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better, like pumpkin spice coffee.
The curtains began to shake, momentarily directing my attention away from the window.
“Brutus!” I yelled, grabbing up the cat and cradling him in my arms. “You can’t climb the curtains! You’ll hurt yourself!”
The cat just peered up at me like I was crazy, which was probably true since I was talking to an animal.
With Brutus still cradled in my arms, I continued to watch the leaves swirl around. Something about them practically hypnotized me.
Soon though, it wasn’t the leaves that held my attention.
Light blond hair caught my eye and my eyes followed the man’s quick gait. His head was bowed as the wind tousled his hair. He bundled his coat tighter around himself and blew on his hands for warmth.
He’d been gone for a while. He disappeared a lot. I always wondered where he went, but despite my nosiness I didn’t try to follow him. I figured he was off buying drugs or something and that was information I didn’t want to be privy to. My gut told me that he went somewhere else, though. I knew I should ask—bridge that invisible gap that divided us and kept us from opening up about the ghosts that haunted us.
I watched him until he disappeared inside the building and then I finally pulled myself away from the window.
I set Brutus on the ground and he jumped on the couch, peering at me innocently like he hadn’t just been about to use up one of his nine lives with his acrobatics.
I opened the door and leaned against the jamb.
Caelan’s head snapped up, his eyes connecting with mine, as he topped the steps.
He smiled playfully and I was struck by just how amazing his smile was—even when I knew it was slightly forced.
“Spying on me?” A single brow rose on his forehead as he stopped a few feet away from me.
I shook my head. “You wish.”
His eyes narrowed. “So you’re what…getting some fresh air? I think you have to go outside for that.”
A small laugh escaped me. “No, I was looking out my window at the leaves.”
“At the leaves,” he repeated. “That seems rather boring.”
“Says the man who stares at a blank canvas for hours on end until inspiration strikes.” The more time we spent together, the more I learned about Caelan’s quirks. One of which being, he couldn’t start painting until it ‘felt right’. Sometimes he’d stare at a canvas for only a moment before his hand would start moving, making the necessary dips, curves, and swirls needed to bring about the vision in his head. Other times hours would pass and I’d eventually leave, bored out of my mind. I could never knock his talent though. He was incredible—the kind of artist you read about in fancy magazines and saw their art exhibited in galleries. I knew if Cael ever got his act cleaned up, he could do great things.
He shrugged, my words having done nothing to faze him. “Why don’t I give you an art lesson?”
I gaped. I hadn’t been expecting that.
“Uh…”
“Oh, come on, Sutton,” he chuckled, “it’s just a little paint.”
I finally shrugged. “Okay, why not.” The worst that could happen was he’d be turned off by my lack of artistic ability. Over my shoulder, I called, “Brutus, behave.”
Caelan’s laughter filled the hallway. “Do you always talk to your cat?”
Tilting my head I gave him a significant look as I shut the door. “At least he doesn’t sass me.”
I was surprised when a snort escaped him at my words. Unlocking his apartment, he waved me inside. “So, basically, you’re saying that your cat is better than me.”
“Yep. Buuut,” I sing-songed, “he also tries to climb curtains and kill himself, so…” I trailed off.
“Who’s a bigger pain?” He asked.
“Huh?”
