Wild Girl ✔️

chapter 9: jealous

Sebastian

When Rose unlocked her door, she turned to me and smiled. "For you," she said, holding out the painting.

I raised my eyebrows. "You want me to have it?" She simply nodded, extending her arms out further. As much as I appreciated the offer, the painting didn't belong to me. "You keep it, Rose."

"Why?" She asked skeptically, crossing her arms over her chest as she leaned the painting against the wooden wall. She watched me with those analytical eyes of hers.

I shrugged. "I think you need it more than I do."

She cocked her head to the side. "You think I need a painting of you barely clothed?" I felt my face heat up. I was beginning to realize that Rose enjoyed making me blush.

Rose told me that she had only ever painted two people: her ex-boyfriend and, now, myself. She didn't have to say it, but I could sense that painting was intimate for her — that she was just rediscovering her love for it.

This painting was a symbol of that, a reminder. The last thing I wanted to do was take it away from her.

"I think you need this painting to remind yourself that you're able to create something beautiful," I told her. The smug smirk quickly vanished from her face and I watched her lip begin to quiver. "What?" I took a step forward as she took a step back.

She bent down quickly and picked up the painting. When her eyes locked on mine, I could see it once more — the familiar sadness, the darkness that folded around the soft lines of her face.

I opened my mouth to ask, to say anything to prolong this conversation but Rose spoke first. "Goodnight," she whispered, hugging the painting to her chest as she retreated into the cabin.

Had I said something wrong? I watched the door close behind her, shutting me out.

I sighed. Frustrated with myself, I took off my beanie and ran a shaky hand through my hair as I replayed our conversation in my head.

I need a damn hair cut.

More importantly, I needed to get off Rose's porch and stop staring longingly at her door.

I stood there for another moment and, when it was clear her door wouldn't be opened, I sulked back to my cabin and shut the door behind me as I rested my forehead against the smooth wood. What had I said that sent her running inside? I knew painting was personal for her, but she wanted to paint me. Why would she shy away from talking about it?

I knew all about wanting to push people away. The look in Rose's eyes when she said goodnight was exactly that. And I wanted to know what had happened to her to make her so reserved. So afraid.

Maybe we had more in common than we thought.

I turned around, already imagining climbing into bed, when I noticed someone watching me.

I swore under my breath. "Dammit, Violet. What are you doing in here?"

She was sitting on the ledge of the couch, her feet dangling in the air. The mischievous grin that usually marked her face was missing, replaced with a deep thoughtfulness.

I opened the fridge and took out a water bottle, drinking the entire thing in a mater of seconds. She still hadn't spoken.

"Violet?" I asked gently as I walked towards the couch. Out of habit, my hand reached out to comfort her before I awkwardly tucked it into my pocket.

Her gaze flicked up from the floor, her eyes latching onto mine like magnets. "Do you remember when we first met, Seb?" She asked quietly, sadness weighing down her voice.