Painting Sky (35 page)

Keith groaned and pulled me against him. “This is Ryan’s sister. Don’t even think about it.” He added, “I’ve been busy.” He picked up his beer and sipped, never letting go of my waist, especially now that two other guys had sat on my left.

The bartender gave him a smirk, and, before turning around, muttered, “I can see that.”

The whole conversation turned Keith’s mood down even more, but, at least, it had distracted him from the track our conversation had been headed down. After my second drink, I turned to him, bored. Two guys had asked me to dance, but, at the growl coming from beside me, as if I was some territory to claim, they backed off without waiting for my reply.

“I want to dance. If you don’t let me go with anyone else, you’ll have to do it.” I pulled on his shirt and he didn’t offer much resistance.

The music was loud and angry, much like it had been at the Halloween party. After a couple of minutes with us conscious of the other’s presence, we started letting go. I’d never been much of an outgoing person, so I’d only danced at school’s functions, before, usually with Cody or my friends. Every time, it had felt constrained, like I didn’t know what to do with my limbs without looking like a madwoman. With Keith, all of that disappeared. We connected like I hadn’t connected with anyone, before.

The music beat loudly in my ears and I was able to close my eyes and trust Keith with myself. His skills helped, of course—the boy could dance. From time to time, I opened my eyes and saw girls watching us, envying me. I was so mad before, when girls got mad at me for no apparent reason, because of my connection to Keith or Cody.

Right then, I felt like the prettiest girl at that club, as if a guy like Keith found me hot enough to hook up with. I didn’t know if it was the alcohol clouding my judgment, or the whole club vibe, but I wanted Keith so badly. I grinded myself against him and heard his intake of breath, but he didn’t push me away. In fact, he tightened his hold on my hips, pulling me almost painfully against him.

Keith leaned forward and nuzzled my ear with his nose. I could feel sweat running down my back, so I probably didn’t smell very good, but I knew Keith was sweating, too, by the way his shirt clung against his skin. The only thing I could smell on him, though, was his unique scent, with a hint of deodorant.

The music changed, and this song was calmer. Keith stepped away, but didn’t let go of me completely. I knew his wheels were turning, and, in a few seconds, he would realize what a mistake this had been. I didn’t want him to regret this. We had a connection, even if he would never admit to it. I didn’t want us to go back to being cold roommates.

“I need to pee and get some water. Do you want to chaperon me?” I smiled. Nothing could stop his train of thought like talking about basic body needs. He nodded and followed me to the line of girls at the ladies’ room.

“I can’t understand why girls have lines and guys don’t,” I said, before he could talk about what had gone down on the dance floor.

He chuckled. It was a good sign. “You don’t, really? They go in pairs, talk nonstop, and apply makeup, even if they don’t need it.” I shrugged. My friends at school liked to go to the bathroom and do all those things, and I ended up tagging along, but I never understood it. Bathrooms usually smelled bad, especially at clubs.

The girls in front of us were openly ogling Keith by the time that it was their turn to go. “Hi, I’m Cara. This is my friend, Janice. Do you wanna have a drink?” This one was also blonde. What was with Keith and blondes?

I saw him check her out discreetly, but he looked bored. “Sorry, not tonight.”

That bothered me. As soon as he’d said “sorry,” I had been about to smile triumphantly. Then he’d disappointed me with the “tonight” part, as if tomorrow would be okay. Of course, the girls beamed at that, understanding the same thing I felt: that I was just tonight’s entertainment and would be discarded after a hook-up. I couldn’t even stomp away angrily to never see him again, like I would have done with any other guy. The first reason was that Keith actually lived with me and was my ride. The second was that I really needed to pee.

After they left, but not before slipping their numbers to Keith, who didn’t even move or protest, I finally got the bathroom to myself. I didn’t want to linger to see if he read the paper or went to speak to them.

I did my business and washed my hands, looking at the aged mirror in front of me. What did he see when he looked at me? His best friend’s annoying little sister? His little brother’s girlfriend? Or did he see someone else, entirely? Did he see a plain girl who didn’t know how to have fun, who couldn’t draw very well, and who had overbearing parents?

I wasn’t ugly—I knew that. My hair was shiny and my eyes were freaky, even though everyone said they were my best feature. My mouth was simple: not too big, and not too small. The rest of my body was okay. I was neither skinny, nor fat, but my muscles hadn’t seen a gym since junior year, so they weren’t as toned as they’d once been. I’d always thought my breasts were normal, but, from what I’d seen around me since I’d come to college, I realized they were probably on the smaller scale, especially when Keith was concerned.

I’d seen the girls he had hooked up with. I rarely wore makeup. Tonight, I had put on mascara and a bit of lipstick, which was long gone by now. I looked washed up.

We had gone out to make Keith feel better, and I’d just ended up taking a blow to my self-esteem. I’d never felt very attractive, even with Cody by my side. Keith had just taken it to another level.

When I finally got out of the bathroom, the first girl in line looked annoyed, before shoving me to the side to get in.

“What took you so long? You were alone, and, as far as I know, you don’t wear makeup,” Keith stated. I just wanted him to be quiet.

“I’m on my period,” I blurted out, shutting him down. I wasn’t, but seeing the discomfort on his face was worth it.

I made my way to the exit, but, before we could reach it, Keith grabbed my arm. “What’s wrong with you?”

“I want to leave.” I pulled at my arm, but he tightened his hold.

Keith didn’t bother answering. He led the way to the car, shut the door angrily, and turned the engine on before speaking.

“I don’t know if it’s that time of the month or not, but you were fine before going inside that bathroom. Now you look mad.”

He started driving us home, and I inhaled deeply a few times, searching for an excuse. I could just say I was tired, but my blood was still boiling, and I had to lash out.

“Did you have to do that?” My voice came out much weaker than I intended. I didn’t want him thinking I was hurt, just mad.

“Do what?” He was genuinely confused, and that just pissed me off more.

“Give hope to those girls.” Now I just sounded like a jealous girlfriend.

“Hope? I turned everyone down.” He was still confused as we started on the path to our house. In a couple of minutes, I wouldn’t have the dark and the distraction the ride provided to state my most private thoughts.

Turning to the window, I kept going. “The ones in the line. They slipped their numbers into your pocket and you gave them the impression that you would be done with me by tonight.”

“First of all, I’m not committed to anyone, so I can hook up with anyone I want. I would never do that with you by my side, but that doesn’t mean I won’t get together with them another night.” He sounded irritated, now, and, even though I had my own reasons, he wasn’t completely wrong. I was starting to feel like a third wheel. I had taken him out so he could have fun. Maybe he’d wanted to go out alone and find some company for the night. I had ruined his chances by tagging along.

Even knowing I was exaggerating, I couldn’t stop the words. “Well, you have their numbers right beside your dick, so you can drop me off and go meet them.” I opened the door and slammed it, rushing to get inside before he could see the tears that threatened to spill over. It was irrational, but I knew I was falling for him, and this was exactly what I was going to get, until I finished college and moved out. It would be much worse, actually, because Keith had been holding himself back. He respected me and stopped bringing girls home, but that wasn’t the same as stopping being interested in girls, altogether.

I went directly to my room, straining to hear the engine to see if he was going to follow my suggestion. He must have decided it was too much work, because, not a minute later, right before I slammed my bedroom door, I heard the front door closing and a loud sigh.

I hadn’t bothered locking up, because I hadn’t expected him to come barreling into my room, just after I took my shirt off, which smelled horribly of tobacco. I was inside my closet, searching for a clean one. I had decided I would just take a cold shower, even though it was two in the morning.

“Sky,” he said, startling me and making me drop the shirt to the floor. I was standing in front of him in just my jeans and bra. I wanted to scream and cover myself, but the confused, embarrassed, and heated look on Keith’s face stopped me from covering myself.

“What? Too skimpy for you?” I asked defiantly, tilting my head.

He just gave me a dark laugh and that smirk that I just wanted to slap off his face. “You have no idea,” he muttered, tousling his hair before striking out for me. With his hands on my waist, he slammed me against the closet door—not too gently. “What’s wrong with you?” he hissed. “You’re all hot and bothered on the dance floor, and then you come out of the bathroom all jealous, like a clingy girlfriend. What’s gotten into you?”

I tried to pry his hand off of me, but, after giving up, I pushed against his chest, instead. “Get off me. I’m not one of your fan club’s sluts.”

He laughed again, but there was no amusement in his voice. “Why do I get the impression you want to be one of them?”

That had done it for me. I pushed him away with all the force I could muster. “That’s the second time you’ve called me a whore and the second time I want to slap someone. Maybe you should just leave and never speak to me again.”

Regret showed on his features, but I couldn’t give in so easily, so I shoved him to the door. He stopped me before I could close it on his face.

“I didn’t call you a slut. I asked if you wanted what they want: a piece of me, of my body, just to leave in the morning and never look back. Huh? Is that it, Sky? Maybe I’m not the only one who has self-esteem problems around here.”

With that, he left for the attic and slammed the door, before I could even move.

The next day would have been the perfect opportunity to continue our drawing lesson, but I had a feeling he wouldn’t be up for it.

The morning went by quickly. At lunch, I cooked for myself, not expecting him to come down the stairs when I was about to sit on the couch to eat my pasta. His hair was still wet from a shower and he was only wearing sweatpants.

“Sorry I woke up so late. I was up until eight.”

I dropped the fork into the bowl and turned to face him. Maybe he had forgotten last night completely. He hadn’t had much to drink, so it was unlikely.

“I didn’t cook for you.” It was the only thing that left my mouth.

Keith just shrugged and went to the kitchen. I had the urge to follow, to see if he was the same person who had yelled at me last night. Maybe he thought we were even. I’d yelled at him, so he’d yelled back. If that’s how he wanted to act, it was fine with me. I had woken up much calmer. I stayed on the couch, though, eating my warm meal, while he made something in the kitchen.

When Keith was done preparing his lunch, he sat beside me on the couch. I was done with mine, and I had to resist the urge to get up and put some distance between us.

“Are you really on your period?” he asked, which made me cough in surprise. Was that the first thing we would be talking about? Maybe he was seeing if that would explain my behavior last night.

“Don’t blame my hormones for what I said yesterday. You made me feel bad, and I stated so. You’re the one who’s always telling me I need to grow some calluses. Wasn’t that the expression you used?” I turned to him. “And no, I’m not. So, no crazy hormones are to blame.” I crossed my arms, waiting for the surprise that was about to come, for sure. Keith never did or say what people expected of him.

“And I love to see you mad, even if I get slapped in the process.” He didn’t seem pleased—on the contrary, he believed in what he was saying, which didn’t give him any satisfaction. It was kind of sick to love getting me mad. As if sensing my confusion, he added, “You get so passionate when you’re mad, or when you’re focused on painting or cooking.” He seemed to shake his thoughts, along with his words, but they still lingered in the air. I was still focused on them when he dropped the next bomb. “I want to draw you nude.”

I took a few seconds to process everything, from the moment we argued yesterday, to the moment he proposed something like this. “You’re crazy,” I muttered, not having the energy to shout. I was still hoping the words had been only in my head.

My parents had seen me naked, my siblings, and even my doctor, but no one else, including them, had for a long time. Not even Cody. We might have fooled around, but we’d never taken our clothes off completely. Now, Keith, who was practically a stranger, wanted something so private from me.