Dust

by Mandy Harbin

  "Was your mother evil?"

  I glared at him. "No. She was wonderful. She had her problems, but she was a beautiful, compassionate woman. Just because she got mixed up with that man doesn't mean she was like him."

  "Exactly."

  My shoulders slumped. "I see what you're getting at. But I—"

  "No, Killian. You don't understand. It takes two people to make a baby. She's as much a part of you as he is. Why are you so focused on your father's role in creating your life instead of giving your mother any credit?"

  "I..." But I didn't know what to say to that. He had a point. A good one. It didn't change the fact that my father was a crazy man; his DNA was a part of me, but so was my mother's. Maybe the good in her helped keep the beast within me leashed. It was plausible. If I were 100 percent evil, there'd be no logical side to me. Yet, I usually never acted before thinking. Gabe and I had horrible baggage, and he knew just how to provoke me. His case was unique to my regular interactions with people. I still had a short temper, got pissed too easily, but I didn't just attack people out of the blue. There was a side of me that fought those urges. Not necessarily a good side, but a decent one. "I get it, Mr. Noble. I do."

  He nodded slowly, relaxed his arms, and picked up his pencil. "Any encounters with women over the last week?"

  "I don't see how that's any of your business." My response was met with a quirked eyebrow. "Fine. Yes."

  "And you still don't want to see a woman regularly?" He was back to looking at what he was writing.

  Why did Liv's face come to mind just then? Technically, she was a woman and I did see her outside of the classroom. But we weren't intimate. "I made a female friend. We're just friends though," I said quickly.

  That got his attention. "How did that come about?"

  I could go into all the details, but I knew he would pick them apart. I'd need to keep this as condensed as possible. "She's a transfer student who needs help in art and is going to help me with my research paper because she's a writing major. In fact, the first time we met to work on it, she had an awesome idea on how to tackle the paper."

  "Interesting."

  Fuck, I knew he'd read too much into it.

  "Do you like her?"

  I looked at my phone to see how much time I had left of this. Too long. "Sure. She's nice. Different."

  "Different how?"

  Why the hell had I called her different? Of course Mr. Noble would lock onto that word. His knack for picking apart my words was disturbingly accurate. "She just is. She's a friend," I reiterated. It was nice texting with her. She was easy to talk to.

  "There's nothing wrong with having female friends, Killian."

  "I know that." But why did he feel the need to tell me this?

  "Do you?"

  Great, back to the mind game that was psychology. "Yes. I know it's okay to have friends of any sex. I just don't want to ruin our friendship with anything intimate."

  "You're not attracted to her?"

  "I didn't say that." She was plain but pretty. Then again, the female form was a beautiful thing, and I liked that she didn't flaunt how beautiful she actually was. "But that's not the point."

  He stared at me, not saying anything. Finally he nodded. He wrote something down, but I didn't care. As long as he was going to drop the subject of Liv.

  "How's your home life?"

  I leaned back and rubbed my thighs. "Not good. Granddad is having a rough time. I don't think he has much of it left, actually. He's been talking about some guardian angel coming to save me." I shook my head. "And he's been hiding Grandma's ashes almost daily now. Even hid her outside. I called some nursing homes to see how I should handle this. Their advice was to either hire a nurse or enroll him in an adult day center. I like the day center idea because he'd be around other people his age and maybe find new hobbies, but he's a very private man with a lot of money. I don't think his pride would handle a daycare for old people." I'd called a few companies who specialized in in-home nursing care, and actually found one that would care for him and find ways to get him out of the house and around people his age without him being stuck at a center all day. It was expensive, but the better option.

  "Killian, the fact that you take care of your grandfather shows how good of a person you are. If you ever doubt yourself, I want you to think about him. And remember your mom. There were and still are good people in your life. Focus on the positive. Don't give your energy to the negative."

  "I'll try." And I would, but I wasn't going to make any promises.

  * * *

  I swirled my brush in the red paint for the next stroke of color. The painting I'd been working on this semester was abstract, but taking on a beauty of it's own. It still represented death. Most of my abstract work signified it in one way or anotherto me. To others, they were whatever they wanted the pictures to be. That was what made abstract work perfect. It forced the person studying it to find his own interpretation of the same piece of art. Meanings were endless. Maybe I was more abstract than I'd always believed. My recent session with Mr. Noble had stayed with me much longer than any of the others. It was if this time I wanted to believe a better facet of me would prevail over the ugly ones.

  I dipped my brush in the cleaning solution and wiped it off. I wasn't finished with it—or my internal thought process on what it might represent—but Liv would be here any minute to work on her art project before class. I didn't want to waste any time with my stuff when she got here. By the time I'd put the last of my brushes in the canvas carrier she'd walked into the art room.

  Mrs. Sutherland always left this room unlocked during her office hours, so I'd come during the period before our class to get a head start on my work. Since I was the only one who was ever here during this time, I knew when I chose this place Liv and I would be able to get some work done without interruption.

  "Hi," she said and dropped her backpack by the easel next to mine.

  "Hey, how's it going?"

  "Okay. How's your paper coming along?"

  I started to tell her I'd finished the first two mini papers already, but we weren't here for me. "Oh no. Today's all about you, firecracker."

  She huffed out a breath and then turned to face her easel. "Fine."

  "Let me see your hand."

  She lifted her hand and waved at me. I wanted to smile at the little sass she displayed, but refrained. "Your artwork."

  "Yes, sir." She pulled out her sketchpad and flipped to the page of her drawing. She started to put it on the easel but I took it from her to inspect a little more closely.

  "Nice work." I glanced at her and she shrugged.

  "All the erase marks look like wrinkled skin. It'll do."

  "Don't sell yourself short, Liv. It's good." I flashed my gaze at her. "Learn to take a compliment." I winked to lessen the impact of my words, flipped to the next page in her sketchpad, and then placed it on her easel. "This week is still life." I opened the text and showed her the bowl of fruit she was going to be drawing.

  "It's going to look like a bunch of circles. If this were a painting assignment, I'd at least be able to distinguish the circles between oranges and apples with a little color, but with sketching, it'll look like crap."

  Frowning, I said, "No it won't. That's why I'm here." I pulled out my pencil and the sketchpad I'd brought . "I want you to watch me while I draw it myself before you attempt it."

  "You could just draw it for me," she mumbled under her breath as she reached for her pencil.

  "And you could just write my paper. But I don't think either of us want to get kicked out of school. Now quit bitching and watch." I started with the pear in the middle of the bowl. "I'm outlining it first. See?"

  "Yeah. What kind of pencil is that? A regular mechanical one?"

  I shook my head. "No, it's a Clutch pencil. Similar concept since I can change out the lead. When you sharpen wooden pencils it changes the weight of them," I said as I continued to outline the rest of the fruit. "Newer artists
usually use them, but once they practice with other pencils, they tend to find something different and stick with it. If not, then they'll stick with the wooden pencils. Some artists do amazing work with regular pencils. Those are better when it comes to outlining or smaller details, I think. The harder the lead the softer the lines." I stopped and looked at her. She was staring at me and not watching me draw. "What?"

  She blushed. "Er, nothing."

  Interesting. I smiled at her. "Then why are you blushing?"

  "I am not blushing!"

  "Tell that to your face, firecracker."

  "Ugh, you are such a punk."

  I chuckled at that. "I think that's the nicest name I've ever been called."

  "Then I'll try harder next time," she grumbled as she snatched my pencil out of my hand. "Is it my turn to draw?"

  "You're going to draw with my pencil? Yours is sitting by the blank piece of paper in front of you."

  "You said when newbies try other pencils, they like those better. I'm trying it."

  "It's not a toy," I teased. "Big time artists use it. I had to work my way to it."

  "I won't break your precious pencil." She rolled her eyes and started drawing the outline of the pear. "You have it here with you, so I might was well try it out. Play with it a little." She shrugged.

  "You can play with mine any time," I said suggestively.

  What the fuck?

  The words were out of my mouth before I had time to filter them. Her head snapped up and she gasped, catching the meaning behind them. Yeah, as if I'd left any room for doubt. I hadn't really meant to say that, but now I wasn't sure how to fix it.

  As I stared at her, quickly grappling for an easy subject change, her breath sped up, pushing her breasts against the brown tee she had on. Her nipples were hard peaks, and my dick twitched as I took in the sight of her. Yeah, she'd been beautiful before. Seeing her aroused was breathtaking.

  Holy shit. I needed that subject change right now. "That looks good. There, I mean. The circle." Fuck! Now I sounded like a horny virgin who didn't know how to talk to girls. I took a deep breath and shut my eyes. I pointed to her paper when I could focus again. "Bring the line in a little toward the bottom."

  She blinked at me and then quickly turned to face the sketchpad. "Like this?" she asked, her voice pitched higher than before. She cleared her throat and waited.

  "Yeah," I finally said. "Go a little more though."

  She did and then looked at me. "Is that what you mean?"

  "Not exactly." Get your shit together, man! I stepped over to her and stood behind her. "You're holding the pencil wrong. I'm going to reposition it and then hold your hand while I draw a few strokes. I want you to feel what I'm doing."

  She looked at me over her shoulder and nodded. I reached for her hand then and pulled the pencil out a little. "This will give you more control."

  "Okay." I watched the side of her throat move as she swallowed. I was also close enough to smell her fruit-scented shampoo. Thoughts of her being good enough to eat had blood rushing to other parts of my body, but I ignored my physical reaction to her.

  "Relax your hand a little. We're going to draw some of the other outlines." After she complied, I pressed the tip of the pencil against the paper and began to draw.

  "Oh," she said slowly. I removed my hand from hers and stepped back as she continued to draw using the same easy motions I'd just shown her.

  "Good job."

  She paused and briefly smiled over her shoulder at me before continuing with her drawing. "Is that the same painting you were working on before?" she asked and tilted her head toward my workstation without taking her eyes off her drawing. I took another calming breath as I felt my body relaxing. Art I could talk about. Get my mind and my dick off other topics.

  "Yes. It's part of my graduation portfolio. Mrs. Sutherland is on my advisement committee."

  "But I thought your major was graphic design."

  "My major is art. Graphic design will pay the bills."

  "Ah. I see." She stopped and looked at me. "I think I've caught up to you now." She glanced at both of our sketches. I looked closely at hers.

  "You're a natural." I smiled at her and she rolled her eyes.

  She put my pencil down next to her paper and looked at me. "So what are you painting?"

  "Death."

  She frowned, but it wasn't a look of disappointment or even judgment. It was contemplative. "Can I see it?"

  I never let anybody see my work before it was finished. I opened my mouth to tell her this, but what came out was, "Sure."

  She stepped over to the other side of my easel and picked it up from where I'd propped it on the floor. She put it up onto the stand, covering my partial rendering of the bowl of fruit.

  I was frozen in place as she studied it, wondering what she'd think of it. Normally I didn't care what other people thought of my work. Either they liked it or they didn't.

  But I was damn near coming out of my skin with anticipation, waiting for her opinion. For whatever reason, it mattered.

  "I like it." She smiled at me, and the air left my lungs in a whoosh.

  I knew I was grinning like a fool, but I couldn't help it. "Really? You're not just saying that because I showed you the difference between drawing a pear and drawing an apple, are you?"

  She laughed. "Oh please, I knew the difference. I just wanted you to feel special."

  I put my hand over my heart and pretended to take a couple of wounded steps backward. "Cut me to the core, why don't you?"

  Shaking her head, she said, "Whatever, Mr. Hotshot Artist Man. You're the cat's meow. Better?"

  "Only if I can make you purr."

  What the hell was wrong with me? I'd been given a free pass from the last innuendo, so I threw another one out for fun? Jesus, maybe I just needed to get laid.

  "Does that bullshit actually work on women?" She laughed.

  I felt heat rising and it wasn't because I was turned on. I never blushed. Ever.

  Until now.

  "I don't know. You tell me? On second thought, don't answer that. Just consider it a little harmless flirting, okay?"

  Her brow wrinkled. Great. What was she thinking now? Women were too hard to read, which was why I usually didn't try.

  "Harmless?" she said slowly, but I wasn't sure if she was asking because she wanted to make sure I understood or because she was offended. She hadn't seemed offended before when we'd talked about not hooking up. Maybe I needed to reiterate my stance on the subject.

  Because it had not changed...and would not.

  But I didn't want to be harsh. I liked keeping my firecracker playful.

  Mine? Oh hell no. I definitely needed to get laid. I'd be making a few phone calls, getting this taken care of tonight. But I still needed to keep things light with Liv. "Yeah, harmless. Remember, no breaching of the panties. I can chant the mantra daily to you, oh righteous one, if you need regular confirmation of my virtue."

  She laughed out loud, which made me chuckle. At least I hadn't pissed her off.

  One of the students from our class walked into the room, and I looked at my watch. "Class starts in ten. I think you can handle the rest of the still life on your own. If you have problems with it in class, we can get together before class starts next time, and I can see where you're at on it."

  Without even pausing, she said, "This is my only class today, and I have several essays to do in my other classes later this week, so you can come over later tonight if you want."

  My heart jumped. Because I wanted to.

  It was an innocent offer, but being alone with Liv in her dorm room was all kinds of not happening.

  "Can't tonight. Got plans." Her eyes got slightly bigger and I clenched my teeth. She understood what I was saying, and I felt like a jackass. I couldn't leave it like that. Even if I needed to get laid, I didn't want her to think she wasn't more important than a random hookup.

  Because she was a friend. That was all. But friends were
important.

  "Do you get out much, Liv?"

  Her jaw worked as she stared. "Um, I guess."

  "That's a no." Just as I'd suspected. "Let's go to the bar and hang out on Saturday night."

  If her eyes got bigger earlier, they were about to pop out of her head now. "What?" she screeched.

  "Oh, I see. Let me see if I can explain. There're these places that used to be called watering holes back in the day. What happens is people congregate at them and imbibe beverages with alcohol content. The trend continues today."

  "Okay, smart ass. I know what a bar is, though I'm surprised you know what the word imbibe means. Why do you want to go?"

  I stared blankly at her. "Didn't I just explain it? Alcohol. Beer. Darts. Pool. It's called fun, Liv, and you need some in your life. So how about it?"

  "Why with me? That's what I meant," she muttered.

  I half-smiled at her. "Because we're friends and friends hang out. Oh hey, you can tell Jewel. She can come with. I can pick you both up around ten."

  "At night?" she balked.

  "You've got a lot to learn about fun, firecracker. Yes, at night. What do you say? And before you answer, know I'm not taking no for one."

  She stared at me, glanced down, and then nodded slowly. "Okay, fine. But I'm keeping your fancy-shmancy drawing pencil." She snatched it off her easel and pocketed it before I had a chance to reply.

  I chuckled and shoved my hands in my pocket as evidence I wouldn't try to take it from her. If she wanted it, she could have it. I had three more.

  But I wasn't telling her that.

  8

  No way could I go out looking like this. No. No. No. "No."

  "Yes," Jewel said as she pinned my hair to the side. She'd already pulled out the industrial brushes to paint my face. "Oh, this is going to look so good with the streaks in your hair."

  Barbie was playing dress-up with the wrong doll. "You are out of your mind if you think I'm gonna go to the bar looking like a high-class hooker." It was my own fault for letting her put me in a barely-there skirt and form-fitting shirt. I drew the line at tacky fishnet stockings, but I should've drawn it a lot sooner.