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She leaned into my touch. “What have you been up to?”
“Exploring,” I said, though I couldn’t hide the irritation in my voice. “Are you really going to auction off your drawing? You can’t.”
“Why not?”
“I don’t want some asshole buying it.”
She arched a questioning eyebrow.
“I met Colin Mann.”
“Oh.” The word contained volumes, but she only shrugged. “It’s just a picture. I could always draw more.”
“But that’s us—”
With her index finger on my lips, she kissed the corner of my mouth, effectively ending the argument, and Simon took his place behind a small podium, announcing he would begin the auction, but first, he brought a woman to the stage. She introduced herself as Elizabeth, the president of Artist Point, and gave a short speech on the history of the charity, thanking a few important people, Gemma being one of them. I held her a little tighter.
The first piece of art auctioned off was a small oil painting, followed by a lot of uninteresting landscapes. Gemma explained the nuances of color and different mediums used in each work before, finally, her picture was put on the block. The bidding quickly escalated to a few hundred, but it was Colin who upped the ante to one thousand dollars.
“Fifteen hundred,” I pronounced loudly. Gemma tugged on my hand, but I ignored her. The crowd watched with rapt attention as Colin and I warred, the tension growing higher with each rising number. A collective gasp resounded over the room when the newscaster bid three thousand dollars.
I was about to raise my hand, but Gemma grabbed it. “Enough. Stop.”
Simon started counting down, and my gaze darted between her picture, Colin, and back to Gemma. “I don’t want him to have it.”
She held my face between her hands, forcing my eyes to hers. “You have me, Jason. You have nothing to prove to him. You have me.”
Simon awarded the prize to Colin, who was asked to come onstage so everyone could acknowledge his generous contribution to the charity. He waved to his audience, an arrogant smile plastered across his face, and I let out an angry growl. Gemma repeated her statement, pulling my arms around her waist.
Toward the end of the auction, the paintings by the students were offered up. Even though their work was only being auctioned for fun, the kids took it quite seriously, especially Cole, who whooped in delight at the front of the stage.
My animosity to Colin, my pride in Gemma, and my friendship with Cole had me raising my hand to point at Cole’s landscape. “Five hundred dollars.”
“Wow!” Cole shouted. “I’m rich.”
The room broke out in laughter. His parents quickly tried to correct him, explaining he didn’t receive the five hundred dollars; it went to the charity.
“Sorry, buddy.” I patted his back. “But your painting is going to look great on my wall.” Cole ran up to the podium to snatch his artwork from Simon’s hands and happily handed it over to me. “I will take good care of it,” I promised as Gemma eased her hand around my elbow, towing me to a quiet corner.
“You didn’t have to do that.” She wound her hands winding into my hair telling a different story.
“Yes, I did. Cole’s your student, and if I can’t have your work because—” I stopped short, wanting to put Colin Mann out of my head. “You are in this too,” I said, pointing to Cole’s painting. “You’re in all those kids’ works. They love you and—”
“I love you.”
I froze at her blurted words. “What did you say?”
She dragged her fingers down my jaw, over my shoulder, to rest in the middle of my chest. “I love you.”
I enclosed her cheeks in my hands, my thumbs stroking her cheekbones, nose, and lips. I touched every part of her face, memorizing it with my fingertips. If I could, I’d sculpt her out of clay, show her how beautiful she was. Show her what she looked like through my eyes. “I love you too.” My words left my lungs with a rush of air, breathing life into them. “I love you.”
Then we kissed. A sweet yet timid first kiss of two people who loved each other, and when we broke apart, smiling like two idiots in love, I laughed. And then she laughed. And then we kissed again.
After a moment, Gemma backed away from me. She had that twinkle in her eyes.
“Come on.” She pulled me down a flight of steps to the first floor and ducked into a deserted hall with offices. She tugged me into a small conference room with a square table and chairs, then locked the door behind us. I immediately took her in my arms, hoisting her onto the table, devouring her pleas with my mouth. My teeth bit at her neck, fingers dug into her waist. She hooked her fingers under my waistband, but I stopped her hand from moving lower. “I don’t have a condom.”
“I don’t care. I love you. I need you. Now.”
