Page 33 of Paint Me Love
Does that mean he feels safe enough in my presence to do it? That he doesn’t need to keep his walls up or pretend? A fluttering shiver racks through me.
“Oh boy. He’s gotten into your head, hasn’t he?”
I gaze into the distance, considering that, then shrug. I’m the one who let him in knowingly, so is he really to blame? I sort of knew what I was getting into—I could’ve nipped this in the bud the moment I found out he was Mystery Guy. But I didn’t. I want to see where this goes, to uncover more of the real him and to explore the head-spinning desire he stirs within me.
“I haven’t done anything that I didn’t want to,” I quickly defend, clenching my hands into fists. Molly comes from a place of worry and care, but I wish she had some more faith in me.
Maybe I’m not the most socially adept, maybe I’m not the best at saying no, but when you find the one person who you are meant to be with, why would you want to turn them down?
“Okay, just… Please, promise me you won’t get too carried away. He might have an ulterior motive, or maybe he’s just bored and needs a distraction. I don’t want you to get hurt because you always try to see the good in people.”
I love Molly. She and her family have always been in my corner, even if we aren’t blood-related. I don’t know how I’ll ever repay their kindness and acceptance.
Also, she’s right. Shitty things have happened to me more than once because of others. But I don’t think anyone is inherently bad—it’s just that the circumstances sometimes force you to do bad things or screw others over. Take my dad’s alcohol problem. He missed mom so much it was the only thing that brought him some peace, even if it ended up destroying our relationship. I tried to support him, to help him get through it, but I wasn’t strong enough. I was sad, lost, and all I did was draw, so in the end, he chose grief instead of me.
I take a deep breath and chase away the stabbing sensation from my chest. I won’t make that mistake again. I won’t let the important things slip through my fingers, even if the path is riddled with obstacles.
“Hello? Dan, where did you go?” Molly’s voice pulls me back to reality.
“Sorry. I don’t think this is just a distraction for him.” It just doesn’t feel that way, his intensity, the determination in his every action, the adoration in his mesmerizing gaze.
I don’t really know Derek Salinger—we’ve only just met—but it feels like he’s already in my corner. It’s hard to explainand I don’t want to give into that feeling fully, because what if Molly is right? I know that some people can take advantage of my willingness to give everyone a chance, but could he really do that? After what happened? Could he have faked everything so far just because he wanted to fuck me?
If it was any other billionaire, I wouldn’t put it past them, but somehow, I don’t think Derek is as rotten as he thinks he is.
“Do you think it’s weird that I haven’t had a boyfriend? Or that I haven’t had sex?” I blurt out, flushing as I remember in vivid detail what Derek did to me. It unleashes a wave of fire that touches every inch of my body, and I am glad that I’m on a call with Molly, because if she was here, she wouldn’t let me off until I explained why I’ve popped a sudden boner.
“Hmm, no, not really. To each their own, you know? You haven’t felt like it, so you didn’t do it. Some people like to mess around casually, others don’t even feel the itch until they find the right person. Or, you know, ever. These are all equally valid.”
She’s right. There is no wrong answer here, everyone is different.
We spend the next fifteen minutes planning our next pizza night. She brings up cutting down on my job hours as she usually does, and this time it gets me thinking. The payout for the mural is more than a third of what I make in a year. And now they also want to sell some of my paintings. Realistically, I could quit one of my part-time jobs, at least for a year, and focus a bit more on painting and building up my online presence.
Is that a good idea though?
“At least think about it, yeah? Like seriously. Cassandra is helping you too, so I think this might really be your golden opportunity, Dan. Don’t be afraid to grab it with both hands! Besides, if you end up on the streets, we will always take you in.”
I shake my head with a smile and bid her goodbye. My afternoon is free, so I spend it painting, trying and failing not to think about Derek Salinger every free moment I get.
Cassandra calls me a few days later.
“Hi, how are you? How’s the new painting coming along? I really like what you did with the light,” she says in her chirp and enthusiastic voice.
I have just showered and was in the middle of drying my hair when she called. I’m still in my bathrobe. “I want to finish it this week if I can. How’s the gallery doing?”
She chuckles. “Better than we expected. I’ve sold another five works. It’s actually why I called—we had a few people inquire about you, so I was wondering if you could answer a couple of questions so we can put together a bio. I’ll send you the list over email, if you are open to it.”
My blood freezes. “Uh, is it a video type of thing or?” I hate those. I don’t know if I could do one.
“I was thinking something on paper, to hang next to your works. Unless you’d prefer a video one?”
“No! Written is good.”
“Great. I’ll send over the questions then. Please email them back to me when you have the time.”
As promised, I get the email right after I hang up. After working with Cassandra for a while, I’ve come to know she’s a very organized and efficient person. She might seem a little cold at first, but she’s nice and caring, always giving me feedback and advice. I like her.
I skim through the questions, happy to see that they are more focused on my works and what inspires me rather than my personal life.
