He doesn’t say anything.
“Do you like her?”
Nada.
“She’s pretty,” I add, pulling teeth.
“She’s not the one I want.”
“So, there is someone! Who do you wa?—”
“And you? What do you do for work?” he intercepts.
“I’m…well…”
How am I supposed to top that? He literally risks his life for a career. It’s a very physically demanding job. Is he going tolaugh when I tell him I paint for a living? Will he say it’s stupid and impractical, just like Liam would?
“Spit it out.”
Here goes nothing.
“I…paint. I’m an artist.” I shut my eyes tight, waiting for him to degrade me. Twisting my face, I wait for the cruel words I’ve grown so accustomed to; they linger in my head with my own voice instead of Liam’s.
You’ll never make it.
No one cares.
You’re not good at this.
It’s just a dream. It’s never going to happen. You’re not good enough.
Give up. Quit.
Colliding with a hard wall interrupts my thoughts. Shit. I open my eyes to find out that the hard wall is actually Gavin’s chest. I lose my footing, letting out a high-pitched yelp. I’m falling over; the pile of sheds I was holding onto is now airborne—getting flung into the air. Gavin slings his arm forward, firmly coiling around my waist. I lurch for his other arm, barely able to hook my hand around him when I’m anchoring him down with me to the floor. Before I can hit the ground, his hand curls around the back of my head, so I land in his palm instead of a log.
Grunting, the air gets knocked out of me. Gavin’s on top of me, his chest on mine, his knees settling in between my inner thighs, the tip of his nose softly brushing against mine.
“I’m sorry,” I murmur, suddenly unable to breathe when he’s this close. I can’t think straight.
“You’re an artist?”
“Mhm,” I hum.
“I think that’s amazing, Cora. You have a gift. Don’t ever stop.”
“But you haven’t seen any pieces.”
“Don’t need to.”
Hearing those words fall out of his mouth so effortlessly feels so good. A sting hits my eyes. I try so hard to create—to be different. Art is how I stay alive when I feel so dead sometimes.
“I don’t want to stop,” I breathe, zeroing in on his full lips, practically begging him to make a move. Screw it. I want to let myself be happy.
Kiss me.
As if he can read my thoughts, he leans closer, his cool breath ghosting over mine. His lids lazily fall over his deep blue irises. They’re glowing, but this time, I don’t see pain.
He pushes his fingers through my hair, and just when I think he’s going to seal his lips on mine, he pulls out a twig from my curls, killing the moment.
