bare | 18+

2. Phase One

My life wasn't picture perfect—not any longer at least—but it felt like it was when autumn came around.

It was nice seeing the bright orange pumpkins that sat on the doorstep of every other house and the trees shed their dull leaves. I liked that weird time of the year when the mornings were cool and the afternoons were warm and sunny.

My grandmother—Heidi preferred Christmas, yet she still went all out on fall decorations because it was my favorite time of the year.

"Okay, I'm going to start dinner. I'll call you back down later."

Heidi is a sweet woman and one of the very few people I hold dear to my heart. She's a natural beauty and it stayed with her even as the strands of her brown curls turned to a wispy grey.

"You don't need my help?" I ask with a playful pout on my lips. The idea of sitting around whilst she cooked just felt wrong. "I don't need your help with burning my kitchen."

"Listen–it was just that one time!"

"I'll call you if I truly need help," Heidi smiles and pats my cheek. "Okay, I'm going now."

"Mhm," she hums and I can't help but grin as I leave the kitchen. The plan was to stay up all night and eat popcorn and candy as we watched scary movies, but I still decided to go upstairs and into my old room—out of curiosity.

Ever since the death of my father, I decided it'd be best if I moved into Heidi's. She offered the idea before I even thought of it. Sometimes, it didn't feel real—the fact that Heidi is my only family now. By family, I mean people I care for and care for me back, not those who pretend to care at annual family functions.

She thought about redecorating to suit the average teenage girl, but I didn't want that. Walking into this room is like walking into a time capsule. I like the feeling it gives me, the feeling of being young again. The pink everywhere and the shelves of stuffed animals give me this overwhelming feeling of nostalgia I never want to go away.

I fold my arms across my chest at the chill of the room. Across the doorway was a white vintage desk. The window above was slightly cracked open, sheer curtains whirling around at the cool breeze.

It didn't make sense for Heidi to leave it open at this time of the year.

Slowly, I make my way towards the desk to close the window, but I stop when I see what's beyond the open window. It was a warm glow behind a silhouette—all framed in a rectangle.

Like a painting.

I watch as—I assume is a man—pulls his shirt up and over his lean body, ink stretching down his spine. I catch a glimpse of his abs when he turns to set his shirt down.

The chances of our eyes meeting are so high, yet I stand there like a fool, so immersed in this live painting. I just couldn't look away. He's pulling his last article of clothing and my heart is thumping against my chest the closer his fingers are to the waistband of his boxers. It was almost performative. It was until then I decided to pull down the blinds and walk away as I should have a few seconds ago.

I feel so stupid but I'm holding in a smile as I exit the room. Maybe I'd be better off in the kitchen with Heidi.

* * *

Ciara groans as she poorly attempts to carry a box full of clothes out of her car.

"Christ, Nova. I know you're rich and all, but having this much shit is actually criminal."

She's not exactly wrong. I do have too much stuff.

"And you love borrowing it," I retort. "Shut up."

I quickly make my way inside and drop her box inside the foyer.