Bringing him here is the best way to share myself.
“This is incredible, Ara.” His voice is deeper than normal. And softer.
“That’s my ‘not quite good enough’ pile.”
He cocks his brow at me. Every time he’s made that expression, it’s earned me a spanking. Does me saying my art isn’t good enough mean I get in trouble?
“Why do you think these aren’t good enough?”
“Lots of reasons.” I saunter over. “They just don’t hit right yet. Sometimes I can figure out what’s missing and make it better, but a lot of times, I stare at them and imagine setting them on fire. It’s a love-hate thing.”
Glitch carefully flips through the various sized canvases. He stops at the second to last one. His breath catches. “Fuck, Ara.” He plucks it out and brings it up to the front of the pile and steps back to appreciate it better.
I instantly swell with pride. It doesn’t matter that I hate this particular painting. It doesn’t matter that I found a million flaws in my body with my self-portrait. In this pose, I’m naked, sitting on the floor with one hand stretched up, fingers curled, eyes darting to the side. I sat this way because it made me feel impish and goddess-like, which I loved. But my inner feelings didn’t translate as well as I’d intended.
Glitch swallows as he takes it all in. Heat rolls off him and slams into me. “I want this.”
Umm. “It’s not finished.”
“I can’t imagine what you think needs improvement. It’s fucking stunning, Ara.”
Nice of him to say, but I disagree. “It’s got a lot wrong with it.”
“No.” He pivots to face me, his gaze hot as fire. “It’s breathtaking. You’re… fuck, you’re perfect.”
I was also skinnier in this picture and now I’m starting to squirm. Did he notice the weight difference between this painting and what I looked like on my bed earlier?
“Who took this photo?”
His question throws me off. “I set up my tripod and snap pictures or take video, then I freeze the frame and work off it.” It’s something I’m still getting used to. “I keep trying to find ways to love my body.” Clearly, I failed.
“What’s not to love?”
I don’t even answer that. “I’m better with the images in my head.” I lure him over to another stack of canvases. “See?”
He cards through them gently. “Wow.”
My smile hurts, it’s so big. I swear the two of us have smiled more at each other tonight than I have, collectively, over the past five years.
“I bow down to your talent, Ara. I don’t have an artistic bone in my body.”
“I’m sure that’s not true.”
“Oh it is, I assure you.”
“Then who painted your shop?” Because now I know it wasn’t him.
“A senior from the high school did it about two years ago. It was for his portfolio.”
“And you let him use your shop?”
Glitch shrugs. “He needed it, I had it, and I admire what he did. I’ll never paint over it.”
I didn’t think I could possibly love him more, but there he goes proving me wrong. “You’re pretty amazing, you know that?”
He turns his dark green eyes on me. “So are you.”
Glitch makes me feel like I could fly. How the hell is it possible to feel this confident and solid with someone I barely know? “Can I…” Oh boy, here goes nothing. “Can I paint you?”
The look on his face is priceless. “Yeah. I’d love that.”
“Yay!” I start tugging on the hem of his shirt. “Take this off.”
“You want to paint me now?”
“When inspiration strikes,” I chirp, sashaying my hips, walking backwards to grab a blank canvas. “You gotta be ready to ride it.”
He laughs and pulls his shirt off. “I’m not sure if you’re talking about your muse or me.”
“Both.” I wink and snatch my graphite set.
Glitch rubs the back of his neck, looking around. “Where should I stand?”
“Get naked first.”
His eyes widen. “So we’re going nude.” Then he barks a laugh. “Okay. I’m game.”
I can tell he’s nervous, but he’s being an amazing sport about this. “Lean against the wall. One hand up behind your head, the other relaxed by your side.”
He kicks off his shoes and unbuckles his belt. In total silence, Glitch gives me everything I’m asking of him. I sit on the floor while he gets in the pose I want, and he looks awkward and adorable. Then he pretends to toss his hair back and says, “Draw me like one of your French girls.”