Page 30 of Beneath Your Beautiful
“Does it work on everyone?” I asked.
“That remains to be seen,” he said cryptically. “Some people need to be bashed over the head a few times before they see the light.
“Sounds violent. Are you doing the bashing?”
“I’m a lover, not a fighter.”
“You’ve got some pretty big muscles,” I pointed out.
He grinned. “For display purposes only.”
It had been a long night, and we didn’t lock up until four in the morning, but like all the nights I worked, I was running on adrenaline and I knew sleep would be impossible.
“Can I do a sketch of your face?” I asked Killian as we walked to his Jeep in the purple light of the moon.
He looked at me like I was crazy. I couldn’t blame him. I surprised myself by asking. “Why?”
“You have an interesting face. And it’s not unattractive.” He snorted. “Will you let me do it?”
He narrowed his eyes, considering my request. “No.”
“Are you scared?” I asked, trying out some of that reverse psychology. He didn’t respond. If he was scared, that made two of us. It’s an intimate thing to sketch someone’s face. Maybe he didn’t want me looking that closely. Maybe he had a lot to hide. I could almost see his brain ticking over, and I sensed he might be persuaded to change his mind. “All you need to do is sit on my sofa and chill out. It’ll be like we’re hanging out.” I threw in a please for good measure.
He pulled up outside my building and gripped his upper lip between his teeth, weighing the pros and cons of letting this crazy girl get a glimpse of his soul. “You really want to do this?”
“Yes, I really do.”
“Okay.” He sounded uncertain, but I wasn’t about to give him a chance to change his mind.
When we got inside my apartment, I flicked on the floor lamp with a dimmer switch that cast a soft pool of light on the room. My apartment felt stuffy, and I always thought this city was noisy, but it was suddenly too quiet. I opened the two windows facing the street and scrolled through my playlists. Nothing felt right so I hit random shuffle and left it to chance. The Fray’s “How to Save a Life” came on. Good choice? Bad choice? Kind of a downer, maybe, but I left it playing. Killian was standing at the window, looking outside, with his hands stuffed in the front pockets of his jeans.
“Just make yourself comfortable on my one piece of furniture. I’ll be right back.”
He nodded but didn’t move from the window and all I had was a view of his back, and the rigid set of his shoulders. I escaped to my bedroom, closed the door, and dumped my bag on the floor. Why was I doing this, I wondered, as I changed into shorts and my favorite blue T-shirt, soft and faded from too many washings.
Taking a few deep breaths to calm myself, I gathered up my sketchbook, eraser, and pencils and walked into the living room.
Killian was standing behind my easel, studying the painting I’d been working on. He looked over at me and I felt so exposed I might as well be naked. “Not what I expected.”
“What did you expect? Unicorns and smiley faces?”
He shrugged. “I don’t know.” He returned his gaze to my painting. “You like all the dark colors and the blues.”
“I guess those are my favorite colors.” I’d used a lot of different blues, bottle green and mossy green, black and shades of gray.
“Mine too. But I like that there’s some hope there. With the burst of yellow.”
I stared at him a few seconds, but he kept his gaze fixed on the painting, and he kept his face shuttered, so I had no idea what he was thinking. But it was interesting he’d seen hope in the citrusy yellow, and he’d commented on it. “That’s the sun coming through.”
He smiled, and it was just like the sun coming through, lighting up the drabs and dark colors, warming me up from the inside. I didn’t mention that the painting was him, or rather, it reminded me of him. That would probably freak him out or send him running. I also didn’t mention that I’d painted a few abstracts that reflected the way he made me feel, as if my paintings would somehow reveal everything he kept hidden.
“If you want to paint over it, feel free. Throw some glitter and fairy dust on it.”
“I like it as it is,” he said quietly. “I like it a lot.”
And I like you a lot. Even with your dark colors and the drabs and the blues, there are moments when you shine, and let the light in, and it’s so beautiful to watch.
“Thanks.” It suddenly felt like the room was too small for both of us. He filled all the empty space and I just stood there, staring at him. Which it seemed I did a lot. Sometimes his looks still caught me off guard. In his fitted white T-shirt and faded jeans, the beat-up combat boots I loved. His dark hair unruly and tousled like he’d been running his hands through it. He looked like dirty sex and hidden pleasures. He radiated heat and tension and danger. Maybe he wasn’t the kind of guy I should want or crave, probably the worst possible choice for me, but it didn’t stop me from wanting him. He was right here, so close, yet so unreachable. Which always seemed to be the way with him.
