Page 17 of Love in the Darkness

“Yes. I’m always in front of a computer, so I try to walk outside for at least half an hour to an hour a day. Sometimes I dictate notes into my phone as I go, but often I try to completely unplug and stare at flowers. Window displays. Whatever.”

“You’ll be able to do that again soon,” he said sweetly. “If your eyes are still a bit sensitive to the light, you’ll have to go in the evening instead of noon.”

“I usually go walking at night,” I said. “Around eight or nine is a good time.”

He was quiet for a moment. “You stay in well-lit areas with lots of people around, don’t you?”

I couldn’t stop my grin. “Why do you ask?”

He picked up my hand and gave it a little shake. “You can’t blame me for going into overprotective mode when I think of a lovely young girl walking around alone at night. You know there are creeps in this world.”

I cocked my head, grinning. “I know. I stay on the main streets, with tons of streetlights. I figure anywhere there are people with strollers, or little old ladies with shopping carts, it’s probably a good area.”

He chuckled, releasing my hand suddenly as if he hadn’t realized still been holding it. “Good. I knew you were a smart girl.” Liam paused. “From the looks of your bookshelves, you’re a very smart girl. You must miss reading.”

“Yeah. I’ve had to read less and less, saving my eyes for my classes for the past few months.”

“What are you taking?”

“Psychology and art history.”

There was a pause before he said, “That’s a weird combination, isn’t it?”

I laughed, realizing that he made me laugh and smile more than anyone else had in the past year.

“My angle is that art is often used to display the subconscious mind. So as art has changed through the ages, it loosely mirrors the underlying thoughts of humanity at the time. Sometimes it’s even specific from country to country, or city to city. People paint their thoughts, sometimes unconsciously.”

“Interesting. So what does it mean that there are so many paintings of a bowl of fruit?”

“That some people are unimaginative. Or that others want to establish themselves by being experts in the classics. Sometimes the content says more about the artist’s desires than their subconscious thoughts.”

There was another pause, as Liam leaned back, settling into the couch. I felt it shift a bit, and found myself leaning back as well, tucking my heels up under me.

“If you’re an art expert…”

“I’m not. Not at all,” I interrupted.

He chuckled. “Okay, I’ll rephrase. As someone who studies art…”

“Much better. Proceed.”

“What do you think about tattoos? Do you consider them art?”

I nodded. “Absolutely. Tattoos are incredibly personal. Art that you have selected for another artist to create on your body to wear forever. Mind you, some people just go and pick a design off the wall. Personally, I don’t understand that. But some people work with the artist to plan a complete piece. It’s living art that moves with you, grows with you, and sometimes begins to define you as a person.” I grinned. “I actually really love tattoos. I just haven’t found a symbol yet that’s personal enough for me to want to make it permanent.”

A low sigh of relief floated my way. Laughing hard, I choked out, “Well, you just got my honest opinion – whether you have no tattoos, or you’re covered from head to toe.”

I could almost feel him smiling, and wanted so badly to lean forward and curl up in his lap while we talked. The urges I was feeling toward him were strange, and far more intense than I would have ever imagined.

“Yes, I have some tattoos.”

I paused, then shook my head. “If I’m making an expression of extreme annoyance, it’s because I can hear the tension in your voice, and don’t know if you’re kidding, or keeping something from me. So I’m going to assume that you have a gigantic cartoon kitty across your face, and just picture that.”

His laugh was so sexy. Deep and rumbling. Again, I had a powerful desire to curl into his chest.

I had known this week would be difficult, but this was becoming more than frustrating. It was exhausting and obnoxious sometimes. Now, on top of everything, I was aroused beyond belief, and not able to throw myself at the object of my desire.

Being sort of trapped with Liam, if it turned out he didn’t feel the same way, the awkwardness might eat me alive.

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