Melody bites her lips like she always does when she’s nervous or apprehensive.
“I mean...you don’t look old at all.” She raises her eyes bravely to mine and holds my gaze for a second or two, long enough for me to get lost in the enchanting pools of her eyes. “You look ageless,” she finally says, lowering her eyes from mine.
“I suppose I should thank you for that ego boost,” I reply, fighting the silly smile that’s threatening to break out on my face. “Will you call me Abram, then?”
Melody seems to think about that for a long moment.
“Yes, Abram,” she finally says, a bashful smile playing on her sexy full lips.
I love the sound of my name on her lips, but I decide not to dwell on that feeling.
The things I could do to those lips.
“Why do you think you aren’t fit to model, Melody?” I ask gently, keeping my voice rational.
Melody shrugs a little and sighs softly. “I feel ridiculous,” she mutters almost to herself.
“You would,” I reply. “That’s because you don’t feel comfortable even in your skin. Look at me, Melody.”
She slowly raises her gaze to mine, her eyes filled with conflicting emotions. I smile softly into her eyes.
“You’re beautiful. You don’t know it, but I’ll show you. Can you just relax against the couch? You don’t need to hold a pose. Sit at ease and think about things that help you stay calm.”
Melody lets out a shaky breath and physically relaxes against the couch.
“Oh, that’s better. I think I have a little more respect for models. I can’t imagine holding that pose for hours.”
I chuckle in amusement.
“You’d do just fine,” I say, but I can see that she doesn’t believe me.
“Yeah, sure,” she mumbles with a soft snicker.
“So, tell me, Melody…,” I start in a conversational tone, keeping my face behind my huge canvas. “Have you always been such a good girl? Always so prim and proper?”
“I’m not prudish,” Melody says quietly. “Besides, is there something wrong with that?”
She sounds a little defensive, but that’s expected.
“Not quite,” I reply, peeping from behind my board to flash her a quick smile. “In fact, I used to like a straight-laced girl. She was my first love.”
“What happened?” Melody asks, her voice ringing with guarded curiosity.
“She broke my heart,” I reply simply.
Melody laughs softly, shaking her head. “I find that quite hard to believe. You don’t look like someone who’d get his heart broken.”
“Wanna hear about it?” I ask with a small shrug. Melody nods earnestly. “In return, you’ll tell me about your first.”
She lowers her lids, nervously biting her lower lip.
“I...I don’t... I’ve not...there’s no first time.”
My hands' pause, arranging my paints. I study her face, trying to determine the real meaning behind her words. It slowly dawns on me what she is trying to say.
My chest clenches and unclenches with a dangerous feeling.
I can’t believe….