Truth in Watercolors (Truth Series Book 2) (13 page)

He pulled the cigarette back out and nodded toward the desk. “Whatcha workin’ on over there?”

“Just messin’ around,” I said and shifted in the chair, trying to hide the sketch behind me.

“Messin’ around, my ass,” he mumbled and walked up to me bringing his thick tobacco scent with him. I relished the smell on a long inhale. I’d quit smoking a few years ago, but, unfortunately, I slipped up every now and again when I was really stressed. Right now, that rich fuckin’ sultry smell was seducing the hell outta me.

“You’re shittin’ me,” Blue mumbled peeking over my shoulder. “Move outta the way, kid.” He shoved my shoulder moving me himself and picked up the drawing from the desk. “Ya turned her into a fuckin’ kindygarten project.”

“I colored it in ol’ man. No big deal.” I grabbed the mermaid sketch from his hands and balled it up in my fist before tossing it into the trashcan.

“You been drawing that same damn grayscale sketch since I’ve known ya, Marilyn,” I smiled at the nickname he’d called me since he found out my last name was Monroe, “and probably been carryin’ that picture of it in yer pocket even longer. If I knew any better, I’d say you’ve gone and met yourself a girl.” He chuckled to himself before turning to walk away.

“I’ve met lots of girls, Blue,” I said looking at the distorted aquamarine tail out of the corner of my eye.

“Ah, but none of ‘em have ever been yer mermaid now, have they?” He smirked at me and shoved the cigarette back into his mouth before walking out of the office door. “I’m out for a smoke,” he shouted back at me.

“Obviously,” I mumbled turning back toward the desk.

“I heard that, ya pussy pansy.” His voice echoed down the hall.

“Go smoke, saggy balls,” I yelled back.

“All those bitches sucked ‘em dry.” I tossed my head back and laughed. Fuckin’ Blue.

The light from my cell phone on my desk caught my attention. I picked it up, still smiling to myself until I saw the message.

“Fuck,” I whispered and raked my hands through my hair.

Capri: Are we painting tomorrow?

Twenty-four hours ago, I kissed her. Somewhere between the years of looking after her and the hours of thinking about her, I let my guard down. I got so caught up in wanting her that, for those few minutes when I held her face in my hands and got my first taste of her, I forgot how much she scared me.

I drove the short distance home with my heart racing so quickly it skipped a beat a time or two. It felt like the time I bungee jumped on my eighteenth birthday. I was teetering off a ledge, about to jump. The only thing I could hear was the jackrabbit pace of my pulse, and my vision seemed to narrow and tighten in on a single pool of calm water below me. I wanted so badly to claim the victory of the fall down to the pool, but not knowing if I’d be the one to have the rope snap, sending me in an uncontrolled descent, was terrifying. Capri’s kiss was fuckin’ terrifying.

I clicked on reply and began to type.

Me: Of course. I can’t wait to see you.

I read over the words, and my heart started to freak out again. I deleted them and typed again.

Me: I want this so bad C, but I’m so fuckin scared.

I deleted them, the familiar rapid pulse climbing up my veins.

Me: Tell me we can have this. Tell me I can have you.

The thumping vibrated through my neck.

Me: I think I need you.

Fuck. I deleted the last words and opened one of the desk drawers, shoving my phone deep inside.

I looked up at the ceiling, gripped my hair between both fisted hands, and waited for the pounding to subside.

“Hey, Marilyn!” Blue’s voice came from down the hallway just before the slamming of the back door.

“Yeah, Bluebell?” I yelled back, dropping my arms heavily onto the desk in front of me, leaning into them.

“I just remembered something,” he said from behind me. I looked over my shoulder to see him leaning against the doorway. “Whoa, what the hell happened to ya in the last ten minutes, kid? You look like shit.”

I probably looked like a guy who was trying his hardest not to fall for the girl. “I look like a guy who just rubbed one out,” I said with a lazy smirk on my face.

“Sick fuck,” he said laughing between wheezy coughs. “Go home, Marilyn. Your last appointment was hours ago.” He tapped on the doorjamb and shuffled off.

“Hey, what’d you remember?” I shouted at him.

“I jizzed on your front tire this morning.” His laughter faded behind the jingle of the bells on the front door.

I caught the echo of my laugh on the walls of the small room and noticed that my pulse had settled back down. Maybe I should get out of here. It’d been a long day. I’d stop by Lennon’s new place, but she said she was heading up to L.A. for a few days. I could always do a surprise pop in on Kensie. That shit was always fun, but she lived with August now. I sure as hell didn’t want to do a surprise pop in on August’s naked ass. I could go home. I wondered what Capri was doing. Fuck. Probably waiting for me to text her back. I opened the side drawer and dug out my phone.

Me: I have a lot to do at the shop this week. I’ll be in Friday.

I shoved the phone back in the drawer and laid my head on the desk. I was gonna be sick. I thumped my hand blindly on the desk until it found the satellite remote. I peeked up and cranked it up to turn the volume up. The heavy beat took over for my brain, and I sat up, cracking my knuckles.

D
ays. It’d been days since Wes kissed me, and I hadn’t heard from him. He most certainly hadn’t heard from me, either. His lame reply to my lame text was all I needed to spend a night painting a troll in his likeness.

After hours, no days, of keeping my phone with me at all times, I finally gave up any hope of hearing from him, but not before leaping over the thin line that separated available and pathetic. I’d set it on the bathroom counter next to the shower with the volume as high as it would go, I’d carry it in my back pocket with the ringer and vibration on, and I even carried it in the palm of my hand around campus yesterday when I’d worn a dress. Pathetic.

Now, I was here setting up the paint supplies alone because, what a surprise, he wasn’t here yet, and all I wanted to do was yell at him. I wanted to tell him all the reasons why he had no right to treat me like all of his other casual hook-ups. I wanted to explain to him why I should be different from all those girls. Most of all, I wanted to cry because crap, he’d really hurt me.

“Good morning, Capri.” I wiped the woe from my face and glared over my shoulder at Wes.

“Weston,” I said and turned completely around when I saw him holding two coffees. I met him halfway. “A peace offering?” I asked taking the hot cup of goodness from his hand and ignoring the daisy sketched onto the paper cup.

“Yeah, C, look,” Wes started to apologize, I assumed, given he was capable of such a thing, but I wasn’t interested.

“Thank you for the latte, but you can shove your offering of peace up your behind.” I marched myself proudly back toward the rollers I’d been putting together and ignored his sexy chuckle.

“Not my thing,” he said, “but about last night—”

“Dayum,” he was cut off by our new helpers.

“Oh, shiiit. This is tight.” One boy held his fist over his hand as he talked, and the other took his backpack off and tossed it against the wall.

“You must be Jordan and Ridge,” I said, smiling at them and extending my hand to introduce myself. “I’m August’s sister, Capri, and this is Wes.”

“Hey, girl. I’m Jordan; this one’s Ridge.” The, I assumed, thirteen—or fourteen-year-old nodded his head, licked his lips repeatedly, and wagged his eyebrows at me all at the same time. Impressive.

“Hey, hey, hey, okay buddy.” Wes was suddenly sliding himself between the kid and me. “Keep your mackin’ in check, or I’ll call your mom and have her come pick you up.”

“All right, Wes,” I heard Jordan say and rolled my eyes going back to finish the setup. August told us earlier in the week that he was going to have two of his boys come help us work on the mural. He said he had seen both of them express an interest in art, specifically on the side of the freeway underpass by the youth center, and wanted to give them a chance to try out their talent on a legal piece of property.

“How do you know them?” I asked Wes.

“I met them through their social worker. Good boys; just gotta keep ‘em in line.” Wes bit his bottom lip and jerked his chin up. Oh yes, I was sure Wes did a top-notch job of keeping his mini men in line. I imagined by the end of today, all three of them would be pounding fists and sharing notes on the perfect hip to stride ratio in a swagger.

After I had given a brief description of what we were working on, Wes took over the directives with the kids. I tried to remain aloof, but his effort with these boys was hypnotically endearing. Wes joked with them, complimented them, and gave them free creative range of what was left of the mural. Like he knew exactly what they needed to feel comfortable and exude confidence. By the way the two had quieted down and immediately got to work, I knew they not only respected Wes but also appreciated this opportunity.

“So let me ask you something.” Ridge was adding his own touch with geometric shapes and patterns in one corner of the mural.

“Shoot,” Wes said from where he worked with a boy on either side of him.

“So I wanna ask Mia out, but I don’t know what she would say.” Ridge looked up expectantly at Wes.

“Just ask her,” I answered and all three heads whipped in my direction. Oops. I guess I wasn’t supposed to be a part of this conversation.

“Girls aren’t that simple, Miss Capri.” Ridge shook his head at me.

“Women are very complicated creatures,” Wes agreed.

“Creatures?” I asked but was ignored. The boys were paying rapt attention to Wes. The three stood in a huddle with lowered voices as Wes explained to them about the species of women with exaggerated hand gestures.

As angry and confused as I was about us, I couldn’t tear my eyes away from him. His unwavering attention toward the boys, and his enthusiasm for the questions they appeared to be asking nearly enchanted the hurt from my heart. At one point, Wes must have felt me watching because he looked up to me mid-sentence, smirked, and winked. My heart leaped clear to the heavens.

“Hey, Miss Capri?” Ridge asked and all three turned, opening up their secret circle to me.

“Ridge?” I asked warily.

“How can I show Mia that…ya know…” Ridge stuffed his hands deep into his pockets… “that she’s cool. Ya know?” He winced at me.

“Are you asking me what you should do to show Mia that she’s special?”

“That’s what he wants to know, C.” Wes stood behind him, hands stuffed deep into his pockets.

“So, he wants to know how to show Mia that she isn’t just another girl to him?” I asked propping my hands onto my hips.

All three guys nodded.

“Well, first,” I said, cocking my head to one side, “you
call
her.” I stared straight at Wes who hung his head and mouthed a silent ‘
fuck.’
Did he really think I’d ignore it? Well, actually, he was probably used to not worrying about whether he made a girl unhappy with missed calls or not. In fact, I didn’t think I’d ever seen him with the same girl twice. “If you want her to stick around, then you should call her and let her know she’s on your mind.”

“That’s true.” Wes looked at Ridge and nodded. “You should call her.” My eyes widened. “Not calling her would be a huge mistake.” He set his eyes on me and stepped through the boys, making his way toward me.

The boys stood firmly planted in their places with confusion spread across their faces. I held my hand up to keep Wes from getting too close. I knew if I could see into his eyes, I’d be more forgiving than I was feeling, but he ignored my protests and continued his long, purposeful strides toward me.

When he stopped directly in front of me, he carefully reached up, touching his fingers to my chin. When I didn’t pull away, his timid touch relaxed, and he slid his fingers to the base of my head, cradling my neck in his hand. He rubbed his thumb along my jawline, and his eyes darted around my face. Searching. Searching. Searching. Then cut to my eyes. My breath stopped in my throat at the sincerity that pooled in those eyes below his thick lashes. “I’m sorry,” he whispered.