Feather Bound

Chapter 8

"Are you fucking serious?" You called out, but the door slammed shut behind him before he probably even heard you. You groaned, throwing your head back in frustration and running your hand through your hair. You grimaced, your stomach still twisting from the movie, giving you an uncomfortable sense of knots in your stomach. Why in the hell would he pick a movie like that for a date? You could handle a certain amount of scary, but that had been disgustingly gory. You knew that he saw that horror was not in your profile. You sniffled, your emotions suddenly threatening to overwhelm you.

You sucked in a breath, trying to stop the tears that threatened to flow over. His stupid mind games were not going to get the best of you. You were so confused, lost as to what was happening. For just a second, it was like he was a totally different person, the person you'd seen interact with others. The one whose smile lit up a camera, who cared for people who were hurt or sick. The Wing Hero Hawks, not the bumbling asshole that had been showing up on dates with you.

You were hurt, you were angry, and you were well within your rights to feel that way. You didn't deserve this, not by a long shot. You had dealt with enough drama and abuse with your ex; you didn't need this. You were doing nothing but following the program as you were expected to. Why couldn't he do the same? Why the hell did he ever enter the program if he was just going to chase off everyone he'd been matched with? It made no sense, it seemed to you like he was ruining every opportunity that you had to get closer.

You sighed, putting your head into your hands and letting out a long breath as you tried to calm your thoughts and emotions. It's fine, this was going to be a process. Besides, he'd shown some kind of growth this time, sharing his popcorn and leaving the movie early. You weren't going to give up now, it was far too late and too much on the line.

You reached down to gather your bag and headed outside to meet the Commission car. As you stepped onto the sidewalk, you looked around, secretly hoping he'd changed his mind. You were dying for a chance to actually just talk. No bullshit. Everything he'd planned so far had made it difficult to have a real conversation, evading deep questions like it was a game of dodgeball. You were sure that if you could just talk, maybe just maybe, you could convince him you weren't so bad.

But he hadn't waited; both sides of the sidewalk were empty, and you couldn't help the overwhelming disappointment that flowed through you. You let a sigh escape, the little bit of hope you had gone as swiftly as he had disappeared. Thankfully, the Commission car arrived shortly after you stepped outside, and you were grateful to get away from this entire experience. You leaned your head against the window, watching the buildings pass by, the driver glancing at you every once in a while with a frown.

"Everything okay, Mrs. L/N?" He asked as the car pulled up to your apartment building. You gave him a small smile in return, nodding your head. It was too much effort to lie. Of course, everything wasn't okay. Nothing in your life had ever been okay, but other people didn't need to know that. They didn't need to deal with the drama or the trauma. Besides, even if you wanted to talk about it, where would you even start? With how your parents threw you out or perhaps the absolute hell your ex had put you through. It was too much for anyone to understand and maybe Hawks knew that.

You knew they'd run a background check, you were sure they knew more information about you than you wished would stay hidden. They were the fucking government after all. It would explain a lot about his serious avoidance in talking to you. You came with too much baggage and he knew it.

You stepped out of the car, giving the driver a small thank you before making your way up to your apartment. You sighed as you pulled your keys out to unlock the deadbolt and pushed the door open, moving into the living room to open up a window and allow the summer breeze to fill your apartment. You take the moment to bask in the late afternoon sunshine and take a deep breath. You smiled to yourself, heading to your closet to pull out a fresh canvas. You had the rest of the afternoon to yourself; might as well make use of it.

You gathered your easel, canvas, and paints, taking your time to set them up in your living room. After changing your outfit, you pulled up a chair, squirted some paint onto your palette, and grabbed a brush. The smell of all the acrylic paint started to calm your nerves, painting was the only way you were destressed anymore, it was the only thing to keep you calm in situations like this. You closed your eyes for a moment, mentally picturing your subject.

A soft smile crossed your face, and you quickly got to work. The sound of the brush on the canvas was soothing, and it had a calming effect on you. It didn't take long for you to completely lose yourself in the process.

As the afternoon progressed, you were absorbed in your work, and it was evening by the time you finally finished. Wiping your face with the back of your hand, you smudged some paint across your cheek. Glancing down at your paint-splattered clothes, you were relieved that you had changed before you began. The speckles of color had long dried and were impossible to get out now.

You looked at the canvas once more, a soft smile on your face. You had managed to capture her perfectly, from the soft brown curls framing her young face to her large, expressive green eyes. Tears welled up in your eyes as you gazed at the painting, and you quickly wiped them away, smudging more paint across your cheek.

Standing up, you stretched, your joints cracking and popping as you moved. God you felt old. You took the canvas to your balcony to let it dry while you cleaned up the mess inside.

"Just a little longer," you whispered to yourself as you snapped the easel shut. "Just a little longer, and it'll all be okay again."