“Yes,” I answer, stepping back from her to allow her space.
She heads toward the back, and I follow her without being told. She pushes open a back door markedExit Only,leading us into a narrow back alleyway. The sharp sunlight cuts through the shadows as she takes a few steps away from the door before turning to face me. I stop and just stare down at her. The Vegas sun hits her eyes just right, turning them almost translucent. Hypnotic.
I clear my throat. “What did you want me to see?”
Placing her hands on both of my shoulders, she spins me around to face the back of the building. “What the…?” I trail off as my eyes take in various shades of blue, red, green, yellow, and purple.
I step up to it, drawn to the detail, and run my fingers over the brick. Blue forms a river, capped with tips of white that makeit look like it has rolling waves. To the right, jagged mountain peaks covered in dark clouds. To the left, tall buildings under a starry night, their windows shining from silver moonlight.
“Someone vandalized your building,” I say. “And it’s beautiful.”
“You think so?” she asks softly, still standing behind me.
I nod. “Absolutely.” I step back, standing beside her, and place my hands in my front pockets, just taking it in. “Fuck, it must have taken them forever to do it.”
Artwork spans the entire back of the building. There is no way this could be accomplished in one night. Well, that’s not true. It depends on how many people were working on it. But that’s not the case here. It doesn’t have the telltale signs that multiple artists worked on it.
Art is like handwriting—everyone’s strokes are unique. There is nothing in this picture that doesn’t flow seamlessly. No. One person did this. And it took them more than one night. They used paintbrushes, layering color and texture. Not like they threw some spray paint on it and ran.
“I can pick up some paint and cover it up,” I tell her.
“What?” she asks, turning to face me.
I do the same and look down at her. “I can cover it up.” I sigh. “Not going to lie. I’d hate to do it, but they shouldn’t have done this to your building.”
She tilts her head to the side, looking up at me. “If you could erase any of your tattoos, would you?”
I frown but answer without hesitation. “No.”
She shifts her focus to the back of the building and smiles. “Me neither.” She steps up to it and places her hands on the brick. “I did this.”
My eyes widen. “What?”
She turns to face me. “I painted this.”
My mind is a little slow at the moment, so I point at it. “You did this?” I ask stupidly.
She glances down at her black Converse and bites her bottom lip. All of a sudden, she’s nervous.
I step into her and place my hand under her chin, lifting it so she meets my gaze. The sun makes her piercing blue eyes shine. Then she lifts her hands and grazes her fingertips over my neck tattoo. I can’t help the shiver that runs through me at her softness.
“I like art too, Grave.” She speaks quietly, as though the world can’t know our secret.
My hand drops from her chin to wrap around her waist, and I pull her body flush with mine. She doesn’t fight me or push me away. “You’re amazing,” I say honestly. I’ve never met anyone like her before. She’s the exact opposite of me. Full of life. A breath of fresh air. Talented.
She gives me a soft smile. Her eyes drop to my lips, and I try to think of anything else but her hands on me because I don’t want to get hard and ruin the moment.
But when her hands cup my face, I lose the battle. Her eyes meet mine again, and she whispers, “Kiss me.”
I walk forward, forcing her to walk backward. Her back gently hits the building, and I bring my left hand up and cup the side of her face. She leans her head back, staring up at me with heavy eyes.
“Fuck, you’re beautiful,” I whisper.
“Grave…” My nickname shakes on her lips. Her hands come up to my chest and grip my T-shirt.
“April,” I whisper, and she whimpers.
Lowering my lips, I gently touch mine to hers. She parts her lips for me, and my tongue enters her mouth. She tastes like sugar. Addictive.
