Текст книги "Truth in Watercolors"

Автор книги: Kimberly Rose

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Текущая страница: 9 (всего у книги 16 страниц)

“Some people have to work, you know!” I shouted down from my balcony to the group of college kids making a ruckus in my complex courtyard. Moving into my Pacific Beach pad a few years ago was the perfect idea. I was young, just rented my first place, and looking to party.

Things were different for me now. I still liked to have a good time, but I had responsibilities. Maybe it was time I moved. I drummed my fingers on the banister. My business was good, great even, so I could afford something a little bigger in quieter neighborhood with better airflow. Fuck, this courtyard gets no air.

I pinched my shirt between my fingers and fanned my chest with it. I didn’t have much, so it wouldn’t take me long to pack up. Maybe just a load or two with August’s truck would do it. Whew, it’s hot. “Turn the grill down, too!” I shouted. “I can feel its heat rays all the way up here for crying out loud.”

“Dude, there’s never anywhere to park here.” August’s bitching announced his arrival.

“I know. I think I need to move,” I said reaching for the handle to slide the door shut, but my hand slipped on the metal. Instead, I stuck my foot to the glass and kicked it closed.

“You think?” August busied himself putting a twelve pack into my fridge.

“Make sure you put those in a row.” I peeked over his shoulder and swiped one from his hand. He glared over his shoulder at me.

“God, you’re weird sometimes.”

I shrugged my shoulder and twisted off the cap. I liked my stuff neat and tidy. There was nothing wrong with that.

We each sat back into my sofa, but a little too close. “Dude, scoot down. I know you’re my brouse, but I don’t wanna feel your leg hairs tango with mine.”

August huffed and shifted down toward the far end. “What on Earth is a brouse?”

“Bro spouse. Homie.” I grinned and held my beer up to him. He laughed and cheered back.

“So, you moving?” he asked after a sip.

“Nope,” I said before taking a sip. “Girls at your place?” I asked knowing exactly where Capri was. She’d reduced me to a stalker. If she wasn’t with me, I wanted to know where she was or what she was doing. I liked hearing about her day.

“Yeah, they’re planning the joint bachelor/bachelorette party, I guess.” He propped his dirty shoe on the edge of my coffee table.

“Whoa. Joint?” I asked kicking his foot off the table I just polished today. C’mon, dude.

He squinted at me and took another swig. “Yeah. It’s just the five of us, anyway. Besides you can spend quality time with my sister.” He put both of his feet up on the table. Fucker.

“Yeah, that’s true,” I said giving both feet a stiff kick. He winced with a curse, and I relaxed back into the couch. “I mean, it would be nice to see her,” I clarified, but August wasn’t buying it. He eyed me skeptically then set his beer on the table and leaned onto his knees.

“About Capri,” he started, as I swooped in with a coaster under his beer. Seriously? This fool was an animal.

“I’ve been meaning to speak with you about my intentions with your sister.” I set my beer down, on a fuckin’ coaster.

August held his hand up quickly, “Dude, I don’t want to know everything. I just want to make sure you know how special she is.”

“I know, August.” I’d always known, but after what happened at Blue’s house, something changed. I still haven’t figured out what, but I’d spent the last few days twisted. A part of me fell open that day to Capri, and I had no control over it. Feelings of panic and peace had been cage fighting in my chest ever since.

“She’s different, August. Things with her, they’re different from anything I’ve ever had before. I’m not sure I can even explain it, but she’s kind of become everything to me, you know?” I ran my hands through my hair and bounced my heels on the floor. This admission was huge for me. It wasn’t every day I allowed myself to get attached to someone, and even though I’d attached myself to the Hunter family a long time ago, this was different. The step from friends to more felt like the first time the tattoo needle hit my skin. There was no going back.

“I do know, actually.” August smiled at me.

I nodded and sat back into the couch, relieved. Of course, he knew. He had Kensie.

Holy shit.

“You have Kensie!” I sat forward again.

“I do.” August smiled calmly, and a little too confidently for my taste.

“You have Kensie, dude. I have Capri. You and Kensie.” I pointed at August. “Me and Capri.” I dug my thumb into my chest.

“Yep.” August laughed. “Does she know?”

“Well, yeah. I think. I mean. She kisses me, and the other day she crawled into my lap.”

August threw his hands in the air choking on his beer. “Wes. I just wanted to know if she knows that is the real deal for you. No details, please.”

“Right.” I nodded and leaned forward to pull my phone from my pocket.

“What are you doing?” He asked.

“Making sure she knows,” I answered typing in my text.

Me: You’re mine

Capri: I am.

Fuck, yeah. I jumped to my feet and shuffled around the floor. August laughed his ass off. Funny, ‘cause I did the same when he danced, only because he looked like a dumbass.

Capri: You’re mine too then.

Me: Yours, baby.

I typed back grinning like a fool. “She knows,” I told August bouncing back into the couch.

“Good.” He smiled.

Girls’ night, I needed this. I had so much to catch Kensie and Lennon up on. I wasn’t sure how, though. I’d spent so many years containing all of my thoughts behind my tongue. It was easier to stay hidden when I didn’t speak up. Since spending time with Wes though, I had a sudden urge to test my limits.

“I dropped out of school,” I blurted to the girls as they busied themselves making margaritas.

“What?” Kensie shouted over the blender. Okay, I hid my voice behind the crushing of ice. I should get points for effort. She turned it off and popped the lid. “What did you say, Capri?” She glanced over her shoulder at me before taking one of the slices of lime Lennon was cutting.

“I dropped out of school,” I said again. Kensie’s mouth dropped open with the falling of the lime wedge into the blender. Lennon’s reaction was to chuck a full lime across the kitchen at me.

“Crap.” I ducked to the side. “What was that for?”

“You dropped out of school?” She squeezed a slice at me, splattering lime juice all over the table. “What the hell, Capri? I spent all last semester getting you through English Lit.”

I clenched my teeth together and grimaced. “Yeah, and I really appreciated it.”

“Me, too.” Her glare popped into a grin. “There’s no way I would have made it through without you there. That class was boring as hell.” I laughed in agreement.

“But why?” Kensie asked pouring the margaritas into our glasses.

“It wasn’t for me.” I stood up to grab the salt from the pantry. “I’ve never been motivated to go. I tried, I really did, but my heart just isn’t in it.”

“And where is your heart?” Kensie handed Lennon and me each our cups.

With Wes, I thought but wasn’t ready for the confession yet. “In art,” I said following Lennon out into the living room.

“So, you really have always been an artist then?” Lennon asked sitting down in the oversized chair.

I peered at her through squinted eyes and shrugged my shoulders. I still wasn’t comfortable with the title artist. When was someone called an artist? When was someone called an author, a singer, or a designer? Was it simply the day they start creating or were there titles you earned through acknowledgment? For me, I couldn’t call myself an artist until I saw myself as one. Today, I was not an artist. “I’ve always loved art, yes.”

“That’s crazy,” Kensie said, setting her margarita onto the coffee table and falling back onto the couch. I chose the floor. I distinctly remembered walking in on August and Kensie on that couch a few months back. Not cool. “Not crazy that you have a thing for art, but crazy that we’ve never known.”

“Yeah, I guess, well. I don’t talk about it much.” I shifted, bending my legs to the side.

“Or ever.” Lennon stared at me. The way her eyes narrowed in challenge at me brought a smile to my face. She was so tiny, yet so determined. “Which is lame.”

“As much as I love it, I’m not the most confident about it,” I said recognizing this as my opportunity to tell them that I’m colorblind but talked right past it. I wasn’t ready to go there yet, either.

“Confident enough to drop out of school, though,” Lennon teased sliding her leg under her.

I laughed. “I like to use the term hopeful.”

Kensie smiled. “When you realize how amazing your art is, just promise we will be the first to see it.” This was why she was perfect for my brother. She had a heart that was more compassionate than most at our age, just like him, because of all she went through with her dad. The scars on their hearts made them beautiful people. My heart was untouched. I wondered what that said about me.

The girls and I sat around sipping on drinks and planning this joint bachelor/ bachelorette party for the next hour. Lennon was a tough sell on the idea. She was a strong supporter of a bride’s last wild night out before the wedding and said that couldn’t happen with the groom hovering. I didn’t care either way; whatever August and Kensie wanted was perfect.

I had to admit that I was looking forward to a night out with Wes and our friends. I wondered if it would be awkward, with us dancing around how to act with our friends and family around. We’d spent so much time just the two of us wrapped up in our painting and in each other. This would be the first time the people in our lives saw what we’d been creating together besides art. It was scary to think about.

The text alert from my phone echoed from the kitchen. I hopped up from the ground. “Not Tommy’s. Downtown, Kensie,” I said taking Lennon’s side on the location debate.

“Really? But Tommy’s is kind of our place.” She held her hands over her chest. I shook my head at her and went into the kitchen.

“It’s also tacky,” I shouted and heard Kensie’s gasp mixed with Lennon’s snicker.

“It is not,” she yelled back.

“For a bachelorette, yes, it’s completely tacky,” Lennon told her.

“How about the Hard Rock?” I asked digging in my purse on the kitchen table for my phone. “They have that club downstairs, and they have that poolside one on the roof, too.” Ah-ha. Found it. “Oh,” I said louder than I’d intended, seeing Wes’ name lit up on the screen.

“Who is it?” Kensie asked.

“Wes,” I answered nonchalantly opening the message and walking back into the living room.

Wes: You’re mine.

My feet lost their movement, and my heart fell to the soles, anchoring me to the carpet.

“What does he want?” Lennon’s voice perked up in the end. I shook my head and typed back my response quickly, the less I thought about, the more honest I’d be.

Me: I am

Then I hit send and stared at my friends. Holy crap. Maybe I should have thought that through a little more.

“Oh yeah, I saw him the other night at Tommy’s.” Lennon distracted me from the blue screen in my hand.

“You did?” He and I had been spending almost all of our time together lately so him going somewhere without me was news. I tapped on my phone.

Me: You’re mine too then.

Crap. I was a stage three clinger. When did that happen?

Wes: Yours, baby.

His message came through immediately, making my heart soar so high I swore it reached heaven.

“Yeah. He was alone.” She spoke the words firmly, nailing in their importance.

“Alone, alone?” Kensie piped up, recognizing the rarity. Wes was never spotted alone. Especially not at a place like Tommy’s where his co-ed groupies hovered.

“Yep, all alone. Sat at the bar for an hour or two nursing a beer and then left.” Lennon clicked her tongue against her cheek.

“Alone,” I said again, but not questioning the oddity. Instead, the word etched into my chest.

“He didn’t even notice when the usual sweeties did their fly-bys.” Lennon sat forward in the chair. “You should have seen ‘em. They were all slutted out and prowling around just waiting for Wes to strike.” Ugh. I could picture it; although, I wouldn’t use the word prowl. That word made them sound too intelligent. Maybe skitter or drift.

“But when he didn’t so much as blink their way,” Lennon’s voice became more animated, “they sulked off tossing their extensions left and right. Then guess what they did?” She almost whispered as I leaned forward in anticipation. “Those hussies came back by with their skirts even shorter and lashes even longer.” Bitches. “One last attempt, and just like before, Wes was oblivious.”

“Damn right, he was. Effing bitches better keep their fake nailed hands off of him,” I shouted into the tiny space. Kensie’s head snapped to me with eyes wide. Lennon tossed her own head back and cackled.

“I knew it.” She pointed at me. “You’re sleeping with him,” she accused.

“Am not,” I shot back stamping my foot.

“Yes, you are. You are so effing sleeping with him.” She air quoted my poor attempt at profanity.

“I am not,” I said crossing my arms over my chest in a huff because, really, I wasn’t, and it was crap.

“I think she’s telling us the truth, Len. She’s looking a little sorry for herself.” Kensie pat the spot next to her on the couch. I shook my head immediately. Brother’s penis was there. Not happening.

“Huh. That’s weird.” Lennon sat back into her chair.

“Why is that weird?” I asked pulling my arms in tighter around myself.

“Shut up, Lennon,” Kensie threw at her, but Lennon ignored her, of course.

“Well, because it’s Wes. He sleeps with everybody.”

My arms slipped from my grasp and thumped against my sides.

“I said shut up,” Kensie seethed across the room.

“Oh.” I scuffed over the spot next to Kensie on the couch and sat down.

“I’m not trying to be a bitch about it, but it’s true, yeah?” Lennon lifted a shoulder. The way she just crushed my heart deserved a two-shoulder lift at least.

“Yeah.” I sighed and leaned into Kensie, who wrapped her arm around me.

“Stop, you’re freaking her out,” she growled.

“I don’t mean to freak you out, Capri. Just pointing out the obvious. So are you like, his girlfriend?”

I looked down at the phone still clutched in my fingers.

“I think so?” About five minutes ago, I thought so. Now, I wasn’t so sure. What Lennon said was completely true. Wes had never been one to shy away from taking a girl home, so why wouldn’t he take me? We’d had the opportunity, and we’d talked around it many times. So didn’t he want to be with me?

“I doubt Wes even knows how to have a girlfriend.” Kensie squeezed my shoulder in her hand.

“Not likely,” I said feeling all hope fall to the floor.

“So this could be different for him. You could be the one who is different,” she assured me.

“I don’t know,” I said unconvinced.

“What about you?” Kensie let go of me and sat up. “You’ve had a lot of relationships, if we can even call them that.” She winced. “Is this thing with Wes different from the other guys you’ve dated?”

Her words stung, but I understood where she was coming from. I’d become a serial monogamist, dating guy after guy, one after the other. I’d been in such a dating routine I think I’d stopped considering if these were quality guys I even really cared about. The end goal had become to keep myself distracted from the one I really wanted. “What I have with Wes is something so new; I don’t think I’ve ever felt it before.”

“Whoa.” Lennon choked on her margarita, but I ignored her, focusing instead on why Wes was so significant to me.

“The other guys were just placeholders. They were there to distract me from what, or whom, I’ve always wanted. Now that I have him, I’m stunned at how much he is, at how much he means to me. I was certain that if I gave in just once, I’d recover quickly, but now I see that I can’t recover from someone like Wes in my life. He’s stained my heart.” I sucked in a slow breath feeling relief at speaking the truth I’d never even admitted to myself.

“You’ve always wanted that guy?” Lennon asked dumbfounded.

“You need to leave,” Kensie deadpanned to Lennon, making me laugh.

“No please, don’t banish me from wedding planning purgatory.” Lennon threw her hand over her forehead.

“Continue, Capri.” Kensie nodded back to me.

“I know that I’m more me with Wes than I am with anyone else. I know that under that goofy personality is a sweet and thoughtful guy. I know he makes me laugh and challenges me to be a stronger person.”

“Wow. This is real,” Lennon whispered, and Kensie nodded with a wistful smile on her face.

“See, this is real for you, and you’ve never had real before. Don’t doubt that he isn’t feeling the same exact way,” Kensie reassured me.

“You’re so smart.” I leaned back into her.

“Just make sure you buy him some new sheets.” Lennon scrunched her nose up at me.

I reached for Kensie’s glass, swiping the lime from it, and chucked it at Lennon’s head. “You bitch.”

“I love you, too.” She winked at me, and I smiled back. I did. I loved these girls.

The pencil scraped against the paper leaving a thick line on its trail and a dusting of lead scattered around the white surface. It had been years since I’d sketched. I’d moved on from it to watercolor shortly after August moved out of the house. So much was changing around me then, but I felt completely still. I thought a change in art medium would satisfy the rumbling within me.

What I hadn’t anticipated when I purchased my first set of watercolors was how the unease would only be satisfied by trying to capture trembling in my heart within the water brushed across the page. Picasso said, “The purpose of art is washing the dust of daily life off our souls.” There hadn’t been anything cleansing in my art. When I painted, I simply blew the dust onto a new surface. For me, it was a carefully crafted stream meant to tangle me up and hold me under.

My talk with the girls tonight and messages with Wes had me craving a bit of nostalgia. I needed to let my insides out into an art form that gave me freedom before my mind became a trap. As soon as I arrived home, I pulled out an old sketchbook and a set of charcoal pencils from the bottom drawer of my nightstand.

A soft smile tugged at my lips when I started shading in the simple heart I’d drawn. I even added a three-dimensional touch with a feminine, feathered arrow piercing through the center of it.

I pulled out a thinner leaded pencil and was just about to start on the letters when he burst through my door. I jumped, sending the pencil into the air, and my sketchbook falling from my lap.

“Holy crap, Wes!” I shouted, gripping my hands over my chest. “You scared me to death. How’d you get in here?” He wore the same beanie he had on at Tommy’s the other night with his usual jeans and tee, so hot.

“August gave me his key. Told me your folks were out for another two days.” He waggled his eyebrows at me carrying a white paper sack in one hand and a tray of cups in the other.

“Wait, is that In-N-Out?” I took the bag from his hands as he slid down to sit beside me on my bed.

“It is. Thought I’d woo my lady with a late night snack,” he turned, pulling out one of the cups, “and a milkshake.”

“I’m feeling very wooed right now,” I told him, digging into the bag and pulling out a cheeseburger.

“Whatcha got there?” he asked reaching for my sketchbook. With a full mouth, I batted his hand away. The jerked movement sent a glob of sauce falling onto my shirt.

“Crap,” I mumbled while reaching into the bag for napkins.

“You should probably consider nixing the white.” Wes laughed before shoving a handful of fries into his mouth. He pulled my sketchbook onto his lap and began flipping the pages. I tried to yank it from him, but he grabbed my hand and held it firmly in his. The more I tried to wriggle it free, the tighter his grasp got. In a fit of giggles, I finally gave up and accepted my immediate embarrassment.

“This is a really cute heart, C.” Wes grinned at me and let my hand go.

“I was messing around,” I said reaching for the book again, but he pulled it out of my reach and leaned across the room to grab the pencil I’d sent flying.

“What are you doing?” I asked trying to peer over his shoulder, but he turned and blocked my view.

“Mind your own business,” he grumbled, making me laugh. I left him to it and dove back into my burger.

A few minutes later, he tossed the book, along with the pencil, into my lap. Then he stuck his hand into the bag and took out his own cheeseburger.

“It’s just like your tattoo,” I said brushing my fingertips across the sketch of a marlin Wes had doodled onto the corner of the paper. He just nodded at me with a full mouth.

I tapped my pencil against the pad and scanned my room. What could I add to this? The marlin was obviously a part of Wes, so what was something that represented me? After pondering for too long, and becoming frustrated that I couldn’t think up what to draw, I doodled out the Chevy emblem in the bottom right corner.

When I handed the book back to Wes, he smiled proudly and quickly got to work on his next addition. “You ever gonna move out, C?” he asked while he sketched.

“Yeah.” I rested my head against the mattress behind me. “Soon, I think.”

“How come you never wanted to live in the dorms with your girls?” Wes asked, handing me the sketchbook back. I smiled when I saw he’d sketched the crystal ornament he’d given me for Christmas.

“I didn’t want to leave my parents.” I put the pencil to paper and started my next doodle.

“After the accident with Ella?” he asked stretching his arms above his head.

“No, well, yes and no. I didn’t stay for them. I stayed for me.” I finished the shading on the guitar and passed the book to Wes.

His head fell against the mattress when he smiled at me. “Perfect,” he whispered and leaned in to touch his lips softly and briefly to mine. Then he quickly turned around to shield me from his next drawing. “Why did you stay then?”

“It was safe here. So much was shifting and changing. As much as I wanted to go, I couldn’t do it. My parents knew about my colorblindness, so I’ve always felt like I could hide here. I wasn’t ready to step out.”

“Now?”

“Now, I feel, I don’t know. I feel like the road in front of me has been lit up. When I look ahead in my life, it isn’t shadowed like it used to be.”

Wes turned and handed me the sketchbook, with just enough of a smile for his dimples to begin to show. “That’s awesome, C.”

My heart expanded, and I smiled back. Wes seemed to always make me feel special. I opened the sketchbook that he’d handed to me and turned to the page we were working on. “My mermaid,” I whispered, amazed that he had captured the same beauty in it that he had painted on me that day.

I looked at Wes, who pursed his lips deepening the dimples. “C’mere.” His voice grated against my skin. He took my hands and pulled me into his lap. He leaned in and ran his nose down mine breathing me in. I held my breath absorbing his touch. “I missed you today,” he whispered his words against my lips.

“Me, too,” I whispered back. He ran his hands around my waist and pulled me into him sealing our lips with a kiss. I wrapped my arms around his shoulders. This kiss was different from the rest. The way his tongue caressed mine, and the slow pull of our lips, conjured a heat that spread deep into my soul.

I shifted to straddle him and deepened our kiss, but he kept it slow and intentional. I lifted my hands and pulled off his beanie letting it drop to the floor so I could tangle my fingers in his hair. I needed to feel him grasped between each finger. For years, I’d sat in this room thinking of him, dreaming of him, and capturing him in my art. I was finding it hard to believe he was here, and he was mine.

Wes lifted my waist slightly and pushed me back on my bedroom floor, crawling over me. He pulled away from me only briefly and ran his hand down my cheek. “This is wild,” he whispered. His eyes traced all over my face. The awe in his voice had me feeling a little uneasy until he spoke again. “You were right here all along.”

I nodded and pulled his lips back to mine in an attempt to swallow the tears that had threatened to seep from my eyes. He shifted his weight and settled between my legs. The solid feel of him right where I’d begun to ache pushed a soft moan from my lips. He groaned back in response and pressed himself tentatively against me. I pressed back. I wrapped my hands around his back and clenched my fingers against his skin, silently demanding more.

“Wes.” My dad’s voice echoed down the hallway.

“Fuck.” Wes flew off me and scrambled to his feet.

“I hope you left those thoughts of yours you mentioned the other day at home.” My dad’s question rounded the corner with him when he approached my door. I straightened my hair and pulled down my shirt but remained seated on the floor.

“Yes sir, Mr. Hunter, sir.” Wes’ words ping-ponged against each other.

“Oh hell,” my dad said and rolled his eyes. “Steve, Wes.” Then he directed his attention to me but only briefly. His eyes darted around the room choosing random places of focus instead of me. “Capri, I think you may want to consider moving out soon.”

“Hell, yes!” Wes shouted and leaned forward with his hand in the air to my dad. My dad shook his head, and Wes brought it back to run his hand through his hair.

“Wes.” My dad looked at him again, and something strange passed between them. A series of nods, blinks, and grunts even. Then my dad left.

“Sorry, they weren’t due back for another two days,” I said as Wes helped me up.

“We’re finding you a new place, Capri.” He leaned over placing a kiss on my cheek. “I need to be able to dry hump my girl in private,” he called over his shoulder but stopped at my door and turned to look at me. “’Night, baby,” he said and winked on his way out.