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“I can never sleep that great in a strange bed.”
“Not even in this stupidly fancy house?”
She laughs again, watching me. “Even in this house, yeah. Ever since I was a little kid.”
“I’m guessing you didn’t go to sleepovers that often.”
“Nope, always had some excuse.”
“Me neither.”
“Really? Why?”
I look out at the water and the sun as it slowly rises. “My family moved a lot when I was younger for my dad’s work,” I say. “He was a computer contractor or something like that. But anyway, I never made many friends.”
“Oh,” she says. “That’s really hard.”
“Yeah, it was. I went to six different high schools.”
“Wow, six?”
“And eight elementary schools. He slowed down as I got older.”
She shakes her head. “That’s horrible.”
“I know. We never even unpacked most places, never bothered. He’d do his job, and then it was on to the next town, the next job. He made good money and took care of us, but it was hard.”
“Did your parents like moving?”
I shake my head. “I don’t know, honestly. I think so, at least, otherwise why would they do it?”
“Have you asked them?”
“They both passed,” I say softly. “Mom first, dad later.”
“I’m so sorry.”
“It’s okay. Maybe it’s why I paint, you know? Always trying to create a stable place to exist. I can do that in a painting, it can be as stable as I want it to be, it can be home.”
“That’s a really pretty idea,” she says, leaning closer to me, head cocked to the side.
I turn to look at her and we lock eyes. I’m surprised by her irises, both green and brown at the same time. Not exactly hazel, but like they’re swirled together. Without thinking, I reach out and run my fingers through her hair, but she doesn’t shy away.
In fact, she leans toward me. Without thinking, I press my lips up against hers, and before I know it, we’re kissing.
I don’t know what I’m doing. This is stupid, but I can’t help myself. Henry would kill me, and he’s the last person in this world that I want to hurt. He’s a good guy, works hard, takes care of his friends. Hell, he’s done so much for me personally, I can’t imagine doing anything to hurt him.
And yet here I am, kissing the one girl that’s totally off limits. Maybe I’m fucked up or an asshole, but I can’t help myself.
She tastes good, feels good. I’ve kissed a lot of girls in my life, but there’s something special about this. I just can’t put my finger on it. It’s like all of her paint’s perfect and pure, never mixed together, bright and vibrant. I can feel it on my lips, on my tongue, and I don’t want this moment to stop. It’s the first time I’ve felt good since coming to this house, hell, maybe in a long time.
But I have to break it off. I can’t risk letting anyone catch us. She smiles at me, blushing a little bit. “That was unexpected,” she says.
“Was it?” I ask. “I don’t think it was.”
“I mean, I just—“
“It’s okay,” I say, interrupting. “You don’t have to pretend you’re not interested.”
