Page 106 of The Originals


Font Size:  

“Not true.”

“No, really,” he says. “You do. Hey, want to go see the studio?”

“Yes!” I say enthusiastically.

At the shoe pile by the front door, Sean digs through a few strays until he finds what he’s looking for: hideous green foam shoes. I make a face.

“What? Dislike?” he asks with a little laugh.

“Why do you own those?” I ask, frowning. “You look… I mean… they’re the worst.”

“I know,” he says, laughing again. “They’re hot. I’m going to wear them to school on Monday.”

“No!” I say. “You’ll be banned!”

I shove my own feet into my flats even though I’m still wearing the oversized socks. The extra material bunches up at the sides and makes my feet look like I’m retaining massive amounts of water.

“I guess we both look like fashion don’ts,” I say.

“Great, let’s go.” He takes my hand and leads me out of the house, carefully closing the door behind us so Dumptruck doesn’t get out.

“They’re for cooking,” Sean says as we walk down the steps.

“What’s for cooking?”

“My shoes. Cooking requires long periods of standing up. These are comfortable when I cook.” He leads me around the side of the house and to the back toward a detached garage.

“They’re still hideous,” I say, shaking my head, wondering whether I like him more for liking to cook or for having special shoes to do it.

“All the famous chefs wear them.” Sean opens the people door next to the double garage door and waves me through.

“Hideous,” I say with one last look at his feet. “I mean, seriously, why—”

Sean pulls me close and kisses me sweetly right there in the doorway. “Shh,” he says, lips still pressed against mine. His face pulls back an inch but his arms hold me tight. I feel him doing something with his feet, then he gets a little shorter like he just kicked off his shoes. Our bodies still stuck like Velcro, Sean pats my right leg. “Lift up your leg.” I do, and he worms his toes into the heel of my shoe so it pops off. Then somehow without looking, he kicks his shoe under me in the right direction. “Step in,” he says. He goes through the same process with the other foot, all while maintaining the hug hold. Finally, when I’m in shoes and he’s not, he pulls his face back another inch and raises his eyebrows at me.

“So?” he asks.

I roll my eyes dramatically, Ella-style.

“Fine,” I say. “They’re comfortable.”

Inside the garage, I immediately forget that I’m in a garage. Walls have been constructed to divide the space, and everything is finished and painted; it’s heated, warm, and inviting. We walk into the front reception area, where the floor has bright carpet tiles in every color and the walls are covered floor to ceiling with massive framed photos: students, babies, people getting married, landscapes, animals.

“Is that you?” I ask, pointing to a gigantic shot of a smiling, chubby baby in a basket.

“No,” Sean says, looking embarrassed.

“Liar,” I say, turning to inspect the photos on the wall by the door.

“Your mom’s insanely good,” I say, admiring a close-up of the wrinkles on an old man’s face. “Wow,” I murmur. “I love this.” I reach out but don’t touch a portrait of Dumptruck.

My eyes travel up the wall; I jump when I recognize my own face staring back at me. It’s a close-up and my dark eyes are huge; my hair is blown back like I’m a model. It’s beautiful and cringe-worthy at the same time.

“That’s my favorite one,” Sean says, walking up behind me.

“It’s really…” I say, my voice trailing off, not sure how to express how I feel. Instead, I say something else. “It’s nice of your mom to let you hang it in her studio.”

“Yeah,” Sean says. “That’s my wall.”

Source: www.allfreenovel.com
Articles you may like