Painting Sky (33 page)

His hand retracted quickly. “No, you won’t. I’ll make sure of it.” His eyes returned to the road in front of us and he started the car, taking us home.

I didn’t ask right away, and willed my heart to calm down both from having his hand on my lips and from the mixed emotions I’d been experiencing all day. It had started great, but had turned awful. Apparently, however, it was becoming better again.

“What do you mean?” I finally came up with.

“I’ll help you—this time for real. We’ll work it out.” He turned the car off. Before I could get out, he stopped me with a hand on my elbow. “But you’ll do what I tell you, no questions asked. You draw what and who I tell you.”

I was about to open my mouth to complain, but his eyes told me I should be doing otherwise. He wouldn’t budge this time, and, defeated, I shrugged, finally nodding. “‘Kay.”

That night, Keith didn’t come downstairs to have dinner with me and the boys. I tried not to read too much into it. He already agreed on helping me. If he needed time to process all of this, it was fine with me.

My thoughts were all on him, however, until I fell asleep that night.

The next Friday, we, apparently, had a party scheduled. When I got home at the end of a long and complicated day, there were a dozen strangers in my living room with red cups in their hands. My brother came barreling out of the kitchen with more beer and a goofy smile on his face.

“Sis, how was school?” His arm came around my shoulder while I tried balancing my backpack and sketchbook.

“School’s good. Another party?” Truth be told, they hadn’t thrown a party in two weeks. I was already used to the quiet. Ryan just shrugged and kept distributing beer among his friends, while I made my way upstairs.

Sleep was hard to come by that night. The music was loud and I had a ton of work for the weekend: two papers, not to mention that I should have been perfecting my drawings. It was almost eleven when I woke up, confused, and feeling like I was late for something. This had always happened in high school when I was stressed, and it left me grumpy for the rest of the day. Never bothering to change from my pajamas, I went downstairs to eat something, as my stomach was making itself painfully aware. After all, I had skipped dinner last night.

Keith was sitting on the stool. He said “good morning” and was about to add something when my brother came in with his backpack on his shoulder. “Hi, guys. I’m so late.” He mumbled with his head already inside the fridge.

I sat next to Keith, watching my brother rummage through the cabinets. “For what? It’s Saturday.” My brother never bothered to hurry for school, so I doubted that was where he was headed.

“I have a convention a couple of hours from here. It’s today and tomorrow. The guys and I will stay there.” He stopped completely and looked to where Keith was seated. “I’m so sorry—I completely forgot.” He opened his mouth several times, and then glanced between me and Keith. “Will you be okay? Do you want me to stay?” I had no idea what they were talking about, but it seemed serious, by the look on Ryan’s face and his tone.

“It’s fine, Ry. Go ahead and have fun.” Keith wasn’t as serious as my brother. In fact, he was almost nonchalant about whatever had gone on between them.

“You sure? I’ll stay. Just say the word.” My brother waited by the door, but Keith shrugged and gestured for him to go ahead.

After a couple of minutes of silence, I couldn’t hold it in any longer. “What was that about?”

“Nothing.” He shrugged again and got up from the table to wash his mug.

I joined him at the sink, but he retreated a step to avoid touching me. “Please, I’ve never seen my brother that serious about anything. Are you sick, or something?”

My stomach was in knots at the prospect of Keith being sick or hurt. He didn’t seem upset about anything—he was just quiet. That wasn’t strange about him.

“Drop it. It’s nothing that concerns you. We should start on your drawing lessons if we’re going to have the house to ourselves.” He dried his hands on the towel and left me alone in the kitchen.

I ran after him. “Okay, you’ll pose for me, but you have to tell me what that was about.” I nodded to the kitchen. He looked between me and the kitchen door, and then laughed.

“You’re negotiating with me without giving me anything in return, if you haven’t noticed. One: you’re being nosy. Two: I’m helping you.”

He was right, but I wasn’t going to give this up so soon. “Pretty please,” I pouted, which only made him laugh harder.

“Oh, come on, baby, pouting, really?”

His term of endearment shocked both of us. He dropped his smile and I stood there, blinking. He had called me hundreds of names before, which almost never included Jane, my first name, but “baby?” I could pass it off as sarcasm or as teasing, as he’d used it in the past, but this time he’d meant for it to be endearing. He quickly covered his own surprise.

“It’s my birthday.” Being shocked twice in the span of just a few minutes at eleven in the morning wasn’t a good omen for the rest of the day. “But I don’t celebrate it, ever. So drop any ideas you have of a happy day with cake and candles and shit, okay?” I just nodded, still frozen in front of him. “Promise me, Sky, that you won’t do anything stupid.”

If he didn’t want a birthday party, I wouldn’t go against it. It was still sad, though. I decided to bring up the subject later.

After our strange conversation, I headed to the shower, where I stood for a few minutes, letting the water clear my head. Then I dressed in comfy leggings and a long shirt that ended at my thighs, and planned what I was going to cook for lunch.

Keith ended up helping me make bolognese and we ate in front of the TV—something I’d always loved to do, but rarely could back at my parents’ house.

“How’s the hand?” He nodded to me. After chewing the last bite, I looked over at him.

“It’s fine. Don’t worry.”

The mood around us was becoming uncomfortable. The atmosphere was thick with tension and we ended up watching a movie, while eating, until the credits rolled on. Keith had never been nervous for posing for the entire class, and he’d been pestering me for weeks to let him help me. Now that the moment had arrived, he was the one looking uneasy.

“You,” his voice faltered, and he tried again, with his hand already through his hair. “You want do this?”

He sounded as if he was proposing something much more intimate than just posing, but I guess that, for the both of us, art was intimate, especially if he wanted me to pour my feelings into my work. I was starting to fear that he would see me through my paintings. If Keith suspected I could fall for him, he would back off completely, and might even go as far as asking me to leave.

“My room?” The question made me blush deeply, and he looked away, thinking.

“No.” He shook his head. “Mine. We’ll have good lighting there, and more space.” His expression told me he needed that space to be between us. I murmured my reply and headed upstairs to prepare my materials—and my mind—for the task ahead. I was getting used to drawing naked people in class, even Keith. It shouldn’t have been much different.

His room was well-lit by the light coming from outside, even though the day was cloudy and gray. He had discarded his shirt and shoes, but was looking around his room for something. I looked around, too, as if I could help him.

“Let’s do a sequence of quick drawings to warm you up. I’ll stay dressed.” Dressed was stretching it, as he had only jeans on. It was, however, hard to mimic the denim.

For the first couple of drawings, everything was stiff. Keith wasn’t at ease and I couldn’t concentrate, even with the easy poses. “Okay, we need to change something.” It was my turn to look around for something, and my eyes landed on his docking station. “Music.” During class, our professor let us listen to music, if the volume was low. I never had the courage to do it because it looked disrespectful. It was something I loved to do while drawing, though.

Keith was the one to set the playlist. It wasn’t quite classic, but it was still dramatic and without distracting lyrics.

The music helped, but it took a couple more drawings to set the mood to the point that I could forget everything and lose myself in my art.

Without warning, Keith took off the rest of his clothes and I stiffened again, trying my best to avoid looking at him.

“Relax. Breathe, Sky. You can do this. It’s just like in class.”

No, it wasn’t—not for me, and not for him, either. I tried to focus on the task, though, and it ended being that: a task. This meant the drawing ended up being crap.

Keith put his boxers on while he studied every drawing I’d created that afternoon. The last ones with him dressed were okay, but the one without his clothes on was kind of robotic. He didn’t need to tell me that: I could see it with my own eyes.

“I know. Awful. It’s such a disappointment.” I was so tired—not only physically, but also emotionally—that I could cry.

He dropped everything on the bed and grabbed my hands, which were now covering my eyes. “Stop. You’re not a disappointment and neither are your drawings. What was wrong today? I thought you’d gotten more comfortable with me naked.” He flinched and tilted his head. “Sorry. You know what I meant.”

The mood was playful now, so I tried a smile. “I know, but it’s different with just us.” He could feel it, too, even if he didn’t agree with me.

Then, Keith surprised and shocked the hell out of me once more, by placing my hands on his chest. My first reaction was to tug my arms away, but he tightened his hold.

“Relax. I don’t bite.” The smirk I’d hated so much was now showing fully. Maybe for the first time, it didn’t bother me. The feeling it enticed was very different, and I was afraid he would sense my quick pulse through my wrists.

“Come on. If you don’t relax, I’ll make you touch all of me.” He was playful, and the threat was empty, but, even knowing that, my heart beat faster. I didn’t know if I should feel outraged, scared, or excited.

I lifted my eyes to meet his, and, whatever he saw there—probably the three complex feelings inside of me—made him let go of my hands and step back. He cleared his throat.

“Okay, let’s go downstairs, drink something, and try again.”

When he said “drink,” I hadn’t expected it to be alcohol. That was, however, exactly what he placed on the kitchen counter.

“You think I draw better drunk? Am I that bad?” I teased, but I picked up the tequila, anyway. The kiss was playing in my head on a loop now, and I feared and yearned for it to be repeated. Keith just served us a second time before placing the bottle back into the cabinet.

I followed him upstairs, and my eyes lingered at the place the kiss had happened. Weeks ago, I had been so mad at him for kissing me. Now I just wanted it to happen again.

“You coming?” Keith asked, ending my daydream.

We had to change positions. Before, he was too stiff as he stood up, away from me, and then sat awkwardly in the chair. We needed to make this more intimate and more relaxed.

“You need to sit on the bed. Let me choose the setting, this time,” I said. He had been the one in charge of that before, but I needed to take the lead. After all, the work was mine. I was the one who would be evaluated by it.

Keith ended up sitting with his back to the headboard of the bed with one arm over his head. The muscles on his arms and chest contracted, giving me good texture for the drawing. Of course, like this, he was completely exposed to me. That had to be the point, though. I sat on the chair this time, and placed the sketch pad on the foot of the bed.

This time, I did lose myself, and everything came easier. The lines blurred together, the music was loud in my ears, and my hand travelled over the page much more easily. His face was set in stone, while I traced the general lines. After maybe fifteen minutes, he groaned and my eyes snapped up to his, bursting my bubble. He had always been the perfect subject to draw because he never complained or made a sound.

“What?” I asked, irritated that he had interrupted my concentration.

“You need to stop biting your lip, Sky.”

I looked at him confused, and frowned. Was that really an important thing right now, if it would destroy the chance of a perfect drawing? He noticed my annoyance and sighed.