Little Miss Nosy

Macey Abrams

"I wish I were that talented."

I jump at the intrusion before continuing with my brush strokes, smiling a bit as I let him admire my work. Basking in the peace his presence brings. "If what you do on the football field isn't talent, then what is it?"

Trevor ponders this for a moment while I fill in the painting with a few more leaves. There is green paint caked beneath my fingernails from when I fought to get the crusted caps off, as well as smeared on my shirt sleeve. Another article of clothing ruined but my brush hits the canvas faster than I can remember to roll up my sleeves. Especially since I'll have no access to the art room over break.

"Huh. I just think of it as tackling dudes who need a few more swipes of deodorant."

I shake my head, stifling a laugh. "Not everyone can do what you do. It's talent, just not the same as mine." When I glance over my shoulder, he's not watching the canvas like I expected. His eyes are glued on me. A brilliant smile pulling at his lips as he eyes my movement fondly. I turn away before he catches my blush.

"You thinking of going to school for art?"

Not if my parents have anything to do with it. They're too busy singing the praises of my brother as he sets off for med school. I get it. One profession is regarded as more important than the other but I wish they'd understand my passion for creativity the same way they understand his for medicine.

"Maybe for a minor," I say, honestly, and leave it at that. "Crap!"

"What's wrong?"

"I ran out of green again. Can you pass me the bottle?" I giggle as he purses his lips, finger trailing over the numerous shades of green to choose from out of the crate. "It's labeled fern or something."

"Ah!" He pops it out and hands it to me. Our fingers connect for a split second and I relish in the feel of his warmth, even the harsh feel of the band-aids wrapped around his skin before pulling back and prying open the lid.

"Macey!" From the way he drags my name out, the low groan accompanying it, I know the 'let's take our time' rule is eating at him just as much as it is me. But he got out of a long-term relationship just last month. I'll be damned if I settle as the girl he uses to mend his broken heart.

Not that I think Trevor would do something like that, but better safe than heartbroken.

"Ah, ah. We had a deal." I concentrate on slowing down my brushstrokes as excitement courses through my veins. There's a reason why Bella and I are friends. We enjoy the thrill of being in control. Of being what boys desire most. Give a piece and once that taste is forgotten, have them pining for more. Bella allows that craving for admiration drive her to a dark place. A place where she's not afraid to get what she wants no matter who suffers.

Though I enjoy leading this dance Trevor and I are entangled in, I would never hurt him. He's put his trust in me and I'll take the next step when I feel we're ready. He's a good one and you don't come across many of those these days.

"We did. And I'll abide by it. But I'm going to complain the entire time." His ringtone chimes through the art room. I recognize it as the one he assigned his dad. "I have to go. Dads want me home for family cook night. They found this plant-based recipe on Pinterest the other day. All I know is there's no meat and like a handful of mushrooms. God, wish me luck."

He exits the room. His footsteps fade in the hall just to be replaced with another pair accompanied by a jingle of keys I'd grown familiar with throughout the years.

"Oh, Mace! I thought you'd be done by now."

"Almost," I mutter, tongue between my lips as I initial on the lower right-hand corner of the canvas.