Beauty in the Ashes

Spotting the canvas beside his bed, I snatched it up. After all, it was me that he had painted, so I should get to keep it.

I scurried towards the door, and opened it as quietly as possible.

I scanned the hall and ran into my apartment, breathing a sigh of relief that no one had seen me. It would’ve been embarrassing if someone had spotted me leaving Caelan’s apartment. They, no doubt, would have believed I was doing the walk of shame. Which I wasn’t. So, why did I feel like I was?

Brutus brushed against my legs and I bent to scratch him behind the ears. “Sorry I didn’t come home,” I told the kitten—who had grown immeasurably since I’d moved here.

Placing the canvas on the counter, I set the coffee to brew.

While the scent of much needed caffeine filled the air, I jumped in the shower to rinse off, pulling my hair back in a sloppy bun on top of my head. I dressed in a pair of leggings and a loose flannel button down shirt. I wanted a comfy day, and luckily I didn’t have to go into work until nine tonight.

Pouring a cup of coffee, I stood by the window, staring out at the street below. It had always amazed me how life went on around you. All these other souls, completely unaware of the turmoil churning around them, the secrets kept hidden. Ignorance really was bliss.

I was jolted from my thoughts by someone banging on my door.

Honestly, no one in this building had any respect. It was early, and I could have still been sleeping.

“What?” I bit out, opening the door with more force than necessary.

The person pushed past me and inside.

Caelan.

I didn’t even have to look.

I knew.

I turned sharply. “What are you doing? You can’t just barge in here!”

He spun around, his eyes wild and his nostrils flared with barely contained anger. “I can when you steal my fucking property!” He reached for the canvas, then clutched it against his chest like a small child would hold a stuffed animal. “You had no right to take this.”

“I had every right! You painted a picture of me!”

“It doesn’t belong to you,” he muttered, “it’s mine. I’m keeping it. You can’t have it.”

I rolled my eyes, exasperated with his strange behavior. He was acting like a petulant child.

“Fine, whatever.

I don’t care,” I tucked falling strands of hair behind my ears. “Take it and get the fuck out.”

“You don’t like me,” he stated.

No, I didn’t like him. Not really, at least. He fascinated me, and that was an entirely separate thing from liking someone.

“You’ve given me no reason to like you,” I crossed my arms over my chest and raised my chin defiantly.

“That’s because I don’t want you to like me, Sutton.” He closed the few feet separating us. He was really good at that—getting in my personal space. His lips grazing my ear, he continued in a silky voice, “I want you to fear me. I want to watch your body shake with anticipation of what I might do.” And then my traitorous body shivered a moment before he brushed his fingers lightly over my cheek. “We’re not good for each other. I need you to stay away from me.” The next word he said shocked me, gluing me to the spot where I stood. “Please.”

???

“You look like hell,” Emery said the moment I stepped inside the coffee shop.

“Thank you Mr. Observant. Would you like a sticker for pointing out the obvious?” My tone was snarky.

He raised his hands in defense. “Crabby too, I see. Is it that time of the month? Are you going to go all she-beast and try to eat me? I promise I taste awful, like rotting corpses and Sour Patch kids, ‘cause those things are nasty.”

His words had the desired effect and I couldn’t help laughing. Emery always managed to make me feel better, even when I wanted to sucker punch him.