Burn with me Page 5

  “Your paintings are worth more. Don’t under sell yourself, son. You have some serious talent there.”

  I try to smile, but I’m pretty sure it’s not showing.

  “Thank you.” I hold out my hand to shake his before turning and making my way out of his office. I close the door behind me, keeping my head down and my hands wrapped tightly onto the check.

  That went well, I thought to myself, cringing a little as I think back to my reaction of him touching me. I can’t bear to be touched, past events a constant reminder. I walk as fast as my legs allow, making my way over to the elevator. The doors open immediately and I step in before another forced encounter with the receptionist. I tap my hand against my leg nervously, waiting to reach the ground floor. The elevator doors open and I head out as fast as I can.

  I hear the desperate sound of the blonde shouting, “Bye,” as I head out, never raising my head to acknowledge her. My legs power forward, making my way back to the parking lot where I left my car. I suddenly slow a little, realizing that I have to pass the dance studio where, not long ago, I saw the girl from the apartment next to my own. As I approach, I slow my steps, hoping and praying I will get to see her in all her glory. She seemed so at ease, using her limbs to tell a thousand stories. The side door is still open, but there’s no music playing. I get closer to the opening and crane my neck a little to get a look inside the studio.

  “Caleb,” a voice I’m not familiar with calls me. I swing my head, looking for the source of the noise and notice her standing at the end of the walk way. I swallow down hard as my eyes burn over her entire body, practically all of it on show. I look up, noticing her waving and walking closer to me. I turn and look behind me, wondering whether I should run in the opposite direction. I want to move. Run away from the beauty coming toward me. I glance down to my fucking feet glued to the floor, like I have no choice but to talk to her, to face her. I lift my head, locking eyes with hers. She stops a few feet in front of me. I blink, shivering as I take in her beauty. Her heart stopping, jaw dropping natural exquisiteness. I narrow my brows, confused at her knowing my name.

  “How do you know my name?” I ask, my voice quivering as I try to steady myself. It isn’t working. I drop my head a little, pushing my hands into my pockets.

  “Well, the girl I started working with told me your name. Apparently you’re friends with someone she knows.”

  “I don’t have any friends,” I state.

  She scrunches her face, her nose wrinkling a little. “I saw you with the guy. You were running with him.”

  “Is there something you want?” I ask, a little blunter than I had anticipated, but I’m desperate to get away. I feel the heat rush through me as my level of anxiety reaches a new high.

  “Well,” she sighs loudly, “I’m just trying to introduce myself, and maybe get to the bottom of why you wouldn’t talk to me. It’s good to know you’re not a mute.” She laughs nervously, her eyes lightening a little as she twirls a stray piece of hair around her index finger.

  My lip pulls at the edges as I fight back a little amusement. Not at what she said, but at her. Her body language, her laughter – it’s infectious and it gives me an unknown and unfamiliar feeling. I swallow, dread hitting me like a sledge hammer. But the problem I’m having is dealing with these feelings. They’re so foreign, so unknown. I have no idea how to react.

  “I have to go,” I mumble, dropping my head, breaking the connection between us.

  “Wwwhat?” she stutters. “What’s wrong?”

  I shake my head from side to side, never once raising it to meet hers. This was a bad idea. I can’t do this. Taking a few steps toward her, I side step my way past. She reaches out, grabbing hold of my shirt. I stop in my tracks, slowly turn, and lift my head, glaring at her hand clutching onto the fabric of my shirt.

  “Don’t,” I warn. My eyes darken and my glare intensifies. She shudders, her grip loosening as she slowly steps back away from me.

  “That’s right,” I grate out. “I’m the monster she told you about. You need to stay away from me.” Her mouth drops open a little and her arms cross her chest as she curls her body together. I can‘t stay a moment longer. I turn and charge down the alley way, racing to my car. I don’t know what comes over me, but my adrenaline spikes as I race to get to my safe place. My heart hammers in my chest. I feel it in my throat, the reverberation of my own heart beating as I unlock the door and throw myself in the seat of the car. I grip my hands against the heat of the steering wheel, my forehead dropping against it as I let out a huge, shaky breath.

  Fuck.

  What does she want from me? I can’t get the image of her out of my head, the look of her scared face. Maybe my outburst will deter her from making the same mistake again. I can’t believe I let this happen. That I’d been careless enough to be in this situation. I raise my head, resting back against the seat of the car. I glance to the time, remembering the two other paintings I need to drop. I push the car into gear and make my way to the next delivery location.

  Just under an hour later and I’m making my way back to my apartment. After today’s events, I decide to delay the rest of my errands and get back to the apartment. I pull up outside and notice her car is parked in its new favorite spot. I quickly scan the area, checking that the coast is clear before getting out and heading straight into the apartment building. I race up to my floor, dig into my pocket for the key, unlock the door, and head straight in. I drop the checks I received today on the counter before getting myself a cold drink from the fridge. I stare into the nearly empty refrigerator; a loud sigh escaping me as I realize the damn thing is practically empty. I slam it shut. Another task to add to the list of errands I really should have done today. I grasp the last cold can in my hand, sliding onto the small sofa and resting my feet onto the coffee table. I open the can, allowing the cold drink to coat my hot, dry throat. I gulp it down fast, my eyes closing in the contentment the drink provides. The second the liquid is gone, I push the empty can on the table, sinking further back into the seat. My eyes close almost involuntarily. I can’t stop my mind from wandering to a place I’d rather it not be. The memories are on overload and I shake, pushing my fingers against my closed lids. The thoughts haunt me, consume my mind until I’m lost in total darkness. I jump up to my feet and start pacing the room. I need to clear my thoughts. I need to take my mind off of the evil that flashes within. I walk to the corner, grab my large sketch pad, and search my desk for the right pencil. I grab what I need and sit on the floor by the window. Crossing my legs, I rest the pad on them. Tugging a little at the drapes, they open just enough to allow the right light to flood the room. Moving the pencil back and forth across the stark white paper, it seems as though the pencil is alive and drawing of its own accord. I start to sketch the outside of her face, pouring each ounce of emotion I have into this picture. I’m not sure I can ever explain how this release works for me, it just does. It’s the only outlet I have beyond screaming and shouting. I continue to work the shading on the picture, not sure where it’s going, but allowing my emotion to take over my brain. My hands work in collaboration with my mood.

  An hour or two passes by quick. I didn’t even realize the time. Holding the sketch away from my knee, I try to appreciate the piece I just created. I stare at it for a moment, trying to swallow down the fucking lump in my throat. Letting out a huff of laughter, I drop the sketchbook on the floor. How can something so beautiful come from such pain? I stand up, stretching out my contracted limbs before making my way over to the bathroom. No sooner am I standing at the toilet that I hear a loud bang at my door. I finish in my own time, washing and drying my hands before checking who’s here. I narrow my eye, looking through the peep hole. Josh stands there, a shit eating grin on his face, holding up two large grocery bags.

  “Come on, man,” he yells. “I know you’re in there.”

  I reach for the key, turning and unlocking the door. He barges in, his pissed stare directly at me.
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  “What took you so long?” he shouts over his shoulder, dumping the bags on the counter. “You owe me thirty bucks for this, bro.” He turns back to me, waiting for a response.

  “You didn’t have to,” I mumble. I walk toward him as he empties the groceries from the bags.

  “Oh I didn’t, huh?” he asks, his eyes flitting over to the empty fridge. “I’d say I came around just at the right time.”

  I narrow my eyes at him, confusion swimming through my head. I couldn’t understand why the guy kept coming around, why he felt the need to be here. After all, I gave nothing back.

  “Why are you here, Josh?” I ask, my voice monotone as I stare at him.

  “Well ain’t that fucking nice!” He chortles. “I know you love me being here.”

  “Really,” I say drearily. “Why aren’t you working?”

  His booming laughter fills the room as he continues emptying the food. I help him put the groceries in the fridge. “I have some down time. You know the whole freelance designer thing means I work when I want.”

  He pauses for a second, turning to me. “So what did I interrupt, bro? You took your time letting me in.”

  “Nothing. I was in the bathroom, that’s all.”

  “Glad to see you letting some light in for a change.” He nods toward the slightly opened drapes, before his eyes glance downward, noticing the sketch I’d left on the floor. His eyes widen, and the smirk he’s wearing stretches from ear to ear.

  “Well I’ll be fucking damned.” He walks out of the small kitchen toward the sketch.

  I let out a sigh, shaking my head as he looks at the picture. “Put it down, doofus.”

  “It’s that hottie from next door.” He gasps, looking at me and then back at the sketch book he clasps in his hand.

  “It’s not,” I deny, finishing the unpacking of the groceries.

  “It so is, bro.” He smiles as he walks over to me. “I haven’t even seen this chick, and the likeness is undeniable.”

  “Coincidence.” I shrug.

  “What’s the problem? Huh. Why’s it so hard for you to admit it’s her?” He shakes his head in confusion.

  “Because it isn’t,” I answer. “Well not intentionally anyway. When I sketch, it’s a release. You know this. This just happened to be my release today.”

  “You have some serious talent, you know.”

  I shrug my shoulders. “It’s just a distraction for me.”

  “Well with all the spare time you have, no wonder. You know, you should really try and get out. See life beyond these four walls.”

  “I’ve seen life beyond these walls, and it’s fucked up.” I exhale heavily. “This is the only place where I am safe. Where I am in control.”

  “What are you so scared of, man? Talk to me,” he pleads.

  I kick myself for giving him so much. This is now twice today that I allowed myself to be drawn into conversations I really don’t want to have. Letting my guard down.

  “No,” I answer boldly. “This is my nightmare, my demons. That’s not something I ever want to share.”

  “But bottling it all up, not dealing with shit causes it to eat away at you, bro. You’re missing out on the best years of your life. You’re a good guy. I see that, and so will everyone else given half a chance.”

  “You’re wrong,” I snap, growing uncomfortable at the way the conversation is developing. I push my sweat covered palms through the thick of my hair, moving the few strands out of my eyes. I look up to see him grinning widely at me. I know his intentions are good, just not necessary.

  Silence fills the room. I stand there, no words, no emotion, just a blank awkward expression on my face. Josh inhales a deep breath, placing the sketchbook back on the floor before walking toward me, resting his arm over my shoulder.

  “I don’t know what shit is going on in that head of yours, but I’m here should you ever need me.”

  “I don’t. But thanks.” I remove his arm from around me. “Shall we eat?”

  He claps his hands together loudly. “I thought you’d never ask.”

  Amber

  “How did it go yesterday?” Rose asks, pushing an order ticket across the counter.

  “The dance studio?” I question. Her smile gives me the unspoken answer. “It was good. Really good.” My eyes widen, answering enthusiastically. “I had an awesome time yesterday. The owner, Molly was welcoming and even though I’m the newbie, they all made me feel really welcome.”

  “You think you’ll get much work from it?” Rose tilts her head to one side, her eyes staring at me, waiting for an answer.

  “I don’t know. Hopefully,” I say with a shrug of my shoulders. “They have an awesome tutor program. I’m hoping to get a spot on the apprentice scheme.”

  “Really? Wow. You want to teach kids to dance?”

  “I really do. It’s all I’ve dreamt about for years. I’ve done the shows, the competitions. The natural progression is teaching.”

  She looks at me pointedly, her lip downturned a little. “What’s wrong with your face?” I ask with a scowl.

  “I’ve never been good at anything. I wish I had a dream, a passion.”

  “Just because you don’t have one now, doesn’t mean you won’t find one later in life.”

  “Huh, you think?”

  “Sure,” I answer, in my most positive and upbeat voice possible. “It might take time, but you’ll get there.”

  “Thanks.” She smiles, raising her thick drawn on eyebrows. I can’t help but chuckle to myself. “And your first day at college, how did that go? Did you see my douchebag brother?”

  “Thankfully, no.” I roll my eyes, “I didn’t see your brother. I completed a lot of forms and got a tour of the place. It was okay I guess.”

  “You’ll love it. Just give it time.”

  I continue to work the espresso machine, making up the orders she just pushed my way. “See the thing is, Rose, I’m not a school kinda gal. I’m a free bird. I only really feel free when I dance, ya know?”

  “Not really,” she says with a half-smile, her head shaking from side to side a little.

  “Dancing is an expression, a way that I convey and release my emotions.” I want her to understand what it means to me, why I have to dance. It’s not an option anymore; it’s a part of me, one I never want to lose. “It’s part of my DNA. That’s just how it is.”

  “Okay.” She looks at me blankly before a brief smile twitches at the corner of her mouth. She takes the drinks I’ve just placed on the counter top and saunters over to the rowdy group of workman sitting in the corner. The incessant noise of the café is too much today. I’ll be glad when my shift is over and I can crash back at the apartment.

  The sound of Rose screeching catches my attention. I stand on my tiptoes, trying to get a look at what prompted the noise. Rose is standing there, her arms across her chest. One of the beefy looking guys keeps trying to grab her ass. Watching only a few more seconds of the guys leering and leeching at her, I can no longer hold back my annoyance.

  “Hey,” I yell over to them. “Keep those hands to yourself, mister. We don’t have trouble in here,” I say firmly, a fake smile plastered on my face. I look up at Rose and I get the feeling she’s a little intimidated by the group. I pull on her arm, moving her far enough away from the table.

  “You guys ordering?” I ask, pulling out the order pad and pencil from the pouch in the front of my apron. The guys laugh loudly. I look at the one guy, widening my eyes, signaling for an answer.

  “Hmm,” he pauses for a second. “How about a huge fucking slice of you? I bet you taste delicious,” he slurs. His tongue darts out, licking his lips as he leers at me. His eyes wander the full length of my body. The table erupts in to jeers and laughter, but I remain calm, not getting drawn into this guy’s bullshit.

  I take a step back, putting a little space between us. “Not today, sunshine, but we do have a great cake selection if you’d like to try.” I cock my head at him, waiti
ng for an answer.

  “Oh, I want to try.” He reaches his hand toward me, grabbing a handful of ass. Before I have time to react, I feel my body involuntarily moving.

  In the haze of what’s happening, I turn to see Bob, the sound of his deep voice reverberating around the room. “Lay another finger on my girls and you’ll have to answer to me,” he growls, his face close to the men. Bob’s eyes bug wide as he glares at the guy.

  “Just innocent fun, my friend. Look at them, they’re begging for it.” The group laughs in response to his lame comment, but it’s enough to push Bob over the edge.

  “Get out!” he orders, his arm thrust toward the entrance. “I won’t ask again,” he says boldly, crossing his arms over his chest, waiting for their reaction. The sound of screeching chairs and cups smashing causes me to jump a little. The group of guys are making as much of a mess as possible.

  “We’re going alright!” they shout, making their way over to the door, doing everything they can to make a scene. Luckily it’s not busy; just a few regulars who are looking at us sympathetically.

  “Look at this mess.” Bob sighs, throwing his hands up in the air.

  “I’ll get it cleared up right away. Give me a few minutes and you’ll never know those guys were here,” I say, resting my hand on his arm.

  “I’ll get the broom and the dustpan,” Rose offers. Bob and Rose walk off into the backroom, heads together, and I wonder what they’re talking about. I kneel down, collecting the few items that hadn’t broken.

  “Are you okay, my dear?” asks Rita, one of the café’s regulars. This was only my second shift and both times she has been in. I’d found out all about the familiar faces, Rose filling me in on the details I need to know about them.

  “I’m fine, thanks.” I look up, smiling at her wrinkled face. My eyes are drawn to a black item under one of the chairs. I reach for it, realizing it must be one of the guy’s wallets. I open it to see bank cards and a shit ton of cash. I smile to myself, pushing it in the front of my apron while I continue to clean up. Within seconds, Rose is back, handing me the broom and dustpan.