Olivia picked up the brush, dabbed it into some aquamarine, and then re-focused on her canvas. She spoke with a look of indifference that was quite forced.
“Tell him I don’t want it,” she hissed.
Evelyn took a step forward, still smirking in Olivia’s peripheral vision. Her sister lowered her voice as she began painting again in long, messy strokes.
“Why are you doing this to yourself?”
Olivia stopped moving and then flicked her blue irises back to her sister. They were gorgeous when she was happy, bright as the sky, but when she was enraged, they darkened like the fury of the sea.
“You don’t know what happened,” Olivia said, returning her gaze to the canvas. “He used something against me that was very intimate, then proceeded to fuck me. I don’t take that lightly.”
A few people turned to look at them, more so out of nosiness than anything else. Olivia wasn’t making any extra efforts to speak low, but Evelyn tried to make up for it.
“He’s here, isn’t he?” Evie said.
“What does that mean?” Olivia replied.
“If he just wanted sex, then he wouldn’t make an effort to find you, buy you food, and try to convince you that those weren’t his intentions.”
Olivia felt her stomach sink. She knew her sister was right, but she wasn’t willing to admit it yet.
“So you know his intentions better than I do, eh?”
“Stop running from your feelings, Olivia,” Evelyn said.
Her voice was stern, but only in the way of someone who adored you. Olivia let the brush fall from the canvas and then let out a puffy sigh.
“Fine,” she replied. “Tell him he can come in, I suppose.”
Evelyn grinned, then reached out to squeeze her sister’s cheek. Olivia couldn’t help but smile, shaking away Evie’s childlike gesture.
“Let yourself enjoy something, for once,” she whispered.
The few people who had remained in the studio had left. Leaving Henry and Olivia alone so they could eat together without any interruption. Olivia wondered if Henry had paid off any of the other patrons, which would have been a little romantic, to say the least.
Olivia brought a table from the side of the room into the center near her easel, and Henry laid out a few sandwiches he’d purchased from a swanky cafe. He was wearing plain slacks and a golf shirt, his shoulders looking wide and delicious. Olivia couldn’t deny how physically attracted she was to him. It was obvious in the way that her heart started beating in her chest anytime he was around, like a bird locked in a cage.
They began opening their sandwiches slowly, and the scent of it hit Olivia hard. Her stomach growled, which made their eyes meet. A sweet smile grew on his lips.
“I suppose you are hungry,” he said softly.
Olivia smiled, not realizing she was licking her lips. She wasn’t sure what she was more hungry for, Henry or the decadent sandwich.
“How did you know I was here?” she asked, taking a polite bite into what was a turkey club.
“Your sister was very generous with her information,” he said. “I went by your place with some food, and she was there looking for you too.”
Olivia ingested the sandwich slowly, although she wanted to devour it like a ravenous animal. She hadn’t eaten enough breakfast, that was for sure.
“She certainly is generous,” Olivia replied sarcastically.
“I’m sorry if the food is kind of cold,” Henry said, eyeing her sandwich.
Olivia looked down, noticing she had eaten the majority of her meal before Henry had taken a single bite. She smiled with her mouth full, finished chewing, and then rolled her eyes at him in a cute, animated fashion.
“Oh yes, as you can tell, I’m suffering,” she said.
He chuckled, then began eating his sandwich in the quiet serenity of the art studio.