Paint Me Saved ✓ Book 1

2. One last night

Zemira

In school, I had taken up woodworking classes for two weeks, trying to make a toolbox. The instructions were simple – to act with patience, evaluate the rough edges and trim off the excess while shaping the log into form.

Ignoring them all, I expedited the process and simply patched things that seemed glueable.

As I travelled up the elevator, I recalled the mess that was my teacher's table when the toolbox fell apart.

Was I doing it again, making another bad decision?

The elevator doors chimed open into the restricted rooftop area. After a quick scan down the empty hallway, Leonardo swiped a card and pushed the door open onto the rooftop.

A cold draft caught my sweat-slicked skin, easing off my panicky state. While on our way up, I texted Gabe, asking him to verify the man's identity.

I expected Gabe to turn on his brotherly mode, telling me he was coming to my rescue. Against my expectation, he delivered a smiling emoji, a thumbs up, and a one-liner. They don't make men like him anymore.

"Were you able to verify my ID?" Leonardo asked, viewing the majestic skyline ahead of us. "It's old but I'm sure it's still valid."

"Genuine IDs' prove nothin. Ted Bundy had genninne IDs too."

"Are you one of those obsessed fangirls who'd bring him up in every conversation?" His eyes glistened when he smiled as if his face wasn't used to it.

"I'm being cactocius about this."

"You mean cautions? He laid my heels on the floor and moved away, giving me space. "You can leave if you want. "

The reason for travelling up to the roof was a question that taunted me for an answer. If I walked away, I would always wonder.

"Why are we here, Leonardo? And how I get you to get to me to sober?" Not that I was drunk anymore.

On any normal day, I would have left. But this wasn't a normal day. From tomorrow, my life would be dictated as a routine until I turned old and gray and nobody would recognize me. This night was my escape. My last night of freedom.

From where I stood, the rooftop pool appeared even more stunning. It lit from all corners beneath the dark blanket of the skies, the dancing water formed rippling shadows around me.

"Getting you sober is going to be fun but you'll have to trust me." The ocean behind his eyes widened. There was something about him that rendered an assurance about my safety. "Decide what you want to do. Feet first, or dive?"

"Dive."

And we dove.

Coldwater pricked my skin, jolting my senses. Whatever doubts I had dissolved in the rippling water. I had never acted like this before. After tonight, I might never again. But in the limbo that was today, I was living.

"Feeling better now?" Leonardo asked, swimming closer when we resurfaced.

"Yes." I gasped for air. "So much better!"

I dived under again, uncaring of falling sick or someone finding out about my midnight adventure. I stayed in the water for so long, my fingers pruned, and my limbs grew numb. Leonardo swam to the edge, perched on the outer rim and watched me circle the pool.

My chest burned up residual air, begging me to stop. When I swam to the edge and climbed out, the tricky part began. My long trail georgette dress had turned into a mop, drinking up half the pool. Any attempt to squeeze it off failed.