Chapter 10 Derek
Derek
Daniel looks shocked. Understandably so. I would be too, but I did say in my text we’d meet today.
As I watch him frown and try to put together how this happened, I kind of get second thoughts.
Fuck, should I have done this? But it kept bugging me and besides, how am I supposed to flush him out of my system if I have to keep hiding who I am.
Honestly, it’s terrifying, but I had to do it and I wanted to see his reaction—will he change his attitude now that he knows who I am or will he not?
It’s a gamble, as usual, because you can never know until it’s too late if someone likes you or just wants your money.
“Is it really you?” he asks, his voice dropping to a whisper.
His pretty face scrunches slightly, his eyes twinkle. He’s so damn expressive.
“It is.” I offer him my hand. “Derek Salinger. It’s good to meet you in person, and officially, Daniel.”
Awkwardly, he shakes my hand. His grip is firm if a little wary, which I don’t blame him for. He’s probably still processing.
“No way…”
I smirk and incline my head toward the restrooms. “Should I show you my dick as proof?”
He goes beet red. “No! That’s—There’s no need! I believe you!”
He’s shier in real life than he’s online, which makes me want to tease him all the more. To see his adorable reactions, to knock him off balance. But I’m also intrigued by his works, so I better satiate my curiosity now that I have the chance to do so.
“This one”—I point at the marina with the storm clouds and high contrast—“is this really how you saw it when you painted it?”
He studies the dark sky warring with the sun, the rich green of the grass and turquoise water, the white boats and the dull wooden pier.
“No. I… It got cloudy on the first day and rained on the second day, so I couldn’t go back to finish it.
I drew from memory and tweaked a few things to bump up the contrast.”
My blood thrums. “You used no references?”
Shaking his head, he averts his pretty eyes from me. “None after the initial block in of shapes and values. The rest I had to make up.”
“Why?” The question shoots out of me.
He blushes a little, but his attention returns to me, so I count it as a double win. “I wanted to challenge myself and… to make it look happier, I guess.”
Humming to myself, I try not to grin. This is so Daniel. “Where is that anyway?”
He glances at his work, a small sad smile gracing his pretty features. “It’s a small marina south of Takoma. I used to go there a lot as a kid…”
I sense there is more, but he trails off and doesn’t finish the sentence.
As much as I want to probe, I rein myself in.
Now is not the time—I don’t want to scare him off.
The atmosphere gets a bit awkward as a result of my silence, and so I decide to change the topic.
I might be an asshole, but I am not entirely insensitive.
“Are you working on anything right now?”
He watches me for a few moments before he nods. “As a matter of fact, I am.”
My heart suddenly beats faster. “Can I see it? In person, if that’s alright with you.”
Is this too much? His apprehensive gaze certainly suggests so.
“It’s not ready yet.”
Even better. I’m dying to see the process, the way the magic happens, not just the final heartstrings-tugging result. “I don’t mind at all.”
“The paint is not dry, and some of the details are still missing. I can’t bring it over.”
I chuckle lightly, his frantic excuses so damn cute. “No problem. I can come to your studio.”
He pales. “It’s not really a proper studio though. I paint at home.”
Is he saying that hoping to deter me? Or does he think I’m one of those snobs who only set foot in vintage studios with hardwood floors, decorative wallpaper, plants and sunlight streaming in through bay windows?
Tucking my hands in my pockets, I shrug. “I won’t come if it’s a problem for you.”
His eyes widen a bit and the frown eases. “No! It’s fine, you can come. Just… don’t expect anything fancy.”
His assertiveness tickles my insides. So he does want me to go, even if part of him seems to have second thoughts. My stomach squeezes. I want to eat him up, to strip him and bend him over and show him just how much he’s gotten under my skin.
It’s a first for me, and it’s exciting. This kind of thrill is new, this hunger to get to know him, to watch him paint, to let his paintings consume me.
“Sunday evening at seven then. Does that work for you?” I retrieve my phone and unlock it, smiling to myself when I realize I already have his number. I do update his name, though.
“Yes! Seven is fine!”
Our hands brush against each other as I put my device away, the contact electric.
A shiver runs down my arm, skittering across the rest of my body and bringing with it even more of that sweet and addictive hum I’ve been trying to ignore for the past few minutes.
Would he draw me if I asked? I’m dying to know how his eyes see me, the things that stand out, the things that he’s noticed.
How much of the real me will come through on the canvas and how much will stay hidden?
It’s exhilarating even just thinking about it. Being stripped, layer by layer, until there is nothing but the rotten core left.
“Great. I’m looking forward to Sunday.”
He opens his mouth, but then abruptly closes it, seeming to debate whether to say what he’s thinking or not. I intend to wait him out, but a text message pulls my attention, which breaks the moment.
“Yeah, me too. See you on Sunday, Mr. Salinger.”
I smirk. “Derek is fine.” I cock my eyebrow. “Please call me Derek, if it’s not too much trouble for you.”
A lovely tint of red caresses his cheeks. But he doesn’t rebut me, biting on his lip and flooding me crazy with want. “If you are sure…”
“I am.”
He nods. “Okay. I’ll see you later then, Derek.”
I will explode, truly. He’s turned my world on its axis, and I’m not even pretending that I want to fight my fall. I’m headed straight for the bottom, and the only thing left for me to do is hope that he will be there to catch me.