“Definitely not,” I say with a chuckle, remembering my mother’s face when I opened my grandad’s gift with the painting kit.
“What did you want to be? I can’t imagine you doing anything else but something creative.”
“Before I held a paintbrush, I never wanted anything. Painting was the first thing in my life that I really wanted. Before that…it was just the things I knew would happen or were expected.”
He comes over and starts unpacking the paint tubs onto the acrylic boxes on the shelf.
“How did you feel when that happened?”
“Scared and free. I didn’t think my parents would let me paint. In their minds, all artists are thespian lushes who don’t do any real work.”
“That’s quite judgmental,” he says. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.”
“No, you’re right. My parents were very judgmental. That is until they found the snobby side of the arts.”
“You said you also felt free.”
I smile. “How did you feel when you picked up a camera for the first time?”
“Scared I’d break it because it was a family heirloom and my parents didn’t know I was playing with it.” He laughs.
“And how about when you saw your first photos?”
“I was six, so I didn’t know how cameras worked. After Liv’s birthday, my mom took the film to be developed, and that’s when my photographic adventures were found. Days later, I came home from school to find these blurry photos of our lawn and the neighbor’s cat hanging on the wall by the front door.”
I sat on the floor cross-legged as I sorted through the paintbrushes and listened to his story.
“I thought my mom was going to be so mad that I’d taken the camera without permission, but she sat me down and told me those photos were perfect. That was how I captured the world, and it was important because, one day, I would look back on them and see the innocence of a six-year-old. As you get older, the pictures become clearer, but with life experience, they can also gain darker filters. There will never be a more innocent and pure view of the world than the one through a six-year-old child’s lens.”
“She explained all that to you?”
He smiled. “My mom is a very special person.”
Knowing Liv and Levi, I have no doubt of that.
“I bet you had a new camera for your next birthday. Am I right?”
He laughs. “You are. You are also annoyingly good at changing the focus of the conversation. But I have an annoyingly good memory, and you didn’t answer my question.”
I look at him, and his teasing smile gives me an idea.
“Are you free after this?” I ask.
He crawls over until he’s right in front of me, so close I can smell his woodsy cologne. I lean back on my hands as he leans forward.
“I might be,” he says, running his nose over the side of my neck. I lean my head back to give him better access, although I’m not sure what I’m hoping he’ll do. Kiss me there? Suck on my skin until there’s a mark? Where do I sign up for both?
My semi upgrades to a full-on erection when he straddles me and pushes me back onto the floor.
“I hope you were thorough with your cleaning earlier,” I say. My voice sounds alien to me. If there was a doubt about how much I want Levi, he’s heard it now.
“I’m always very thorough, especially when I intend to make the best of a situation.”
He licks a path from my collarbone to my ear. When he bites my earlobe, I can’t help bucking my hips to find some kind of relief for the ache I’m feeling for Levi.
“Oh yeah?”
“Uh-huh. So you were asking me to come over to your place…?” He continues his exploration of my super-heated skin with kisses all around my neck, over my Adam’s apple, and my jaw.
