Chapter 6
EMMA
All afternoon I kept going over my assignment, trying to think of ways to portray me. There had to be something I could do that didn’t involve asking anyone for help.
Considering the aim of the project was for the professor to see me, getting help felt a bit like cheating. So, I was determined to figure this out on my own. And what did my hours of brainstorming come up with? Flowers.
“Ugh,” I tore the sketch out of my notebook, crumpled up the paper and tossed it on the floor.
Drawing a flower should not be this hard. The first pile of paper balls on the ground was because the style wasn’t right. I found myself continuously going back to Cubism, (the professors favorite style), instead of finding the one I liked—which I was unsure on.
After that I decided that a better place to start would be with my favorite flower. That was where the second pile came in. Crumpled up pages of daisies, irises, daffodils, orchids, and roses, all of which someone I knew liked, but didn’t know if I did. And don’t even get me started on colors.
Purple, blue, pink, green, I kept switching.
How was I supposed to show someone me if I didn’t even know what my favorite color was?
I was going to fail, which would affect my GPA, making me lose my partial scholarship and spend the rest of my life serving coffee between cam shows to make ends meet.
Proving every single person in my life right who said I’d never amount to anything.
I flopped my head down on my notepad and grumbled, “Stupid flowers.”
“I’ve never heard a girl complain about flowers before.”
Of course Vahn would pick this moment to walk in the door. Why did the universe hate me?
Lifting my head up, I rolled my eyes over to Vahn as he dropped his bag on the chair by the door. “Don’t you have study group?”
“It was moved to next week.”
That didn’t sound right. In all the years I’d known Vahn, not once had his study group been moved. They met on the fifteenth of every month. Rain, wind, sunshine, weekday or weekend, it didn’t matter. It was always the fifteenth.
“It was moved?”
“Yeah, it got moved,” he snapped back at me. “What’s the problem. People get sick, shit happens not everyone lives on a perfect schedule.”
That was a tad defensive. “Geez, I was just asking.”
“Sorry,” Vahn sighed and scrubbed a hand down his face. “It’s been a rough day.”
Vahn Kessler apologized? Wow, it really must’ve been a rough day. “Anything I can help with?”
“No.” He shook his head. “It’s just graduating year bullshit.”
He didn’t sound too sure about that, but I could just be reading too much into it.
Final year at college was stressful. And while Vahn didn’t take many things seriously, he did take school seriously.
He was a cinematic arts major, and never missed a class.
His dedication to his education was the only thing I admired about him. Well, almost the only thing.
When Vahn dropped down on the couch and ran his fingers through his hair, I couldn’t stop my eyes from roaming over the tribal lines crawling up his bicep. They almost looked like feathers on a wing.
Was there a purpose behind it? It was a large tattoo spanning from his waist to his shoulder. That was what I stared at last night to avoid looking further down. At parts I had no business seeing.
“When is this fucking day going to end.” Vahn grumbled, flopped back on the couch, and closed his eyes.
Despite his obvious frustration, my mind was still on the lines inked in his skin. Something that size would’ve taken hours to get done. I couldn’t see him picking it just because. If I could figure out why Vahn chose that tattoo, then maybe I could figure out what my favorite flower was.
“Why did you get that?” I hadn’t intended on asking him anything, the words just came out.
“Get what?”
It was too late to go back now. Besides, what was the worst thing he could say? Fuck off? Stop looking at me? I’d heard it all before. That would leave me exactly where I was. So, I really had nothing to lose.
“The tattoo.” I explained. “Why did you get it?”
His shoulders lifted in a dismissive shrug. “Why does anyone get a tattoo.”
Okay, that was a fair answer. People got tattoos for all kinds of reasons. I had the worst rose ever drawn on my ankle because my friend when I was sixteen wanted to try tattooing, and I didn’t want to let her down.
“But why did you get that one in particular?” I clarified.
Vahn’s navy eyes popped open as he lifted his head off the couch. “Why are you so interested in my tattoo?”
“I’m not interested.” I said snuggling back into the recliner. “I was curious. Don’t answer if you don’t want to. I don’t care.”
I’ll just go back to hopelessly figuring out flowers.
After a few minutes of silence Vahn answered, “It was my mom’s design.”
His mom’s?
My eyes snapped back to his. “You mom does tattoos?”
“Yeah, she has a parlor back in Florida.”
Ashen Springs, Florida was where Vahn was from, and that was about all I knew about him. He never talked about his past or his family. I wasn’t sure if he had one. At first I found it odd, but didn’t question it.
If anybody understood not wanting to relive painful family memories, it was me. But now that he opened the door, I had so many questions.
“What does your dad do?”
He rolled his eyes. “I don’t want to talk about my father.”
Okay, his father was a sore subject. I could work with that. “What’s your mom like?”
“What do you think this is, a first date?” He snarled.
That was clearly not the right thing to say. He went from slightly annoyed to pissed off.
“It was just a question.” I rolled my eyes at the crease in his brow, and went back to my horrible drawing.
Awkward silence didn’t even begin to explain the feeling in the room. I could feel Vahn staring at me while I tried to focus on my pencil strokes. That was not an easy task when one was being inspected by Vahn Kessler.
I found myself doing anxious things, like shifting in my chair, and tapping my pencil on my notebook. And at one point when my eyes rolled up for a second, I could’ve sworn I saw him smirking.
My reaction was stupid. I spent three days a week exposing myself to various men online, yet this made me skittish? It wasn’t like Vahn was a stranger, I’d known him for years. And this was my home.
It wasn’t big and fancy, but it was warm and mine. I should be comfortable here. For Christ sake, I’m the one that found that couch he was sitting on. I had to talk them into bringing it home. But Vahn had a knack for making me feel like this. I should be used to it by now.
“Do you want to see it?”
His deep voice vibrated through the tension building around me, making me want to jump from my chair.
Thankfully I managed to keep my composure despite the thumping in my chest, and calmly said, “See what?”
I would die before letting him know how he could affect me with one look.
“My tattoo.”
Oh. “I saw it.” Or did he forget about barging in on me?
“No, you saw my dick.”
That was an image I’d never get out of my brain. “You’re such an asshole.”
“You’re the one that asked about my tattoo.”
Before I could rebuff or say anything, Vahn stood up, reached over his shoulder, and tore his shirt over his head, baring his chest.
As he twisted his torso, I realized the black lines didn’t just climb his side, they were on his back as well. From this angle I could see the whole thing. It wasn’t just some tribal art, when they were viewed all together they made a bird.
Most of the head and body were on the back, with the wings going over his side and up his shoulder. It was an intricate design that was absolutely breathtaking when seen in full.
I stopped myself from reaching out to trace the edge of a feather. “Is that a raven?”
“Yeah.” Vahn breathed while I continued my inspection.
“Why a raven?” The only thing I could equate to that was Edgar Allen Poe, and as far as I knew, Vahn wasn’t a fan. “Does it mean something.”
“Not anything you would understand.”
I could’ve sworn he shuddered when he said that.
I lifted my eyes up to his. “I might understand.”
And what was more, for some reason I wanted to.
There had always been something in Vahn’s eyes that called to me.
A loneliness or longing that he hid behind a cocky smirk.
Most of the time he was being an ass, so I didn’t notice it.
But at times like this, when no one else was around, I could see it staring back at me.
“No you wouldn’t.” He glared down at me. “And if I told you, you’d hate me more than you already do.”
“I don’t hate you Vahn.”
“You should.”
“Why?”
I’d never forget the look in his eyes when he said, “Because I’ll break you.”
He looked like a completely different person. Someone my instinct was telling me to run away from. A dark, devious being who wanted to devour me. And I couldn’t help but wonder if this was the real Vahn Kessler?
Before I had too much time to think about it, I dropped my gaze. That’s when the universe decided to slap me again. Just as my eyes fell down, Vahn shifted, causing a large bulge in his jeans to be in my line of sight. Guess where my eyes froze.
That’s right. There I was, sitting in a chair with a notebook in my lap, one hand on his suddenly very warm skin while I stared at his junk. And I couldn’t look away.
I stayed like that while my mind screamed at me to turn away. Flashbacks of the bathroom played through my head, while I felt the intimidating stare from that thing through the denim of his pants.
“My tattoo isn’t down there Parakeet.” Vahn chuckled.
It took everything I had to stop mortification from warming my cheeks, and even then, some of my embarrassment managed to seep through in the way I chewed on my lip.
“Don’t do that.”
There was something different in his voice. A timber that made me shiver, but not because I was cold. If anything I felt hot. I didn’t like it. Out of all the awkward and uncomfortable moments I’d had with Vahn, this was the worst. Oh, and he was probably amused as all hell. Bastard.
Angry, I was finally able to tear my eyes off him. “Go away. I have to draw a stupid flower.”
Focusing on my impossible task was better than dealing with him.
Unfortunately, Vahn didn’t leave. He stayed where he was, hovering over me and looked down at my notebook. “Why are you drawing a sunflower? You hate those.”
“What?” I looked up at him. “I don’t hate sunflowers.”
His brow arched. “Then why did you replace the kitchen curtains?”
“Well, because they were… I mean…” Why did I replace them? They weren’t frayed or anything. There was nothing wrong with them, other than… the sunflowers.
“Son of a bitch.” I tore the page out and tossed it on the pile of other failures. “I guess I don’t like sunflowers either.”
“What do you mean either?” Vahn asked making me want to glue my mouth shut. “Don’t you know what kind of flowers you like?”
“Oh, and I suppose you do.” I snapped at him.
Who was he to talk? The guy refused to talk about anything. He probably didn’t know what kind of flowers he liked either.
“I do actually.”
I rolled my eyes. “Sure”
The almighty Vahn Kessler knew everything.
“You like tulips.” He said.
I snorted, “and how are you so sure?”
“Well, there are at least five different pictures of them hanging around here, you get them painted on your nails every spring, the pillows you bought for the couch have tulips, and you have three different colors of fake ones in your room. And you spend extra time at the grocery store during easter when they’re in season. ”
Huh? I kind of hated him a little more now.
“How do you not know this?”
“What.” I snarled up at him. “It’s not like you know everything.”
He held out his hand and popped out fingers while he ticked things off.
“Your favorite color is pink, you like your eggs sunny side up, no pulp in your orange juice, you hate Wednesdays for some unknown reason, you hate wearing necklaces but you love anklets, and pineapple on pizza is a crime in your eyes.”
I genuinely didn’t know what to say. I just sat there with my mouth hung open.
Everything he said checked out. I had more pink than any other color, I detested pineapple on pizza and necklaces made me feel like I was choking. How did he know me better than I knew myself?
Vahn grabbed his shirt off the couch and shook his head, “And you wonder why you can’t come.”
I might just strangle him with that shirt.