The brush in my hand was still frozen on the spot, unmoving.
I should have been drawn to the view behind her—the magnificent mountain, the beautiful hills and the unique village resting on them as well as the bright and never-ending blue sky. It was all like a paradise, just like Victor had told me.
But I was not. I was drawn to her. My breath caught in my throat. My gaze darted to her enchanting chocolate eyes. Her long and thick eyelashes. Her small and pink plump lips.
The steady rhythm of her chest heaving up and down as she breathed sucked the air out of my lungs—I didn't know how such a view could pain me. It was fulfilling, but it was so beautiful that it hurt too.
I still hadn't started painting.
Five minutes.
Ten minutes.
15 minutes passed. Still, I couldn't paint her.
Before I knew it, 30 minutes had passed, and I still hadn't painted anything. But strangely, I didn't feel the same restlessness that had haunted me half an hour ago.
The girl finally looked impatient. Irritation skated on her face, and she approached me. "Are you done?" she asked, unable to hide her annoyance—she must have been really tired from maintaining the same posture for that long.
When she noticed the blank canvas, she gasped. "Where's my painting?"
I scoffed, making her snap her head toward me. "Sorry. I'm not a professional artist. In fact, I don't even paint."
She stared at me in disbelief, still open-mouthed. It wasn't my fault, anyway. No one asked her to approach me.
"You just wasted my time." She gritted her teeth, snatching her money back. "Why didn't you tell me sooner? Do you think that it was okay to make fun of me like that?"
I smirked. "Come on, you were enjoying the beautiful view."
So was I.
She pursed her lips, still glaring at me.
"Come on. I'll make up for it," I said.
She looked at me with wonder, frowning.
"How about some lunch?"
She stared at me, dumbfounded. She might have thought I was crazy. I couldn't say that it was the best pick-up line.
No. I actually, genuinely, felt sorry for her, so I wanted to make it up to her.
"Lunch?" she asked me in disbelief. "No way. Why would I go eat with a mean stranger like you?"
I wanted to laugh. I stood up from the stool and extended my hand to introduce myself. "I'm Luke. I'm from New York. You're American too, aren't you?"
She looked at my hand but didn't shake it. She didn't bother to introduce herself in return.
I see. Being extra careful, wasn't she? It was ironic that she seemed to forget all about being careful last night.
"You know, there are some nice restaurants around here," I said. "Have you tried the nearby cafe that has salmon pasta, blackened trout and pork schnitzel?"
The way she swallowed made me wonder whether she was actually very hungry. She might be. Judging by the cheap place she was staying in, it didn't look like she could treat herself to some of the best meals in this town.
I got her.
"Come on," I said. "I'll treat you. You can choose any dishes you want."
