No Love Allowed

Six

By Friday of the following week, Suzy had done only three activities: eat, sleep, and paint. Not necessarily in that order.

She started by painting his eyes, trying to find the right shade of brown to match how she remembered them. So many shades, so little time. Eventually she moved on to the contours of his face, combining flesh tones like an alchemist in search of the perfect mixture when re-creating the angles and planes. His hair was the toughest part. She had to blend several types of blondish-brown, trying to translate onto canvas the right texture of softness she imagined she would've felt if she had combed her fingers through it at the dock that afternoon.

As far as muses went, Oh Sehun was frustrating. She couldn't quite figure him out, and she knew she wouldn't see him. They might both live in Seoul, but they were galaxies apart.

She was in the final stages of her third attempt when the doorbell rang. With a jump, she pulled her hand away. Good thing the brush hasn't touch the canvas yet, or there would have been a paint streak across his face.

The bell rang again.

Aside from the occasional pizza delivery, the button beside the front door was hardly ever used. Had her mom forgotten her keys or something? Not likely.

When the third bell ring echoes through the whole house, she placed her brush into the jar of turpentine she kept nearby and grabbed a towel.

Another ring.

"Coming!" she yelled, rubbing the towel over her fingers to get as much paint off as she could. Despite ignoring the cleaning, her mother would't appreciate paint on the doorknob. Which reminded her: must clean house.

As a final check, she rubbed her hand against her overalls. Once satisfied she wouldn't leave any other oily residue, she turned the lock. Only when the door was already halfway open did she remember of asking who it was first. Might be some rapist or home invader, she would always say.

As a safety precaution, Suzy warned her most threatening voice, "If you're here to rape me or invade my home, I have nine and one already dialed!" Then she threw the door wide open. Her lips formed an O when she recognized the person standing on the other side. "You're not a rapist or home invader."

A sexy smile accompanied a raised eyebrow and the removal of sunglasses that revealed those brown eyes she had been dreaming of all week. Damn. They were a darker shade than she first thought. Or maybe it was because of the lightning was different.

"I certainly hope not," he said in a mild tone that quickly shifted to serious. "What kind of neighborhood do you live in that you'd have to ask if you're about to get raped or invaded before opening the door?"

"The kind guys like you don't usually comes." She took him all in. White button-down with sleeves rolled up to his elbows and tucked into navy blue . . . . "What are those pants called?"

He looked down. "Chinos?"

"I don't know what those are but you pull them off." She crossed her arms and bit the tip of her pinky, enjoying the sight of him. Must have been the confidence in his stance and the way his eyes didn't waver when he returned her gaze. No guys like him at the public school she went to. In fact, guys like him got punched in the face where she went. Well, maybe not Sehun. He looked like he could hold his own in a fight. She'd have to feel for herself to make sure, but from the way the clothes sat content on his frame, she could tell he sported a tight, lean body girls drooled over. Her mouth certainly watered. She wasn't ashamed to admit it. No harm in appreciating God-given beauty. She was a painter; she should know.

"What are you wearing?" he asked.

"My painting clothes," she answered, still admiring him. How could she convince him to pose for her without seeming creepy?