28 of Stevie
Brooks
Chapter Eleven
“What’s this?” Stevie asks when I set two bags next to her on the couch. I give her a slight shrug before sitting next to her.
“Date night,” she eyes me warily before opening one bag and pulling out the board game.
“And what do you propose we do with this?” She asks with a hint of irritation in her voice.
I chuckle softly. “Well, I propose that you and I play it,” Stevie looks from the game to me and then back at the game again before laughing and shaking her head.
“If you and I play this game, there is a one hundred percent chance I will murder you within ten minutes. Trust me, this is not the date idea you want.” It’s not. I actually had a very different night planned with an expensive restaurant and a carriage ride, but Stevie is having a bad day. Her stomach is bloated, and she is bleeding so severely that I feared she would need to go to the hospital. So, here we are, me trying to make it seem like this was the plan all along so she doesn’t cry while also secretly canceling the driver that should be here any minute. I take the game from her and set it on the floor.
“I figured as much,” I mutter softly as she scoffs.
“And what does that mean?” Ignoring her question, I continue my statement.
“Luckily for you, I always have a Plan B,” I smirk while gesturing towards the other store bag. She opens it, and I see the smirk tugging at her lips, causing her dimple piercings to pop. She pulls out the pack of canvas boards, paint kit, and brushes.
“You can’t be serious? Brooks, there is no way I can paint anything.”
“Well, this will be a crappy experience for you because I am an absolute master with the brush.” I watch her raise her brow skeptically, and I shrug. “I guess only time will tell, Peaches. So what do you say? Are we going to have a paint night?”
“Okay, Dawson, I’ll play.” I watch her situate herself better before looking back at me. “So, what are we going to paint?”
I give her a playful grin as I unwrap the pack of canvas boards. “We’re going to paint each other.”
“Each other?” She asks slowly, and I give her a nod.
“Yep, you and I are going to paint a portrait of each other.”
* * *
“I think they are adorable,” I smirk while staring at the two portraits on the table before going back to get the screws in the wall. Actually, they’re atrocious. As bad as Stevie is at painting—which is horrible—I am a thousand times worse. When I unveiled my masterpiece to her, she thought I was kidding and laughed. She laughed so hard, and when she realized it really was me doing my best, she laughed even harder. So, as punishment, I’m hanging them side by side in the living room once they’re dry. I even printed little paper cards with the titles and “artist name” underneath.
Mine is a painting of her, and I may have taken some… artistic liberties. I gave her a peach for a head that may more closely resemble an orange. Though I made sure to include her dimple piercings, and those fuckers are perfectly level. There’s a messy turquoise swirl over the peach, and she asked if it was a cloud, which is insulting. Obviously, it’s her gorgeous hair. The best part of my painting, though? Her cleavage. We were painting for about… two hours, and I’m sure I spent most of that time paying homage to that glorious chest, much to her horror.
The title of my piece:Resting Peach Face.
This, of course, kicked Stevie’s competitive side into gear, and well… next to the big-titted peach is a painting of a man’s chest with a bear’s head.Un-bear-ableis the title she went with.
“Brooks,” she wheezes between cackles as I set my drill down. “You can’t hang these up! What will people think?”
I shrug as I walk over to her and rub her cheek to remove a spot of paint with my thumb. “You think I care what anyone else in this world thinks besides you? They can be amazed at my art collection, or they can fuck off and be jealous. But it stays here, front and center.”
“Why?” She chuckles lightly, and fuck, I want to kiss her. It’s been hard the last four days. We haven’t so much as fist-bumped since my confession. I’m trying to do this right, do it slow, and make sure she is ready. She’s given me an opportunity to be with her, but I refuse to fuck this up. So, she’s in charge, regardless of how badly I want to claim her mouth.
“Because,” I whisper out, “You are front and center.” I hear the small intake of air pass through her lips. She leans up, and I nearly die when her lips brush across mine.
“That was smooth,” she smiles, and I can’t help but return one.
“Thanks. I’ve been waiting for the right moment to use it.” I chuckle lightly as she laughs again.
“This was fun,” she smiles as I sit on the couch, taking her feet and beginning to massage them. “Oh my god,” she moans as I press my thumbs into her arch.
“Well, what can I say? I’m a fun guy.” Stevie rolls her eyes.
“I was worried I would’ve ruined our date plans tonight. I didn’t expect an at-home date.” There is a silent moment before she pokes me in the chest with her toe. “Of course, you did say you always have a Plan B.”
