There were adjustable lamps bolted to the walls on either side of the headboard. Neither of them were turned on. I debated reaching for them, wondering if he would need the light. Didn’t artists need light? The only illumination in the room came from the window. He would have turned the lamps on if he had wanted them on, Idecided.
Bellamy waved me over as he bent and lifted the solar screen shade so that the window was fully open. Near the end of his bed beside the window, he had set up his easel and was waiting for me. I grimaced at it. I strode in and waited near the opposite side of his bed. He gestured for me to move closer, and I sighed but did as herequested.
"Okay," he said. "Do you want to sit orstand?"
I shrugged. "It's yourpainting."
"You're going to have to be still for a long time. I'm not going to get it all done today, but if you're standing, it might be uncomfortable after a fewhours."
I shrugged again. "I can take it." My eyes strayed to the rest of the room, but more repeatedly back to thatguitar.
Bellamy grinned. "Go ahead and stand over there." He motioned towards the wooden sliding door that matched the gray tones of his bedroom and led into his private bathroom. He stood me in front of it and then turned my body to face the window. "For the lighting," he murmured, as he tugged my wrist forward and adjusted my arms so that one was down, and the other was raised. He paused and took a step back. "How does that feel?" heasked.
"It's fine,” I choked out. He was so close I could smell his cologne. I wasn’t actually sure if it was cologne or not, but it was crisp and spicy. I breathed deeply. I jerked as the scent tugged me back to the memory of Bellamy and I kissing in Marv’s car. I sucked in a breath as my eyes zipped down to hismouth.
"Your arm might get tired," he muttered more to himself than to me. I watched his lips move for a brief moment before shaking my head to clear away the rampant thoughts. It was wrong of me to want a repeat especially when I had kissed Knix as well, and Marv… My face started to heatup.
I smiled, trying to alleviate my embarrassment – though, thankfully, he didn’t seem to notice. "It'll be fine, whatever you do," I assured him, "you're talented." I knew this, because when I had helped move everyone from the condominium complex to the house, I had carried some of the most startling paintings I had ever seen. Reminiscent of dark, abstract art and hand drawn profiles dispersed with pastel coloring, they had been achinglybeautiful.
When I had asked where the guys had gotten such art, Marv had pulled me aside and told me. Finally, Bellamy finished adjusting me how he wanted and returned to his easel. He was right, within minutes, my arms grew tired, but noticing the enraptured look on his face, I didn't dare move or say anything about mydiscomfort.
"So," Ibegan.
"Hmmm?" He bit his lip and stared at the canvas, flicking his eyes back and forth between the easel and where Isat.
“You’re an artist… a mechanic… a recruiter…” I paused at that when he shot me a look beneath his brows. I grinned. “And a musician,” I finished, nodding towards the guitar. “Is there anything you can’tdo?”
Bellamy shrugged, not bothering to look over his shoulder at the instrument against the wall. His entire focus was on the canvas. “I have hobbies,” he answeredvaguely.
“Lots of hobbies,” I commented. “Do you have afavorite?”
Bellamy’s eyes flickered once again, taking in my position for a brief moment. He didn’t answer for several minutes as he eyed me and the stretch of canvas in front of him. He wasn’t painting yet. Not exactly. Was he… outlining? Sketching? I wanted to see italready.
“I like everything I do,” he said,finally.
“Could I hear you play something sometime?” I asked, curious. Would he be a slow strummer? A fast and hard rock player? I had met kids back in high school who loved listening to rap and rock and roll, and yet, when they played their guitars in the courtyard or by the stairs in the early morning before classes had started, they had done so quietly. Maybe it had been nerves, or a lack of confidence, but their fingers had moved slowly over the strings, plucking and making them dance at a pace that was simple and seductively intimate. I wondered what kind of musician Bellamywas.
“I suppose so,” he replied with a wince. “I haven’t played in a long while. I might not be much goodanymore.”
“I doubt that,” I replied. “I bet it’s like riding a bike, you neverforget.”
“I suppose,” herepeated.
Isighed.
He paused and then his arm dropped as he leaned around his easel. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to be so…” Bellamy reached up with his free hand and tugged on a strand of his dark hair. It was getting longer. When I had first met him, it was already around his shoulders, it wasn’t that much longer now, but perhaps that was because he had all of it dragged into a side ponytail. To keep it out of his face while he was painting, I assumed. Maybe it just seemed longer when it was down. “I’ll play for you sometime,” Bellamy said without looking me in the eye. “I’m just not really big on playing much thesedays.”
“Why?” I didn’t move. I didn’t want to forget my position, but had I been able to, I would have dropped my arms and gone to him. I was curious. Bellamy was such an enigma. I felt like I needed to be close to him. To uncover all that he was. The Artist. The Musician. The Mechanic and car lover. And most certainly, the IrisBoy.
He shrugged, his muscles bunching under his clothes, making the fabric stretch with him. “I’m just out of practice isall.”
I wondered about that, but he looked so uncomfortable, I decided to just let it go. “Okay, then some othertime…”
He relaxed almost as soon as the words were out of my mouth and smiled at me that sweet Bellamy smile that reminded me of cotton candy and possessive kisses. I blinked as he stepped out of sight and refocused his attention on the canvas. That kiss… we hadn’t talked aboutit.
"Can I ask you aquestion?"
"You just did," he said, a teasing note in his tone. He remained hidden by the canvas, barely peeking around every now andthen.