28. LIKE YOU NEVER LEFT
LIKE YOU NEVER LEFT
My hands shake violently as I stand outside the art studio, debating when I should go in.
I’m almost late, but I can’t shake the feeling that I could royally fuck this up.
I almost have my shit together when I remember this is our second first date—and it makes me freak the fuck out all over again.
What if he doesn’t like me? What if he spends time with me and decides this isn’t for him?
I wouldn’t know what to do. I desperately need him to stick around, but I can’t force it either.
I just don’t know how to make it happen.
I grab the door handle and pull it open, looking around quickly when I enter.
He’s not here yet—thank fuck for that. I pay for us and sit down to wait for him, my leg bouncing quickly as the minutes pass me by.
Is he even coming? What if he stands me up?
Fuck, that would ruin my entire life. I don’t think I’d be able to take that.
I shake my head to clear my thoughts, and when I look up, the young woman at the front desk gives me a sympathetic look.
“Five minutes until class starts,” she says softly, and I nod. “You might want to go in if you want the good seats.”
I shake my head. “I’m waiting for someone.”
“Okay,” she replies with a smile.
I wring my hands in my lap and look at them, praying he shows up.
I don’t even believe in a higher power, but right now, I’d pray to the fucking devil if it got me my fiancé back.
That thought scares me. What lengths would I go to in order to have him back in my life?
But I know the answer to that. There is no limit to what I would do.
Whatever it takes—that’s the only right answer.
The door opens, and I look up, breath escaping me when Kenneth walks in, cheeks flushed and hair a little disheveled.
He’s dressed casually in medium wash straight-leg jeans and a fitted blue T-shirt that matches his eyes almost perfectly.
It makes him look ethereal, the blue so much brighter somehow.
He runs a hand through his hair when his gaze lifts to mine, and he grimaces as he walks towards me.
“S-sorry.” He shakes his head, “I couldn’t find the place and—”
I smile at him softly. “It’s okay, Ken. You’re here now.”
He returns the smile and offers me his hand, squeezing tightly when I take it and get up from the chair.
The lady at the front desk points toward a set of double doors to our right, and Ken pulls me after him, tugging on my hand until we enter the room.
He cranes his neck, looking around until he finds us a table near the front of the classroom, and then he squeezes my hand once again and steers me in that direction.
There’s a look of wonder in his eyes as he takes a seat, and I plop down onto the chair next to him.
It’s a paint and wine night, and we have canvases in front of us, paint supplies arranged neatly on our table.
There’s a cup of water on each side of us, and he looks around, taking it all in, before he brings his eyes back to mine.
They’re wide, and there’s an undercurrent of excitement flowing through him.
When someone brings a bottle of white wine to our table and two wineglasses, he grins so big it threatens to stop my heart.
“You really know how to plan a first date, don’t you?” Ken smirks.
“Did I do a good job?” I ask with a raised eyebrow, fishing for praise. “Better than all your other ones?”
“I wouldn’t know.” He shrugs. “I’ve never been on a date before.”
My eyes widen, but then I tilt my head questioningly. “What about the guy from the bar?” I sound jealous. At least I feel like I do, but he doesn’t seem affected by it. Or at least not in a negative way. He definitely doesn’t look annoyed by my line of questioning.
“I wouldn’t call that a date.” He smirks.
I purse my lips at the jealousy clawing through my soul. “Oh?”
“I’d call that—never mind.”
“No, go ahead. Finish your sentence.” My body is tense, but when he puts his hand on my thigh and squeezes once, I relax slightly.
“That was the result of finding someone on Grindr.” I swallow hard and nod. “You have heard of that app, right?”
“Uh—” I nod. “I’ve used it in the past.”
Kenneth nods, “I don’t really do relationships if I’m being one-hundred percent honest with you. I’m not even sure why I agreed to go out with you—no offense.”
My hands shake slightly. “None taken.” But my voice sounds small.
“Hey, I’m glad I did.” His eyes turn soft, reminding me of how he used to look at me once upon a time. I miss his eyes like that, giving me something he didn’t give anyone else. “I can tell this is going to be a lot of fun.”
I want to tell him I hope it’s fun enough to give me another chance to take him out on a second date.
I want to beg him to let me be his boyfriend again.
Instead, I look toward the front of the room because the art teacher has started setting up her own canvas.
I picked this place because I knew what Kenneth would love, and by the look on his face when my gaze shifts to him again, I’ve accomplished what I set out to do.
The painting we’re recreating today is of a sunset at the beach.
It’s supposed to be for beginners, but I’m not going to lie, it looks way more advanced than I thought it would.
Kenneth doesn’t look the least bit intimidated, and I know it’s because he’s had art classes in the past and paints as a hobby.
I’ve never seen him in action, though, and I want to kick myself for not bringing him here before—back then.
Kenneth opens the wine bottle, which has a screw top, and pours us both a glass.
I take mine and clink it against his when he lifts it toward me.
He looks into my eyes as he takes a small sip, then smiles widely when he sets it down on the table, dimples on full display.
I have to look away so I don’t look like a love-struck fool, but that’s exactly how I feel.
Still head over fucking heels for this man.
I don’t think that’s ever going to change.
He’s in my bone marrow. In my heart. In my veins.
I can’t get rid of him without something vital going with him. And I don’t want to try.
Our eyes shift to the front of the room so we can pay attention to what the teacher is saying, and then someone comes over with paint palettes ready for us to start.
I look over at Kenneth, who looks like a kid in a candy shop, and smile.
He’s focused on his task, mixing colors and beginning to stroke the brush across the canvas in fluid movements.
The scene is already sketched for us, so all we have to do is fill it in with paint.
I’m too focused on him to even get started, and when he turns toward me, he frowns.
“Are you going to paint?” he asks, and I smile.
“I was having fun just looking at you if I’m being honest,” I reply, and he flushes a pretty shade of bubblegum pink. “And you’re going to laugh at me…”
Kenneth raises an eyebrow. “Why would I laugh?”
“I’ve never painted before.” I shrug, embarrassed.
“Really?” He looks surprised, eyes wide but twinkling. “So I’m your first?” The way he says it with his little smirk sends a shiver down my spine, reminding me of something else I gave to him first.
“I guess you are,” I tell him softly, chuckling.
“Oh, I like that way more than I should.” He grins, then leans over and grabs the paint palette on my side of the table. He takes my brush out of the water and taps it inside the cup a few times, then holds it out to me. “I’ll teach you.”
I smile tentatively, then take the paintbrush, our fingers meeting in a small touch that sends a bolt of lightning up my arm.
He’s so warm, and the small contact is threatening to send me over the edge.
How am I supposed to be so close to him, yet so far away?
How do I sit through the next few hours without touching him at all?
How do I come to terms with the fact that he’s not mine anymore?
Then Kenneth does something completely unexpected, wrapping his fingers over mine and directing them to the paint.
He mixes green and blue together, then strokes the brush over the canvas to paint the water.
The color is striking, beautiful, almost matching the way his eyes look with the shirt he’s wearing.
It makes my stomach do a little flip, and I’m suddenly feeling breathless.
I try to hold my breath for a moment, then take a deep inhale, but it doesn’t stop my hand from shaking in his.
He looks at me, surprised, but then goes back to his task—directing my hand over the canvas until I’ve gotten the hang of it.
“Now you try it,” he says softly, letting go of me.
I miss the heat of his body immediately, but I try to smile and turn back to the painting instead of him.
I tentatively stroke the paintbrush over the canvas, recreating the movements he taught me, and before long, I see something come to life right before my eyes.
When I look at him with wide eyes, he smiles. “You’re doing great, sweetheart.”
My abdomen tightens at the nickname, giving me a physical reaction I didn’t realize was still possible over something so simple.
I force myself to smile instead of faint, like my body wants to, and then he picks up his brush and starts painting his own sunset at the beach.
It’s hard to focus on mine when I want to watch him instead, but when he gives me little encouraging smiles and tips his chin at my painting, stopping to stare, I give in and get back to work.
We both spend time painting, but before long, I grow exasperated. I want to ask him about himself, but I’m afraid of having the same conversations we used to. What if fate repeats itself? What if—
“So, Conrad…” Kenneth stops painting to look at me briefly. My brows rise as I wait for him to talk. “Did you play any sports growing up?”