Space For Breathing: A Rock Star Romance

by I. K. Velasco

  "Me?"

  "Yes," I replied. "I'm feeling a bit of inspiration myself."

  I set up the easel and carefully placed the canvas on it. I pulled up the chair from the corner of the room and sat down, arranging my paints and brushes around me. When I was satisfied, I examined my subject. Jacob was watching me carefully, a soft smile tugging on the corners of his lips. The lighting was exactly how I wanted it—the setting sun filtering through the half-drawn blinds with a pinkish-orange glow. But there was something…

  "Something's not quite right…" I said, my thoughts, escaping. "I need to you to take off your clothes."

  "You want me to take off my clothes," he mimicked, his eyes growing wider.

  "Yes," I replied. "It isn't as if I haven't seen it before."

  Jacob laughed, uproariously. "Mm…sassiness becomes you, Lady Maeva."

  He carefully placed the guitar flat on the bed and reached up to unbutton his shirt. His eyes stayed locked on mine, devious mirth playing at their corners. I had to smile. I got up from my chair and moved towards him. I pulled his hands away from his chest and pressed them onto his lap, and I unbuttoned the last few buttons on his shirt. As I pushed the material away from his shoulders, I impulsively ran my hands over the smooth skin of his chest. I moved my hands lower. The temperature in the room seemed to rise as I my fingertips grazed the soft trail of blonde hair along his abdomen. I looked up into his face, noticing the sheen of sweat forming on his upper lip. I was torn between kissing the moisture away and capturing that slight detail on canvas. I pushed away the former and decided to concentrate on painting. I tossed the remainder of Jacob's clothing aside.

  "Okay, please sit back the way you were before."

  "With the guitar?"

  "Yes, please."

  He did as I ordered, never taking his eyes off mine. I sat back down at my easel. The sight of him was mesmerizing. Tanned, golden skin, glowing in the waning sunlight, the guitar cradled delicately on his lap, light brown hair mussed and curly across his forehead, a trusting, sweet smile on his lips. I began quickly, wanting to capture him just as he was.

  My charcoal pencil scratched against the faintly rough texture of the gesso. I traced his silhouette, the pencil outlining the contours of his lean, lanky body. I sketched gently, using light lines and strokes, like soft, tickling caresses.

  "Maeva?" Jacob asked, quietly.

  "Yes?" I replied.

  "Am I allowed to talk?"

  I blinked a few times, suddenly realizing that we had been silent for quite a long time. "Of course. You can move a little too if you want, just not too much. I like the way the shadows are falling over you right now."

  Jacob heaved a sigh, relaxing a little. He began to strum his guitar again. Not really playing anything, just making some noise to fill the quiet.

  "So, how long have you been painting?" he asked.

  "Oh, ever since I could get my little fingers around a brush."

  I began to mix the paint, trying to match the translucent amber glow falling over Jacob's face.

  "Mr. Owen always encouraged me to be creative. I've been drawing and painting since I was a little girl. And dancing. God. I used to just throw the worst tantrums at Rosa because I didn't want to go to dance lessons."

  He laughed. "I remember arguing with my mom on more than one occasion because I didn't want to practice the piano."

  "But I'm glad they made me do it you know? There's just nothing like performing," I continued. I suddenly realized what I had said. "How silly of me. Of course, you know that."

  "I think I'd forgotten it, though," he said, quietly. "But you reminded me last night."

  "Did I?"

  "Yes," he said, smiling. "After I got over the shock of seeing you on stage, that is."

  I laughed. "I'm sorry I had to do that to you. They asked me at the last minute to perform, and I wanted to surprise you. The look on your face was just precious! I thought your eyes were going to fall out of your head."

  He chuckled. "Was it that bad?"

  "No, I'm kidding," I replied, mirthfully. "But it was definitely adorable."

  He smiled, his eyes sparkling. "Well, you looked beautiful."

  "Thank you," I said, feeling the heat creep into my cheeks.

  "You're just so multi-talented. Let's see…you garden, you paint, you dance. Is there anything that you don't do?"

  "Well, growing up in this big house without any playmates meant that I had to find stuff to do to keep myself entertained." I remembered the siblings that I left behind and pushed the memories away.

  He laughed. "I've never had that problem. Riley was enough to keep me entertained."

  "It must have been fun."

  "Oh, definitely. I mean the whole growth of this love for music was because of my brother."

  He frowned, his eyes turning inward. I stopped for a moment to examine melancholy look that had fallen over Jacob's features.

  "You miss him, don't you?"

  He focused back on me, the deep brown pools of his eyes, full of sadness and regret. "Yeah, I do."

  I could sense something from him—like he was brimming. He needed to tell me. "What happened?"

  He took his hand off the neck of the guitar and ran his fingers through his hair. He took a deep breath, and I could see the tension winding tight around his shoulders.

  "I don't really know," he said, his words laced with so much uncertainty. "Music was…was mine—the one thing that I could create and mold and make my own. But something happened along the way. Maybe it was the fame, the realization that there was more to it than writing songs and playing my guitar and sharing that with people."

  He was laying himself bare for me--inside and out. My chest tightened, and I was glad to have the brush in my hand to distract me a little. As I listened to his words, I painted faster. I wanted to capture him, hold him within the canvas and keep him safe from whatever pain he was feeling.

  "Even when you think about performing. Thirty seconds of thunderous applause comes with so much. I started to question whether it was worth it. And somewhere along the way, I lost the peace that it used to give me."

  I looked up from the canvas. Our eyes met, the turmoil in his causing my heart to ache.

  Jacob

  "Do you think you'll find it again?" she asked. She looked so beautiful—her head tilted slightly to one side, the brush in her hand poised over the canvas, her eyes deep and glassy, examining me as if she wanted to get inside my head. It wasn't intrusive. I somehow wanted her there.

  "If you had asked me that two weeks ago, I probably would have said no," I replied. I couldn't understand what made me trust her so much. I hadn't uttered these words to anyone but to my own psyche. "But I'm more hopeful for that now," I continued. I wondered how much I really believed those words.

  Maeva was quiet for a few minutes as she continued to paint. I knew that she was in that place—that void where there is only the creation.

  With one last stroke, her face erupted into a beautifully wide grin. "Hmm…I think that you're on your way, Jacob." She gestured for me to see her work.

  I placed my guitar flat on the bed and stood up. I thought about grabbing the sheet off the bed to cover myself, but it seemed unnecessary somehow.

  She reached for my hand when I approached, tugging me to the other side of the canvas. My jaw dropped when I saw her painting. The swirls of color matched the room stylistically, making her scene almost dreamlike, surreal. But what struck me the most was the emotion on the figure's countenance—face pursed in concentration, the passion evident in the slump of the shoulders, the

  crease on the forehead.

  "Is that really me?" I tore my eyes away from the image and met Maeva's gaze. Her eyes danced delightfully.

  "Yes. How I see you."

  I felt my chest tightening. I remembered the longing, of not being able to enjoy the music, not being able to find my solace, for so long. I wondered if my moment of creation was just a temporary thing�
�a fleeting instance that I could never have again. "Did I really feel that?" I said, my worries escaping.

  "You did today, didn't you?" she asked. Our eyes met, and she smiled reassuringly. "That ability to create has always been and will always be in you. You'll find it again. I know you will." Maeva said the words with such certainty that I allowed myself to believe them.

  "Thank you for being my subject," she said, squeezing my fingers still entwined through hers.

  She smiled at me, filling my chest with warmth. I reached over to remove the brush from her hand, a small dot of paint accidentally spotting one of my fingers. Maeva took my hand again and wiped it clean with one of her rags. I kneeled in front of her, placing my hands on her lap.

  "No, thank you," I replied, meeting her gaze.

  She lowered her head slightly, her eyes falling over my hands. I began to stroke, pushing up the cotton of her short sundress, so I could feel her skin. She reached up to touch my cheek. I turned my head to kiss her fingertips.

  Knock knock.

  "Mr. Jacob? It's time for dinner!" Rosa hollered from outside the bedroom door.

  Maeva and I stood motionless for a moment. I scrambled to the bed to find my pants, frantically searching the room. I could see the knob turning slowly. "Mr. Jacob?" Rosa called, softly. The door began to swing open, and I struggled to pull up my zipper.

  Rosa's eyes fell on me first. "Oops. So sorry, Mr. Jacob," she said, turning her head down. "I just wanted to let you know…" She saw Maeva then, and her eyes widened.

  Maeva smiled, but I could see the faint flush of pink tingeing her cheeks. "Hi Rosa."

  "Um..hi." Rosa's eyes darted from me to Maeva and back again. She looked up to see Maeva's painting, her face softening. "That's beautiful, Maeva."

  "Thank you. Jacob was a beautiful subject."

  Rosa finally regained her composure, a sly smile gracing her mouth. "Well, I'm sorry to interrupt your fun, kids, but dinner is served."

  "Sure thing, Rosa. We'll be down in a minute."

  Rosa left the room, winking at us before she closed the door behind her.

  I met Maeva's gaze for a split second before we burst out laughing.

  * * *

  In Your Ocean

  You are my moonlight

  The sparkle off the water

  You infiltrate my sight

  With your bright love light

  Chorus:

  I am floating uncontrollable

  In every wave that you churn

  But I just want to drown in your ocean

  To ease my soul's burn

  You are the sun's soft rays

  The warmth of my skin

  You filter into me

  To ignite the fire within

  Bridge:

  I have to touch, I have feel that

  You are here with me

  Forever to have, Together to be

  Eleven

  Pangasinan, Philippines—Owen Estate, 11:28 pm

  Maeva

  Blink. Bright summer sunshine warming the skin. No wind. No sound. Silence. Stillness. Look out over the water. Eerily unmoving ocean water. Black depths so frighteningly vast. Lone, rickety rowboat, floating. Man teetering to stand on the boat's deck. Shimmering golden hair, sparkling in the sunshine.

  "Jacob?" Louder, please. "Jacob!"

  Man turns. Sadness, longing, desperation so deep to match ocean black.

  "Maeva? I'm sorry. I…" Wobbling, back and forth, faster, shaking, toppling, tipping, falling, no splash, no ripple, only sinking…

  * * *

  I sat up abruptly, my chest heaving with shallow breaths, my heart pounding. Sensation began to return into my body, and I could feel soft covers of my bed, the sweat drenching my neck and lower back. I shuddered, trying desperately to shake off the ill feeling that washed over me.

  I needed him. I needed to feel his arms around me, and his lips on my skin. I needed to know that he was okay. Then I would be okay too.

  I pulled the covers aside and swung my legs over the edge of the bed. I sat there for a few moments, willing my breathing to calm just a little. Padding softly through the hallway, I opened Jacob's bedroom

  door.

  Jacob

  I heard my door creak open—the sound had become a beacon, something to guide me through the lonely night.

  She was there again at the foot of my bed. "Jacob? Are you awake?"

  "I was waiting for you."

  "Can I…" Her question faded into the stillness.

  "You don't have to ask. You've never asked before," I said. I pulled the sheet away from my body, moving over to create space for her.

  "That's why I'm asking now," she replied. She clambered onto the bed, immediately tucking herself next to me. I wrapped my arms around her and kissed her hair.

  "Jacob?" My name sounded so sweet, coming from her lips.

  "Yes, Maeva."

  I could sense her stiffening. I gently rubbed the soft skin along her small of her back, and she relaxed a little. "Are you happy that you came here?" she asked, quietly.

  "I am."

  "Are you finding what you need?" Her voice quavered a little.

  I squeezed her tightly. "I think so. Yes."

  "That's good."

  "Why are you asking?"

  "It's just…." she whispered.

  I tilted her chin up. She looked up at me, wide-eyed, like she was really, frightened. But what I saw behind the fear caused my breath to hitch.

  "You came here to heal, and I just want to make sure that you are healing. I want you to be happy."

  I leaned down to kiss her, touching my lips gently to hers. "Thank you." I wrapped my arms around her, holding her close. We were quiet for a long time, and I wondered what she was thinking.

  She squirmed from my grasp and turned to her side so she was facing me. She reached to place her hands on either side of my face. She kissed me, so thoroughly and tenderly it made my heart ache. Her hands wandered down over my bare chest, her fingertips dancing over my belly. I pulled her hips closer.

  I could feel the growing heat between her legs. I groaned against her mouth. She sat up and tugged her nightgown over her head, tossing it onto the floor. My boxers followed. I rolled on a condom.

  I held her for a while, just relishing in the silk of her skin. She lifted her leg up and rested it on my thigh. The length of my cock rubbed against the glossy, coarse hairs of her pussy. She grasped the hardness in her small hand and pushed it against the moist, heated folds. She teased me, moving my cock up and down the slick wetness. I closed my eyes at the sensation tightening at my groin, listening to her sigh as the head raked against her clit.

  I grabbed her wrist. I couldn't stand her teasing anymore. "Please, baby."

  The corners of her mouth turned up slightly, so seductively innocent. She shifted her hips upwards, and I took that as my cue. I grasped her hips and rocked into her. Maeva's breath caught in her throat, and she held it through the first sweet strokes. When her breath escaped, it came in a soft sighs and groans, the melody filling my head.

  It built up quickly, tightening in my stomach and down between my legs. My whole body was faint and tingling, and the only thing I could focus on was Maeva's soft sighing.

  I was on the teetering between control and release, completely caught up in her. "I think I'm in love with you," I breathed into her hair.

  "What?" she gasped, breathlessly. Her hips stopped moving. "What did you say?"

  "I love you," I said it again. It felt so good, so perfect to say it.

  She stared at me, her eyes glassy with fear, her breath coming in short pants, her mouth open in a small 'o'. I kissed her, engulfing her. She wrapped her arms around my neck and clung tightly. I thumped against her once more, and she shattered, pulsing all around me.

  Maeva

  My head, my body, were both buzzing. Jacob still held me encircled in his arms, and the security I felt from him held me steady. I was afraid to open my eyes, too overwhelmed
.

  I felt his lips touch softly on my forehead. I found the courage to look at him. His eyes were droopy, sleepy, but the warmth in them held me captivated, and I couldn't breathe.

  "Please stay tonight," he said, drowsily, his eyes falling shut.

  I kissed his forehead. He heaved a deep breath and relaxed, his arms still wound tightly around me. "I love you too."

  I don't know how long I watched him sleep.

  Pangasinan, Philippines—Owen Estate, 7:17 am