Painting Sky (13 page)

I could blame it on the alcohol or on the crazy night. I could blame it on the way he protected me, the way he held me, the way he tangled his hands in my hair, and the fact that I felt so alone all the time.

I
fell asleep sometime during my confused thoughts on the floor of my bedroom.

I didn’t know if what had woken me up was the pain in my lower backside, the pain in my head, or the light coming through my window, which hurt my eyes.

I was definitely hungover: the part I wasn’t so thrilled about. I would blame Keith.

Keith.

The kiss.

I groaned and sat back on the floor. What was I going to do? I couldn’t pretend it hadn’t happened, right? It wasn’t right. I would talk to Keith—if I could face him. I wasn’t too sure I could. I could pretend that I didn’t remember, but I wasn’t that good of an actress and he would know. He knew me better than I gave him credit for.

I decided to go downstairs for breakfast when my stomach started to groan and I found all three guys sitting at the kitchen island.

“Morning, baby. Your brother told me you went out with them yesterday.” Cody got up to kiss me, while I took in his brother’s reaction. It wasn’t what I had been expecting: Keith smiled at me and drank his coffee. He said something to Ryan about a game tonight.

“Yeah, but you didn’t miss much.” I sipped the coffee my brother had given me.

“What happened to your hand, Keith?” Cody’s question turned my attention to his brother, who had a bandage around his right hand.

He flexed his fingers, as if he had forgotten about the bandage. “I hurt it last night—don’t even remember how.” He shrugged and challenged me with his eyes. I wasn’t going to tell Cody how he’d gotten it, either.

“Well, I have class in half an hour. Do you want a ride?” I wanted to talk to Keith first, but I couldn’t turn Cody down.

“If you want to go later, I can take you,” Keith said as he washed his mug, without turning to meet my eyes—my panicked eyes. What did he want? “I have class,” he finished. Okay, at least he had a reason to make such an offer.

“Sure. See you later, baby,” Cody answered for me and kissed me before leaving. He never waited for my answer, even though I was the one who was deciding.

“I’m leaving too. Bye, sis, Keith.” Ryan left behind Cody and I ran to my room. I needed time to process my speech. I was a coward. I put on my favorite jeans, not caring that I was going to have art class. I also wore a black shirt, like my mood.

“I’ll be in the car,” Keith shouted from downstairs an hour later. I could do this. I could beg a guy to never mention a kiss ever in his life, right?

The wind was freezing, so I hugged my jacket against my body while I made my way to the driveway. I had never ridden in Keith’s vehicle. It was a crossover, which suited him perfectly—it was black, of course.

I waited until he was on the road to approach the subject.

“About last night… I think we should talk.” I swallowed before facing him.

“I know.” He nodded. “I’m sorry, I should never…”

I kept going with my rehearsed speech. “It’s okay, I just want to forget it. We can’t ever talk about this to anyone. Cody and Ryan would kill us.” I guess he was on the same page, but he still scowled and turned to me at a red light.

“What exactly are you trying to say? Did I do something last night?” He looked worried now—more like panicked.

“I-I… don’t you remember?” Was it possible? Was I that lucky?

His hand went through his hair a couple of times before he turned to me again. “I haven’t been that drunk since high school. I don’t remember much after we started with the tequila. Did I do something?”

He was really worried, and for good reason, but I wasn’t going to tell him that. I would enjoy the lemons that life was giving me. I tried my nonchalant face. “What do you think happened? I was talking about the tequila. Cody and Ryan wouldn’t appreciate knowing about me drinking that much.” I peered at him to watch his face. Was it possible that he didn’t remember the kiss?

“Sure. But if I said or did something… inappropriate… you would tell me, right?” He parked in front of the art building.

“Sure.” I wished my voice wasn’t so weak, so I added a smile. “How’s your hand?”

He got out of the car, which I didn’t appreciate. I looked between him and the building and then we started walking.

“Better. It doesn’t hurt that much. Your arm?” He pointed at my shirt-covered arm. It was slightly red, but no bruise was coming.

I forgot to answer when he turned down the same hallway. “Are you…” I never finished the sentence, because he guessed the question by my blush.

“No, not today, but I have to talk to Elizabeth. It’s probably about another session, so you should get used to the idea.” The smirk I hadn’t seen in days showed on his face. Maybe he didn’t remember the kiss. He wouldn’t be this carefree, walking around with me, if he was as embarrassed as I was.

It would be my dirty little secret.

I shook my head to remove the kiss and naked Keith from my head and went to my stool, while he talked to his “friend.” Their relationship annoyed me to no end. I couldn’t understand. She was so difficult. Maybe he was right that I worried too much.

Of course that class would be a disaster.

“For God’s sake, Keaton, you live in the same house as the best student and model this class has ever had and you can’t even create an average drawing. In two weeks, I’ll be evaluating your work. At this rate, you will fail.”

She couldn’t have spoken louder unless she was yelling, and every student was looking my way. Some were considerate about my embarrassment, while others were just pleased I wasn’t competition. Her last three words were like nails in my coffin. I couldn’t fail—my father would kill me. He would demand that I transfer to another school closer to home, with another major not art-related. I would be miserable and alone—more than I was now.

I dragged myself through the empty streets that afternoon, thinking about what I should do. I knew what I could do to get better: ask for Keith’s help. That would be so painful, but it was between failing and asking him.

I couldn’t go back to my parents with my tail between my legs, or pretend I did not kiss my boyfriend’s brother—pretend he did not kiss me, I mean. I needed to convince myself before I could convince anyone else. I just hoped that day wouldn’t come.

I was starting my twenty minute walk through the woods to the house when it started to rain. I looked up. Really? I opened the door, already wet and freezing, just to come home to a living room with strangers playing video games and yelling at each other.

Some of them turned to me and I recognized the one who had made fun of me the last time. I searched for Keith and found him snapping at his pierced friend.

“Hi. Going upstairs.” I had no energy to talk or argue, so I just went to my room. Hopefully I wouldn’t have to talk to Keith, at all.

After taking a long, hot shower, while trying to keep any unpleasant thoughts from popping into my head, I sat on the bed with my drawings spread around me.

I could pretend to draw someone by memory. Who was I trying to kid? I needed Keith. I groaned against my pillow for a couple of minutes and, when I stopped with the childish screaming, sat back up. I almost fell to the floor when I spotted Keith, leaning against my open doorframe with crossed arms and a smirk in place. Of course he had to watch my meltdown. He just had to.

“Problems in the art department?” He nodded at the drawings.

“No. Yes. Maybe.” I could do this. I could ask him to help me with his clothes on.

“I kind of need help.” I lowered my voice.

“Can you help me?”

He uncrossed the arms and stepped forward. “What was that? I didn’t catch the end.”

“Yes you did,” I said, groaning. “I need your… advice.”

“What kind of advice?” He sat at the end of the bed, still smirking. I wished I could slap that smile from his face.

I sighed before asking again. “I can’t fail. Can you help me?”

“I already told you: you need to practice. Your drawings are getting better, and you’re more comfortable with nude portraits. You need to capture the feeling behind the painting.”

If I captured my feeling behind Keith’s drawing, it would be frustration. What would frustration look like on paper?

I fidgeted with the hem of my shirt and heard the clock in the hallway announce that it was eight o’clock. I should’ve started with dinner half an hour ago.

“Will you pose for me? Clothed, of course.”

He smirked and I shook my head. What had I done?

“Sure thing. When?”

My brother was coming home in an hour and Cody had texted me after my shower that he was coming home, too. “Not today. I’ll see when it’s best, ‘kay?” I piled up my drawings and went downstairs to start dinner.

Keith followed me to the kitchen and, silently, helped me cook. Keith was actually a great cook.

“Where did you learn how to cook?” I asked, after starting preparing the meatballs for dinner.

“My grandfather taught me. He said a man has to learn how to do everything a woman does.” He dried his hands and leaned against the counter. “At first, I sucked at it, but he never let me give up. I cooked every night and he ate even the burned food. I started getting better. It’s the same with your drawings: you just need to keep going, until, one day, they get better.”

He was right—that was the rule to most things in life. Practice makes perfection.

Arms came around me, accompanied by a whisper. “Hello, beautiful.” I jumped, never having noticed that Cody had arrived. I kissed him back, pushed the stack of plates I was holding into his arms, and nodded at the dining room.

“Hi. Set the table, please. Dinner’s almost ready.”

I lifted my head and my eyes set on Keith’s face. He was studying me, with his arms crossed. “You can take the food to the table,” I ordered. I felt uncomfortable under his stare, so I busied myself with the salad.

My brother walked in while we were placing the food on the table. He kissed me on the cheek and sat next to Keith, his usual seat.

“So, how are your classes, sis?”

“Fine. I’m getting better at art,” I lied, which earned a raised eyebrow from Keith. “And your classes?”

“They’re fine.” He shrugged, which made me believe they were not fine. I had given up on helping him a long time ago, though. “Mom asked me if I was going with you for Thanksgiving. Not sure yet.” He shrugged again.

Cody moaned beside me. “This tastes wonderful. I knew you cooked well, but not like this.” He took another bite and moaned again. I opened my mouth to tell him it had been mostly his brother’s doing, but I saw Keith discreetly shaking his head, so I closed it again. Okay, I could take all the credit.

After dinner, Cody stayed with me as I washed the plates. He told me about his quizzes. After drying my hands on the towel, he picked me up and sat me on the counter.

“I miss you, baby.” He sniffed my neck, which made me smile. “Me too,” I whispered. I did. Not only did I feel alone all the time, but I also felt that I was losing him.

He kissed me, gripping my legs against him, and we made out, right there, in the kitchen, until my brother decided to come in to get a beer.