Page 28

SUNNY

Even though Alex gave me the scaffolding, I’m starting the painting at the bottom. It’s unconventional, but I want to work my way up. The outline is done, so now I'm adding color. The girl in the painting is surrounded by tropical elements that will need layer after layer, and what might take an actual professional a few days or weeks will take me months.

The pool house is hot today. It’s hot every day with that sun blazing through those big windows, but today seems unbearable. Every hour or so, I walk out back and jump in the pool to cool off, but I dry off too fast and it leaves my skin feeling dry, which makes me irritable.

“You’re not getting paint in my pool, I hope,” he says as he walks out with a towel to wrap around me as I pad toward the door, soaking wet.

Alexander has been keeping himself guarded since I started coming over to work. He still watches me paint, sometimes working on the window seat or other small projects, and he always makes me eat at his place. I’m here every night, and I can see in his eyes that he’s fighting the urge to leave. Sometimes I wish he would. Go live his life. But then I hate the idea of this space without him. Him out in a club with a girl he barely knows doing God knows what.

I haven’t seen the blonde woman since the last time either.

For the last five days, it’s only been Alex and me. Cadence barely talks to me, and my mom hardly notices when I’m gone.

The towel he wraps around me is so big it reaches my knees, and it’s the softest towel I’ve ever been wrapped in. The sun is starting to set, and I know this part of the day is when he’ll ask me what I want for dinner.

With the towel around my hips, I climb onto the scaffolding on the lowest setting and open the paint tray, so I can finish the section I'm working on. The stinging scent of chemicals in the paint brings that comfort I love. It smells like home. And I don’t mean my house. Home like that feeling of comfort. Home like freedom.

The scaffolding shakes as he squeezes in, having to duck his head to keep from hitting the top rung. I can smell the sweet bourbon on his breath. He stretches one long leg behind me and folds the other in front of him so that he’s facing me. He’s sitting so close. Alex loses sense of boundaries when he’s drinking. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t love it.

My feelings for Alex are constantly changing. At first, I tested his limits, fished for attention, and tried anything I could to get a rise out of him.

Now, I see him differently. He’s pushed me away so much that I’ve given up the fight, and it’s only been recently that I can admit that I’m intrigued by the idea of something more than attraction.

I find myself daydreaming about what a life with Alexander Caldwell would be like. Out in public. On the couch every night. Waking up next to him in the mornings. I’ve never been drawn to older men, and Alexander is miles out of my league, but the friendly connection between us has me wishing for more.

His piercing stare is on my face while I paint, something instrumental playing softly through the speakers.

“How long is this going to take?” he asks, glancing at the mural.

“Ready to get rid of me already?”

I smirk without taking my eyes off the wall. I have to keep blending before it can dry too much. The muscles in my right arm are already starting to tense and burn, but I have to get it done or it won’t be perfect.

“I’ll just find another wall for you to paint,” he says, nudging me with the leg stretched behind me.

He doesn’t mean to be flirty. I know that. Alexander has drawn a very bold line in the sand when it comes to me. He wants nothing to do with me sexually or romantically. I’m like his ward or something—and he’s distracted himself from his shitty, lonely life by making the center of his focus taking care of me.

It’s cute, I guess.

But I still wish he’d get me naked and do unholy things to me.

“Except when you go back to art school,” he mumbles over his drink.

“I’m not going anywhere.” A sad truth that burns when I think about it.

“Why not? Why aren’t you going back, Sunny?” He pushes me because he knows I’ll answer him now. No more of my silent treatment and avoidance. But still…sometimes I think he pushes me too much.

“I just…don’t want to.” My hand tenses with the brush between my fingers. The feeling of inadequacy returns, making my breathing shallow and my heart race.

“You know…once you finish this, I can get my PR friend to get you set up on social media. You won’t need art school. Celebrities will be hiring you left and right.” He leans his head on the side of the scaffolding, watching my face as I keep my gaze away from his. Working for Alexander is different. There is a sense of freedom here, but with someone else…the pressure terrifies me.

“Say something, rain cloud,” he mumbles, nudging my back.

I shrug, shoving his leg away. “You’re going to make me mess up.”

“Then tell me you’ll let me help you.”

Again, he presses into my back with his foot, and I shove him away. “I’m here to work, not play with you,” I growl at him, trying to look as stern as possible.