Page 81 of That Fake Feeling
Mystomach radiates a quiver that makes my heart tremble. “Sure.”
Shequickly puts the lids back on the food containers, places them all back in the box, picks it up, and follows me inside.
Mysweaty hands tremble a little as we walk down the stairs,Roseclose behind me and silent.
Wepass the door to her rooms and head down the next flight.
Istop at the bottom of it.
“Haveyou changed your mind?” she asks quietly.
Ishake my head. “It’shere.”
Shelooks around until her eyes fall on the canvas that seems like it’s bright white until you get close and can make out the swirls of pastel shades.Eachcolor is a slightly different texture depending on how much sandI’dmixed with the oil paint.
Shestares at the painting, motionless, like she can’t quite believe what she’s seeing, even though she’s walked past it several times a day since she’s been here.
Eventuallyshe puts the box of food down on the stair next to her.
Mystomach churns.Shehates it.She’sstruggling to come up with something polite to say.
Asshe straightens, her eyes drift up to meet mine. “Inoticed it the first dayIwas here.Andevery timeIwalk up or down the stairs, this is the one pictureIpause and look at.Everysingle time.Itdraws me in, every single time.”
Rose’swords swirl around my head, my brain struggling to process them, trying to comprehend the idea that my picture could have that effect on someone.Or, more specifically, that anythingI’vedone could have that effect on this very particular someone.
Herchest rises and falls, her breath deepening with every second we look at each other.Hereyes search mine, like she’s trying to figure out who this new person in front of her is.
Butshe’s polite and kind, and maybe she’s just saying it.
“Seriously?”Iask, the word coming out as a half whisper. “Youlike it?”
There’sa pained look in her eye like she can’t believeIdoubt how genuine she is. “Iloved it the momentIsaw it, afterI’dgiven up hauling my suitcase up the stairs.”
Laughinga little,Ishake my head. “Youwere ridiculous trying to carry that thing by yourself.”Ireach out to stroke her arm.
Shesmiles and doesn’t pull away. “Andyou were ridiculous meeting me in your underwear and refusing to get dressed.”
Herskin is velvety and warm, andIneed more of it.Islide my hand up to her shoulder.Sherolls it into my palm asIcup it.
“Iwas trying to make you quit before you started,”Iconfess.
Still, she doesn’t move. “Iknow.”
Mygreediness overwhelms me, andIstroke higher, up the smooth flesh of her neck, and push my fingers into her hairline.
“Butyou didn’t,”Itell her.
“Nope,” she breathes as her eyes drift shut. “Apparently,I’mstill right here.”
Irest my hand on the side of her neck and stroke my thumb along her jaw. “Youare very determined, aren’t you?”
Herhead sinks slightly toward my palm. “WhenIknow whatIwant, yes.”
“Andwhat do you want right now?”
Slowly, her eyelids lift.Andshe takes in the real me standing before her.
HopingtoGodthe almost imperceptible parting of her lips is her answer,Itake a breath and lift her face to meet mine, her mouth to meet mine, her soul to meet mine.
