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Without even thinking about it I snort in response and he raises an eyebrow at me.
“My father… Not much to say. Having a pansexual artist son wasn’t what the prestigious lawyer from the valley had in mind, so… Now I don’t have a father.”
“Shit man. What about your mom?”
“We still talk, but she’s team dad so…”
“Well,” he drops one hand to my thigh, “I know it’s not helpful, but I think you’re pretty fucking perfect the way you are.”
My heart clenches in my chest at his statement, because he’s wrong. It’s not only helpful, it’s everything.
“Do you feel that?” I look side to side, as I hop out of the passenger seat of Zeke’s pickup, but nothing stands out. There’s nothing seemingly out of the ordinary. Cars drive by, there are people walking their dogs, the sun is shining, the snow is melting, and none of it is even remotely suspicious. So why do I feel like we’re being watched?
“Feel what?” Zeke rounds the front of the truck, coming up next to me on the sidewalk.
“I dunno, just, like someone is watching? Never mind, I’m just being paranoid,” I wave it off, because it’s the truth. I’m sure this is just what any normal person would feel like after watching someone they care about nearly bleed to death after being shot out in the open. My senses are simply all out of whack.
Turning to the right, I pull my keys from my pocket, “This is me.”
Zeke reaches up and runs his hands through his hair, “I mean, now that you mentioned it… When we went to my place last week, I had the same feeling, but I guess I just figured the same thing. That I was being paranoid.”
The lock clicks and I push the door, holding it open for Zeke to walk inside. I look around one more time before slipping in behind him and locking the door from the inside. I’ve been wearing Riot’s clothes since the shooting, and as much as he thinks I look adorable in his sweats, I need to collect some of my things if I’ll be staying for any longer. Plus, I really need some of my supplies. I don’t need to bring it all, but without my paints and brushes, I may as well be an entirely new human being.
“Whoa,” Zeke’s voice echoes from down the hall and I hustle up the steps to meet him. “This… this is you?” he turns to face me, his expression painted in disbelief.
“Yeah,” I shift uncomfortably. No one has really seen my unfinished art except for the night Riot showed up on my doorstep. “I told you… the napkin drawing, just a silly little doodle.”
“I mean, shit, yeah. Compared to these anyway,” he wanders over to the easel where I left an unfinished ocean scene from before that fateful night.
“Eh, those are okay. I’ve mostly just been working on commissions lately, and everyone wants the same thing,” I sigh, tossing my keys onto the kitchen counter. “It’s actually a really defeating feeling.”
Striding across the room, I open the closet and start pulling some items off of hangers, tossing them onto my mattress one at a time. I took some time away from the bar, and Spencer understood. I needed some time to wrap my head around everything that happened and everything that’s happening now. But tomorrow night Spencer has plans with Travis, so I’m working the closing shift with Gigi.
“So… what about this?”
“Hmm? Oh, that, I.. Uh… The urge just struck. I haven’t worked with spray paints in a while and I dunno. I was working on it before everything went down. Maybe when everything settles a little, I’ll be able to go back to it.”
“Mmm. It’s really good. I mean shit, is there a medium you’re not any good with?” he chuckles.
Tossing the last item of clothing to the bed, I walk toward Zeke grinning. I’m not really sure what’s coming over me, but there’s no reining it in. I’m standing so close to him, that I can almost taste the vetiver and tangerine notes in his cologne dancing on my tongue. Walking my fingers up his chest, I watch as his Adam's apple bobs when he swallows, almost nervously.
Am I making him nervous?
Sliding my hand up his neck, I trace his intricate tattoos with my fingertips, walking him backward until he’s pressed against the window.
“Well, I’m sure I’m no good with a tattoo machine. Not like you… You’re an artistic genius Zeke. Your work… it’s breathtaking.”
I’m not sure where all this nerve is coming from, because it’s not me, not even a little bit, but something in Zeke calls to me, and I’m really tired of ignoring those little moments. Especially when we can all be so much more.
“Th-” he stops and clears his throat, “Thank you.”
“I’ve really loved watching you in your element.”
“I - thanks.”
“It’s mesmerizing,” I whisper, my lips hovering just above his. He doesn’t try to put a stop to my advances, and being in such close proximity with Zeke Adams and all of his intelligence, confidence, and talent, I find that I’m not able to stop myself either.
Butterflies swim through my stomach and I’m pretty sure I can’t tell up from down anymore, and all I’m doing is inhaling him. It makes no sense. There’s no logic to the way that he’s making me feel.
