I clutch the book closer to my chest. “No, it’s personal.” His gaze wanders on my fingers and nails darkened by the charcoal. I immediately hide them behind my back, looking shamefaced. “I tend to get dirty when I draw or paint.”
“I’m working with mechanics and cars, having your hands dirty is sexy in my world,” he drops in a confidence impossible to resist.
I untie the knot of my top to cover my belly and lay a strand of my hair behind my ear. There is no one like Aaron to make you feel sexy in the worst possible moments. This is dangerous, I don’t have for habits to expose my true self to someone.
He laughs. “You’ve got lead on your cheek.”
Aaron steps toward me like a tiger, reducing the distance between us. He brushes the charcoal on my cheek with his thumb in a caring and soft gesture. I look up, meeting the blue ocean of his eyes focused on his task.
He pulls away, and I do what I do best—pretending Wolf’s touch isn’t getting to me. “Thank you.”
“You can thank me by showing me what you’ve been drawing.” His fingers trail a path along my arms, to my hands, until my sketchbook.
“It’s far from finished. Plus, I’m doing this just for fun,” I lie. But when Wolf doesn’t move, I know he won’t give up. Would it be so bad if he sees it? Yes.He could see a piece of your soul.No. Who cares what he thinks?This way, he’ll probably lose interest and you’ll be able to kiss goodbye to that unwanted attraction.
I hand him my sketchbook, before biting my nails while he inspects each of my drawings. Is he pretending to be captivated? As he keeps on turning pages, taking his time, my nervousness hits another level. “I told you, I’m not that good.”
“I think it’s amazing. You’re talented, Elle,” he answers instantly.
“Really?” My eyes open with bewilderment.
He hands me back my sketchbook. “Yes, really. You shouldn’t be shy to show them to the world.”
“It won’t interest anyone.”
“Well, it interests me. And I’m hard to please.” A hint of a smile curves on his too appealing lips. “I had a question. Why did you become a columnist? Was it your dream?”
I think about his question, his interest leaving me confused. No one ever asked me what my dream was. Truth is, writing about gossips is far from what I expected it’d be, but it pays well, and pleased my mother at first. I’ve never liked to report dirt, but I did have an interest in human nature. I thought if I could understand the people around me, I could prevent myself from not being broken again. It obviously didn’t work out.
“I guess I wanted to connect with people, learn to get to know them. I mean, sometimes you just want to forget yourself, and have a glimpse of someone’s else life.”That’s overshared, Elle. And pathetic. “It’s less risky, while you can live an adventure through words.”
“You have to take risks in life, otherwise you’re already dead. But you didn’t answer me. Was it your dream?”
“An artist,” I state. “My dream was to be an artist. But I know it’s an unrealistic one.” I wanted to create beauty out of nowhere. To enliven broken things—as I couldn’t fix myself. To leave a trace. For my art—and I—to matter. But, art is sharing a part of yourself to the world, and that I’m not ready to do. Not only it wasn’t good enough, but dreams don’t pay rent. Plus, inspiration can betray you at any moment.
“It’s unrealistic because you believe it is. You’re good, Elle.”
I brush him off, uncomfortable to talk about my wants and needs. I made a decision and I’m sticking to it. “Anyway, that’s in the past. I’m pretty happy with my life and job, just as it is.”Am I, really?
“If you change your mind, I won’t mind posing naked for you.” His voice sounds too husky for his playful tone.
“I doubt your ego could fit on the canvas,” I tease him.
“My ego isn’t the only thing who will struggle to fit in,ma belle.”
Oh. My.I decide to ignore that comment. “Well, you owe me an interview, Wolf, remember?” I point at the camera set in place.
“Fine, let’s get this over with.” He clenches his jaw, clearly not hiding his lack of enthusiasm.
Wolf takes a seat. I roll the camera before sitting in front of him, taking my notes with me. “Ok, so, I’m gonna ask you the most popular questions I got.”
I clear my throat, taking my professional voice. “One, what’s your pre-race routine?”
“I focus on the race to come, visualize the track and my win, while listening to music. It’s important to build your focus before a race,” he explains in his usual cold, detached tone, crossing his arms on his chest.
During the following questions, Wolf keeps his mask of theHeartless raceron, as if he fears to show an ounce of humanity that could be held up against him. “Your favorite quote?”
“I’ll go with Rocky Balboa; ‘It ain’t about how hard you hit, it’s about how hard you can get hit and keep moving forward’.”
