Page 138 of Infatuated as They Come
“I know, I just like looking at you.”
“Only you,” I said. “I don’t even understand how you did all of that without a photo or anything. You can remember all of that from the top of your head?”
He hummed. “Easy.”
“What I was wearing? How my hair looked?”
“Yeah,” he said casually.
“I’m a little scared of how good your memory is.”
“It gets scarier…”
“How scary?”
“I remember,” he said, reaching up to push some strands of hair behind my ear, “the color of your dress when we first kissed, and exactly what your smile looked like when you told me you wanted to be mine, and how damn pretty you looked the first time you wore one of my shirts.”
His green eyes looked into mine, those memories swirling around in my mind in a fantastical loop, all warm and bright. “You remember all of that?”
“I do, and I won’t forget it. I don’t ever want to forget it, either.” Strong, long fingers circled at my hips through the material of my dress, his lips brushing against mine. “They’re gonna be doing an exhibition in about a month. Damien asked me if I was interested and I said yes. I kinda already have an idea for what I wanna do. Maybe a series of paintings or something…”
“That’s so exciting!” But then I frowned. “Wait, you’re not gonna use this one, right? The one of me?”
“You don’t want me to?”
“But it’s of me.”
“Yeah, most beautiful thing in the world. Makes sense I paint you, right?”
I blushed, pressing my face into his chest before staring up at him. “Everyone’s gonna see me.”
“I won’t use it if you really don’t want me to.”
“There are so many pretty things you could paint…”
“Why would I paint anything else but you?”
Cheeks still hot, I hummed lowly. “I don’t wanna ruin your project. It just feels weird knowing I’ll be on a wall for everyone to look at.”
His brows rose. “Trust me, I don’t like it either.”
“What happened to not showing anyone your paintings of me?”
“For this one time, I’ll make an exception. As long as you’re okay with it.”
Biting my lip, I gave him a nod. “I won’t get in the way of your creative process.”
He snorted. “There’s no process, just me makin’ stuff.”
“I think you’re still underestimating yourself as an artist. Don’t tell anyone else I said this,” I said, leaning in close to whisper in his ear, “but you’re the most talented artist here. And I’m not just saying that because you paint me and make me feel really beautiful whenever you do.”
“I’m glad I make you feel that way. So, will you come check it out when it’s all done? The other paintings, I mean. It’s gonna be a whole big thing. Damien’s put some flyers out the front if you wanna grab one. Everyoneelse is gonna make stuff too, and there’ll be gallery owners coming and…” He looked off into the distance for a second. “… Other people I don’t really wanna interact with, actually.Youkeep that a secret.”
“Of course I’ll come. I wouldn’t miss it for anything,” I said. “This is so exciting! It’ll be so much fun. I can wear a beret.”
He laughed, fingers brushing through my hair. “You’ll look real cute in one.”
“Everyone is gonna see your stuff and fall in love with you just like I did. But don’t forget that I was here first.”
