This one is a little more difficult. At first glance, I want to say butterfly, but that seems too on the nose. A moth, maybe, but that doesn’t really fit either.
“A phoenix,” I blurt the instant the thought comes to me.
“Explain.”
“See here. The wings. See how waves look like flames across them?”
“You’re good at this,” he says after staring at the image for a few seconds.
“I don’t know if I’d go that far,” I disagree.
“You are. I stared at the first image for what felt like hours and saw nothing but a blob. You look at it for thirty seconds and it’s a night sky. This one looks like a hairy moth to me, but you look past the obvious and see a phoenix, which I never would have seen if you hadn’t pointed it out.”
“Guess it’s a good thing each image is subjective. You don’t have to see what I see. And it doesn’t have to be some greater meaning. Just look at the image. If you see a hairy moth, then say a hairy moth. There is no wrong answer.”
“Okay, let’s try another one.”
“Okay.” I retrieve another image, placing it face up on top of the others. “What do you see?”
He stares at the image, and while he does, I stare at him.I can’t help it. He’s too beautiful not to. I can still hate him and appreciate how good-looking he is, I justify to myself.
I watch as his gaze narrows, his forehead furrowing in concentration, and I watch as a strand of dark hair falls across his brow, making me desperate to reach across the table and push it back into place.
Everything about this man is complete perfection, much to my dismay. From his messy locks to his unique eyes to the thread of muscle clearly visible through his T-shirt, Macallan Stewart is truly a sight to behold.
“A tree.” The rasp of his deep voice pulls me from my perusal, and I blink, meeting his gaze, which is locked on me, a smile tipping the corner of his mouth like he knows exactly what I was doing.
“Explain,” I say, trying to seem at complete ease when in reality, I feel like I’m seconds away from clawing out of my own skin.
After the other day, and the things he said, I thought... Well, I don’t actually know what I thought... That he’d say something. Flirt with me at the very least. But other than a smirk or grin here and there, he’s acting weirdly normal. Which is saying something considering Mac and I have never been what one would classify as normal.
“See that way the slivers reach out, arching and twisting in various directions. It reminds me of the branches of an old oak tree. And then the base here.” He touches the page with his index finger.
“Very good,” I say in a way that I hope doesn’t come across as patronizing.
“You see it?”
“I can see why you see it.”
“What do you see then?”
“A coral reef,” I say the first thing that comesto mind.
“Really?” He arches a brow.
“Look here, at the jagged edges of the base and the way it spreads and arcs like a reef might.”
“And here I thought seeing a tree was good.”
“It is good. Again, all subjective. I see a tree also.” I reach across the table and point to a part of the image that looks a lot like a branch. “It’s not about right or wrong. It’s about whatyousee, not about what anyone else sees.”
“You’re just saying that to make me feel better.” He grins and I swear I can almost see the dimple hidden beneath his dark facial hair.
“No, I’m saying it because it’s true.” I start to pull my hand away, but he catches hold of it, wrapping his fingers around mine.
“Have dinner with me tonight.”
I try so hard not to react, but it’s impossible to know if I’m actually successful in that attempt.
