“Yes ma’am,” he said, his voice closer now. I reluctantly looked back in his direction and almost had a heart attack when I came face to face with his perfect chest. I wasn’t sure when he had moved, because apparently Colt Morgan moves like a ninja, but now he stood right beside me, invading my personal space once again. His eyes were dancing with laughter as he looked down at me. Having Colt so close was one thing on its own, but in front of his mother was just mortifying. I prayed she couldn’t see what it was doing to me.
“Olivia knows I’m here for whatever she needs,” he continued, one side of his mouth lifting.
Well fuzz. Now I really needed to get the heck out of there. I swallowed loudly, whipping my head back around so fast I was likely to break my neck.
“Okay, well I’m going to head back home now,” I said, my voice breathless. I was plummeting into humiliation hell at an alarming rate.
Code red. Abandon position, soldier.
Backing away, I smiled weakly at Ms. Morgan, trying to ignore the question written on her face. “Have a great rest of your day,” I offered lamely.
“Colt, why don’t you walk Olivia home,” Ms. Morgan suggested. My brain screamed NO! While some other part of me, that was still hot and bothered by the incredible vision of him standing there without a shirt on, screamed a loud, resounding YES!
“He doesn’t have to –”
“I’ll walk you over,” he said, turning to walk back down the hallway. He came back out a second later with a shirt on, and that stupid part of me I was trying to ignore was slightly disappointed at the loss of skin.
I said another goodbye to Ms. Morgan and hurried out of the kitchen into the garage, grabbing my umbrella. Outside was still pouring heavily. I stood at the entrance to the garage, steeling myself to run back over to my house. Colt walked up and stood beside me.
“You don’t have to walk me home,” I said. “I just live next door.” Like he didn’t already know that.
“I don’t mind,” he replied. I looked up at him and he smiled, not a smug smile, just a regular one that had my heart beating erratically. Why did he have to be so good looking? This was why I had avoided him for so many years. Looking directly at Colt Morgan was like staring into the sun. One could go blind from over-exposure if they stared too long. I glanced back outside, forcing my pulse to slow through deep breaths.
“Ready to make a run for it?” he asked.
I held up my umbrella. “I don’t really need to run,” I said. “And how are you going to get back without getting soaked?”
He shrugged. “I don’t mind getting a little wet.”
Why did that sound so dirty? I forced myself not to look at him. Opening the umbrella, I held it over the both of us even though I knew it wouldn’t do much. The rain was the slanting kind that umbrellas seem to be useless against. I really didn’t want to run back, but the sudden feeling of Colt’s hand on my lower back had me jumping forward, and moving quickly, trying to get away from the searing warmth there. He didn’t miss a beat though, and stayed with me the entire time.
We rushed up my driveway, practically falling through the front door into our foyer. I started laughing as I looked down at my soaked clothing. My hair hung in clumps in front of my face. The feeling of wet jeans was quite possibly the worst. Colt laughed too, shaking himself like a wet dog.
“So much for the umbrella,” I said, closing the worthless contraption. I leaned it in the corner, before grabbing the ends of my hair and twisting as much water out of them as I could. When I looked up, Colt was staring at me in a way that had my stomach clenching. His eyes dropped down my front slowly, his lips parting on a breath. It was then that I realized I was wearing a white t-shirt…and red bra. Why was I wearing a red bra? Why? Because I’m an idiot, that’s why. I mean, who doesn’t wear a red bra with a white t-shirt when all they were planning on doing that day was staying inside their house, away from their sexy-ass next door neighbour?
My arm twitched in the need to cover myself up, but at that point, why bother? I cleared my throat, not even looking down to see what I looked like right then. Maybe if I just pretended nothing was wrong, it would all just go away…
Colt’s eyes returned to mine. I watched as his throat constricted as he swallowed. He almost looked nervous now, which made me even more so. This was Colt Morgan, what would he have to be nervous about? Especially around me?
“So this is your house, huh?” he said, breaking the silence. He looked around slowly, his body stiff. I used that opportunity to glance down, and dear lord, there she was. My bright, Clifford-red bra, in all her glory. Just wonderful. I needed to change, ASAP. “Funny, I’ve never been in here before,” he was saying as he walked further into my house. He stopped at the entrance to the living room, his eyes roaming over everything. My house looked a lot like someone had thrown up floral patterns and dusty rose all over everything. My mom had considerably questionable taste in décor.
“Why would you have been?” I blurted out, feeling rude as soon as it was out there. He didn’t answer.
“What were you doing, you know, before you came over to help my mom?” he asked, turning back to me.
“I was working on a painting,” I answered.
“Really? Can I see it?”
Colt wanted to see my painting? This was weird, but I didn’t want to be rude again, so I nodded my head. “Sure.” I started upstairs, Colt following behind. I was quickly running over the state of my room in my mind as we made our way up, praying that I hadn’t left anything embarrassing lying around. I was usually pretty good at keeping my room neat, but it would be just my luck that I had left something on the floor sure to humiliate me.
I watched Colt take in my room and realized how god-awfully juvenile it looked. The last time I had decorated it was when I was twelve. The walls were still the same shade of pale yellow, the bedspread white with ruffles. Seeing Colt Morgan standing in possibly the most girlie room in existence was like seeing a bear in a tutu. It was just all sorts of wrong.
He walked over to where I had some old paintings displayed on the wall, his face not giving away a single thought going through his head. I stood nervously by the door, my breath held tight in my chest. I wished he would just say something. Anything. Even making fun of me would make this situation feel better than it did right then.
“You’re really talented, you know that?” he said, moving his face closer to one I had painted of a little girl running through a sprinkler. I couldn’t remember when that was, but I did remember the little girl. Her name had been Casey. She had moved away shortly after that. I had always loved that painting. The look on her face as she ran through the water had been priceless. I always thought I had captured it perfectly.
“Thanks,” I replied. I hadn’t expected him to say that.
He walked over to the one I was working on, and stood before it, arms crossed over his chest. Hesitantly, I went to stand beside him, looking at my work like I was him, seeing it for the first time.
“Who is he?” he asked.
“Some old man I saw at the park the other day,” I explained. “He goes to that bench on the same day every year where he met the woman of his dreams. They promised to always meet there, even though they couldn’t be together, because they’re both married. She’s never shown up, but that’s never stopped him from sitting in that same spot, on the same day, year after year. Always hoping that this year will be the one she shows up.”
I saw him look at me from the corner of my eye, so I turned to meet his gaze. “Really? That’s…sad. He told you all that?”
I laughed. “No, not at all. That’s just the story I created for him while I worked. He was probably just there to feed the ducks.”
His mouth dropped open. “You just made that all up?”
I shrugged, looking back at the painting. “I always make up a story to go along with each painting. It makes them more interesting when people ask about them.”
Unexpectedly, he starte
d to laugh. I looked back at him with a smile. “Pretty good, huh?”
He nodded. “I totally believed you. The painting’s amazing,” he said, looking at it once more. “I don’t know how you do it,” he continued, walking over to sit on my bed. He leaned back on his elbows, completely at ease. I, on the other hand, was not. Colt Morgan was sitting on my bed. What universe was I in? Seriously. I couldn’t even remember what he had just said, so I just stared at him like an idiot.
“What are you doing for the rest of the day?”
Besides letting my imagination run away with itself, thanks to this scene before me? Probably not a whole lot. “Painting, I guess?” I answered, it sounding like a question.
“We should go down to the lake,” he suggested.
“It’s raining.”
“Not anymore.”
I turned to look out the window, and sure enough the rain had completely stopped. Crazy summer weather. The sun was shining brightly now, glistening off the wet pavement. “Why?” I asked, still looking out the window.
“Why what?” he asked.
I turned to look at him. “Why do you want to go to the lake with me? I mean, it’s not like we’re friends. Why do you want to hang out all of a sudden?” It killed me to ask, but I needed to understand what had changed. I wasn’t going to pretend like this was normal. I knew my place in the social ranks of our school. A guy like him didn’t hang out with a girl like me. I was quiet, nerdy, and kept to myself. I didn’t go to parties or sit at the cool table at school. I’d always been the outcast. He knew it and I knew it. So why would anything be different now?
He was staring at me, his face unreadable. I really wanted him to answer the question, but he just lay there, silently regarding me.
“I don’t know what’s going on around here,” I said in frustration, “but I’m the same Olivia Banks I was two years ago. Why is everyone acting different toward me? I’m not going to all of a sudden be cool, or stop being the weird girl who paints all the time. You know that, right? I’m not like Reagan and the others. I’m just – me, the girl who doesn’t get noticed.”
My face burned from my verbal vomit. It was a bad habit of mine when I was feeling stressed, or in a situation that made me nervous. Both of these applied to my current situation.
Colt stood up and walked toward me slowly like he was afraid I would bolt from the room. The thought had crossed my mind. He stopped so close I could feel the heat rolling off him like I had in his kitchen. He reached his hand up slowly. I held my breath, keeping my gaze locked with his. Gently, he stroked his thumb across my cheek, a wary smile lifting the corners of his lips.
“You have blue paint on your cheek,” he said, his voice rougher than it had been before. I wasn’t sure what to say to that. His hand was still cupping my face. Where his skin touched mine was tingling in a way I wasn’t used to. I wanted so badly to lean into his touch, but forced myself to remain still. Finally he let his hand drop back to his side, a small sigh escaping his mouth. “I’ve always noticed you, Olivia,” he said. I blinked slowly. What? “Let’s just go and chill at the lake. It’s not a big deal if we just hang out. You can even call Ella to come and I’ll call Rannon.”
Well that didn’t answer any of the questions. And yet, I found myself giving in to his request. Slowly, I nodded my head, releasing a breath. “Fine,” I said.
He chuckled. “You don’t have to seem so excited about it.” He walked over to my door, stopping to look over his shoulder at me. “I’m going to go get my swim shorts on. You might want to change too,” he said with a wink, before disappearing through the door.
I looked down at my shirt and moaned loudly, hitting myself in the forehead with my palm. I had totally forgotten about my transparent shirt throughout that entire conversation. Perfect. I had pretty much just stood in my bra in front of Colt Morgan for the last fifteen minutes. I wanted nothing more than to crawl into a hole and stay there until it was time to leave for college, when I’d be able to leave this town and not have to see these people anymore.
I wasn’t going to do that though because Colt was waiting for me to go to the lake with him, and call me stupid, I was actually going to do it. Why pass up a chance to spend more time with him, even if it did confuse me? I texted Ella, who replied in what had to be record timing, accompanied by about a million exclamation marks. Stripping off my clothes, I found the yellow bikini Ella always said looked amazing on me. My mind raced as I got ready, swiping a bit of gloss on my lips, and pulling a pretty, blue sundress over my suit. The whole time that one line was repeating in my head, over and over, making my heart race like I’d just run a marathon.
I’ve always noticed you, Olivia.
Eight
I dream of painting and then I paint my dreams – Vincent Van Gogh
Colt
My back slammed against the door the second I got to my room. I let my head fall back on the wood, closing my eyes. Holy shit. I’ve never wanted to grab a girl and kiss her as badly as I did just now with Olivia. She was so gorgeous, and she had absolutely no idea. Seeing her stand there, her red bra taunting me beneath the sheer fabric of her t-shirt, the most vulnerable look on her face as she had asked me questions I didn’t know how to answer, almost ruined me. I wanted to take her into my arms and show her just how special she was. She wasn’t ‘the weird girl’, and I loved that she was nothing like those other girls. Didn’t she see how much better she was than them? Than all of us?
I told her I noticed her, and I did. Always had, and probably always would. The more I talked to her, the more I realized she was even more amazing than I had thought when I’d watch her from afar. I always recognized how beautiful she was, but I also knew she was more than that. At school I would watch her sometimes without her knowing it. I’d see her laugh with Ella, or help another student during class. I knew she was a nice person, caring and considerate of others. I’d see her walking the halls, completely comfortable with doing so alone, when most people were so insecure they’d always have another person with them.
She was stronger than anyone else I knew at our school, and she had absolutely no idea. Oh I noticed her alright, and it was driving me crazy. She was so much better than I was, but there was no way I was walking away from her now. I had wasted years not getting to know her better; I wasn’t going to waste any more.
I texted Rannon quickly and got changed. I don’t know why I had suggested the lake, but the idea of Olivia in a bikini, all slippery and wet was reason enough. When I got back outside, she wasn’t there. I stood by myself for a couple minutes before her front door open and she came out wearing a short, blue dress. Her legs were so long, all I could do was imagine them wrapped around my waist. I gave my head a quick shake. It was insane how quickly my thoughts turned dirty when looking at her.
She walked over to me, nervously tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. I didn’t know why, but the fact that I made her anxious made me happy. It meant I was having some sort of effect on her. I leaned against my car, watching the way her hips moved as she walked. Thankfully I was wearing sunglasses so she couldn’t see the way my eyes burned.
“Hey,” she said, tucking that strand of hair back again.
I smiled. “Ella coming?”
She nodded. “She should be here any minute.”
“Same with Rannon,” I said, watching her. She looked everywhere but at me. It was kind of funny. Her eyes landed on my baby, her brows furrowing.
“Why don’t you drive your car?” she asked.
“Because she’s not running that well right now,” I said. “I’m working to fix it. Should have it done by the fall – if I’m lucky. Some of the parts are hard to find.”
She nodded her head like she understood. I highly doubted she did. There was nothing about Olivia Banks that suggested she was a grease monkey. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you drive it,” she said.
“I have,” I said, pushing off it to look down at my one and only possession, “just n
ot for very long. My dad failed to mention that it was on its last leg when he got it.”
She laughed. I looked over, eyebrows raised. “Sorry,” she said, still smiling. “I just can’t believe your dad would get you a car when you were, what? Thirteen?”
I chuckled. “Yeah, he wasn’t the brightest,” I admitted, rubbing the back of my neck. Or the most responsible or reliable. “Your dad is great,” I said, not knowing why.
She squinted back at her house, her hand shading her eyes against the sun, like she’d see him standing there. “Yeah,” she said, looking back in my general direction, “he’s pretty great.”
“I think he’s the only male adult who doesn’t look at me like I’m some sort of freak or hooligan about to cause trouble.”
Her lips pressed together, her eyes finally focusing on me. “You’re neither of those things,” she said.
I laughed lightly, breaking her eye contact to look at the ground. “Yeah, well, most parents see my tats and think I’m the spawn of Satan.”
“Well my dad’s always liked you.” I looked back up to see her smiling to herself. “He always said that he could tell you were watching out for me…” Her voice trailed off as she looked up with wide eyes, her mouth gaping open. Her face had gone white, a panicked look there like she hadn’t meant to say what she did. All I could do was grin, because her dad was one smart man. It was no wonder he liked me. He must have caught me watching her in the past. Some people were just way more observant than others.
“He’s old and senile,” she said quickly, waving her hands dismissively.
“No he’s not,” I said, looking at her closely. She fidgeted from foot to foot, her hands clutching the rolled up towel she was holding like it was her lifeline. The silence was tense until it was broken by a car door slamming. I looked over just as she turned her head to see Ella walking over to us.
“Party’s here!” she called out with a hoot.
Brush Strokes Page 7