The five of us ate some breakfast together. I didn't think I was hungry, but as soon as the first bite went into my mouth, I discovered I was ravenous.
We ate in the living room, since they had a pool table where a dining room would go. Sawyer placed his hand on my lap, his fingers between my knees, and he casually moved his hand up, up, toward… where I was not wearing any panties.
He still hadn't put on a shirt, and the sight and smell of his skin was turning me on like crazy. I could barely finish my pancake, because I wanted him again. We'd had full-on sex twice since we'd met, and it had been fast as well as amazing, but now I wanted to take my time, the way you eat a really delicious dessert.
Finally, he turned to me and said, “Would you like to come upstairs and have a look at that art piece I was telling you about?”
“Oh, I guess,” I said coolly.
We dropped off our plates in the kitchen and I followed Sawyer's sexy ass up the stairs, getting more nervous with each step. He was so perfect, even his back was gorgeous. I started to get worried about him seeing my body and its imperfections.
An old worry surfaced, one I'd almost forgotten about in all the excitement. What if he could tell I'd never had a kid? There were no stretch marks on my stomach, and what if he'd been with a woman who'd had a baby before, and he could just tell by how it felt down there? Would I look up at him while we were being intimate and see his expression change, see distrust creep up on his face?
I got more and more worried about everything, and being in his room brought back the vivid memory of me freaking out. We stood at the foot of his bed, and he took my hands and kissed me, but even that didn't calm me down.
“What's wrong?” He shifted back, his dark eyebrows pulling together with concern.
I moved my shoulders forward in a gesture I hoped was cute. “Nervous.”
“Don't be. We'll get used to each other. I just need to see you more. What are you doing tomorrow?”
“I'm busy.” He was pushing me again, asking for more. The room was spinning, and my legs didn't feel so stable, so I stepped back and took a seat on the bed.
He said, “Are you blowing me off? Is this it for us? I see you once a week at most?”
“This is the second time I've seen you this week.”
“No, it's Sunday. This is a new week.”
“Sawyer, let's not fight.”
“We don't have to fight. Just say you want to see me. Say you'll do whatever it takes to see me more than twice a week. You barely live ten blocks from me, so it's not like distance is a factor.”
“Bell's having a tough time in school.”
“She's a kid! School's tough. Let me try to help. I can help with homework. What grade is she in?”
He let out an exasperated sigh and started pacing the room, looking like he might punch the wall.
“Sawyer, can't we just take this slow?” My voice was trembling. He was angry at me, and my heart was breaking.
He went to the long wall in the room, across from the window, and tugged at a blanket that was hanging across something on the wall. The blanket pulled down to reveal an enormous canvas that must have just barely fit in through the door. On the canvas was a black and white drawing, like one of the drawings in his sketch book, but grander and busier.
The scene was a pond, with lily pads and frogs, giant round leaves, cattails, and a girl. The girl floated on her back in the water with her arms stretched over her head in almost a ballet pose, but more natural.
She was nude, her br**sts round and relaxed as she bathed in the sun. Her dark, wavy hair fanned out in swirls, blending into the nature around her, never ending but becoming the pond itself.
My own eyes stared back at me.
Sawyer seemed calmer now, no longer pacing like he might punch the wall.
He held his hands up over the br**sts of the painting. “The restaurant has asked for some leaves to swirl up around here, to give her a modesty bikini. I swear, I didn't set out to draw her naked, but when I tried to do a G-rated version, she didn't speak to me.” His voice got really soft. “My beautiful muse wouldn't speak to me until I let her be free.”
I looked down and realized I was holding my arms crossed over my chest, as if I was the one exposed, and wasn't I?
Sawyer joined me sitting on the bed. “Say something. You're killing me, as usual. Tell me you hate it, and you don't really want me in your life. Just say it, so I can start getting over you.”
The tears that had been flowing earlier returned. I clenched my jaw to fight them, but Sawyer saw them in my eyes, and his expression scrunched up in worry.
“I'll prime the canvas,” he said. “I'll start from scratch, and I'll give the restaurant the kind of cheesy thing they want, a copy of a famous work of art. Not anything original. People don't want to have to feel things when they look at art, and this piece is too beautiful to be somewhere, unappreciated.”
He jumped up and darted to his closet, grabbing a plastic bottle and popping up the lid. He picked up a palm-sized brush from the top of his dresser and squeezed white paint onto it.
“No!” I got to my feet and flung myself between him and the canvas. “Don't you dare ruin your art.”
He looked like he was in pain. “I don't know what to do, Aubrey. I have no idea what I'm doing with my life. If someone tells me not to do something, that's the only thing I want to do. I start things and never finish them. Everything in my life is part-time. I'm a part-time artist, and I work at a restaurant part-time, and now I've got this beautiful girl in my life, and she only wants to see me part-time. What am I supposed to do? I've been waiting for a sign to tell me how to fully live my life, how to give myself completely to something greater than myself, and the only thing I can think about is you.”
The paintbrush was still dangerously close to the canvas, so I gripped his wrist with my hand to make sure he didn't ruin the painting. His muscles were tense, his skin hot, and compared to me he was impossibly strong.
We stood face to face, me with my back to the canvas, my body in front of the drawn body. Sawyer's eyes flashed at me, tinged with red and brighter green than ever. He looked like a dragon.
“Aubrey, how can I give myself to you? What do you need so you can know this is real? I'll move out of this house, I'll move somewhere better. I know your daughter comes first, and that's how it should be. I haven't even met her, and I already care about her so much, because she's a part of you. So, I've been thinking about the future. I could take a job with my father's company. Enough of this starving artist's lifestyle. It's not nearly as much fun as I thought it would be. My life is no fun at all without you in it.”