Waiting To Exhale

Fouty-six

   A large smile spreads across my face as I let my fancy new paintbrush glide across the blank canvace, feeling what pure joy is again. I almost forgot what it felt like. I fill the canvace-and my overalls-with bright, vivid colors. It's a good thing I tied my long twists up.

   It's such a shame Monica couldn't make it, she had some personal issues to take care of. I don't mind so much before. Dylan left me alone to tend to some business. So I'm all alone in his beautiful living room. Hours before I arrived Dylan layed down a drop cloth and moved his perfectly white furniture around so I won't get any paint on anything other than myself and the canvas.

   It takes me a good hour and thirty minutes to finish my work but when I'm done I feel completely satisfied. The painting is full of sharp, crazy lines that come together to produce a woman with holding her chin with one hand. The red really brings out the pain in the woman's life. How she's thinking so hard about everything. I hadn't intended on drawing something so dark. It just kind of happened. I hope Dylan likes it because he paid me a lumpsome of money and I really don't feel like having to return it.

   I release a breath I hadn't realised I had been holding before making my way to Dylan's office. I stop just outside the closed door.

   This whole situation is still so weird to me. I'm painting a picture for a guy I cheated on my boyfriend with. I'm the girl he cheated on his girlfriend with. He hasn't made any pass at me other than staring but I wouldn't call that a pass. Still, this is wrong. I finally work up the nerve to knock on the door. He yells for me to come in.

   I open the door up slowly then walk in. Fumbling with my fingers. I avoid eye contact. "I'm done if you want to come see it. I'm not sure you'll like it and if you don't I'm sorry. I hadn't intended on making the painting the way it is. It just sort of came out that way." Great. Now I'm rambling.

   He puts down the stack of manila folders and stand up from his seat, making his way towards me. I stand a little taller. "Lead the way." He follows close behind as I make my way to my painting. I'm not sure what he's thinking when he sees my painting. He states at it with an unreadable expression. Maybe he hates it. Maybe he love it. I won't know unless he says something to break this awkward silence bestowed upon us. I fumble with my fingers some more. "I like it. Its beautiful. I'm sure there's a much deeper meaning to it than I'm thinking of but then again I'm not the artist. I say it's well worth the money."

   I smile. "Thank you."

   "No thank you."

   "Um, Dylan?" I should just get this over with before I change my mind. I need to clear the air. What better way to do that than to talk about it like adults. He looks at me expectantly, my que to go on. "About the trip,"

   "I was hoping you forgot all about that. I invited you here to make sure you did. I thought when you said yes you had no clue who I was ," He rush, sounding weary. Certainly how I expected this to go.

   Rubbing my forehead, "I'm sorry about that. I really am." Well I sort of am.

   "After Mason told me about you I had to do some research," I don't like where this is going. The thought of someone researching me is more than a little creepy. "Olivia you're a little girl. I could go to jail behind this. Mason too. I don't even know why he's messing with you. He acts like everything we built doesn't matter to him," He continues his rant in a language I'm unfamiliar with. He begins pacing the floor like a mad man.

   I shrug. "Me either. How old is Mason anyway, I just know he's an adult?"

   "Good god. You don't even know his age. You really are young and naive. Look I can't say I haven't been thinking about that night because I have," he says in a modulated voice. I step back putting some distance between us.

   I can't believe he's putting me in this situation. Sure I had a nice time, but he has a beautiful girlfriend that's just flat out crazy over him. What kind of person would that make me to go after someone's boyfriend. Someone as sweet as Monica.

   "You should be thinking about Monica."

   "I am which is why I have to be honest with you. What happened that night was a mistake. I love Monica. I do. What happened between us wasn't suppose to happen and it can never happen again, you hear me?" He runs his hands over the length of his face. Oh. I guess I jumped the gun too early. 

   Still, I need to get as far away from him as possible. As far away from the situation. Mason cannot find out about us. I've already received one terrible beating from him and I don't want another. He always thinks I'm cheating on him when I'm next to or talking to any guy, excluding Dylan. He trust him. If he ever found out about this horrible secret He would kill us both. Which makes what I do next so shocking; with his face so close to mine I lean on and plant my gloss coated lips against his. He's shocked at first but eventually begin to ease into it. I don't give him enough time to get comfortable because I pull away.

   He stare at me with angry eyes. I watch, horrified, as he runs his fingers over his swolen lips.

   I step back, putting a lot of distance between us. "I don't know why I did that. Um, I'm going to go call...Mason to come pick me up. I'm finished here." I try to move past him but he grabs my arm and spin me around to look at him. I pull away again and run out the door, dialing Mason's number with shaky hands. I clear my throat and try to get my breathing under control.

   "Mason I'm done with the painting. Are you coming to pick me up now?"

   "How was it?"

   "It came out pretty good. You on your way, I'm tired and covered in paint?"

   I hear him sigh into the phone. "Just have Dylan drop you off. I'm stuck at work. I'll shoot Dylan a text." He hangs up without giving me the chance to protest. I gather myself up before going inside.

   The drive back to the penthouse is surprisingly quiet. Dylan doesn't even look my way. I feel so embarrassed. I don't know what that was. I do know that I don't have feelings for him at all. Maybe I was just in the moment or something. When we get back Dylan walks me to the penthouse despite my protest. He invites himself inside. He makes sure I'm settled in before leaving. He acts like I'm the bad guy. I didn't trick him into having sex with me. I may have been buzzed but I certainly don't remember him asking for my age. He's the real pig.