Captivated

The Painter

The car ride to my house took forever. My mind wouldn't give up the thought of Elizabeth with Matt. My stomach clinched at the way he was holding her, the way she had her hands around him, the way her hair had been wrapped around his fingers. I didn't realize how hard I was clenching the stirring wheel until trickles of blood reached my knuckles. I laughed, laughed so hard that I had to pull over to prevent a car accident. What am I doing? Why do I care? What is she freaking doing to me? I punched the car horn, causing the birds in the trees to scatter. A bird, I want to be a bird flying to no where, always alone and free. But she would be the snake, venomous and dangerous.

          Once I pulled onto the road I was clueless about why I even pulled over. No one comes down this road. It's completely private. I shrugged off the idea as my mind focuses back to Elizabeth, her dark curly hair that falls over her shoulders and those eyes that would leave you on her knees. An idea struck me. I pressed the pedal causing the engine to my mustang to spring to life. The view of my house entered my vision. I barely take notice to it. I don't care if it's big, or if it's expensive. I really don't care about the damn thing.

          I pull the car into the garage before running into the downstairs dining room. I don't even use the dinning room, except for on Thanksgiving when I let Marge invite her family over. Marge is my maid. She was been since I was two; after my mother left me with my workaholic father. she was going to go jobless until I offered to hire her. I never make her do anything but she never listens and ends up cleaning this place anyway. In graduated I rent off have the house to her, and let her use it for Thanksgiving. She has such a huge-and poor- family that they nearly take up the whole house. I usually stay in my half but every year she always insists that I eat with her. That I've always been like her child, and I'm thankful for the motherly gesture. Marge has been the only person I've ever loved.

          "Marge?" I call into the empty house. No answer. I feel the smile cross my face as I run to the basement. My secret hobby waits for me in the shadows. A fine wooden easel sits at the far end of the gray basement. I look around at my shelf of brushes all stacked in paint cans. I grab the thinnest one which is scarred in old paint. I search the floor which is covered in paint cans and grab the color I need. Then I paint.

          At first it's just a pale structure, with perfect angles. I continue downwards until I have a form, a starting point. I take a darker shade of the pale, outlining the points. Enthusiasm floods through me, it's starting to look real. I grab the black paint, the darkest of all blacks, and paint a series of dark curls. The paper talks to me, showing me where to paint showing me what she looks like, acting like it's already seen her before. I take a lighter shade, gently curving around her curls. The way they stop right under her breast. I look the pale face with cheekbones, the dark curly hair. I search for a red, and gently paint the shape of her lips. Her lips, the darkest shade of ruby that I've ever seen, and the way she bites them when she thinks and they way they were swollen after her kiss with Matt. Her kiss with Matt, he made her lips that way not me.

          I perfect her noise, and add a light shade of pink on her cheeks. I add the freckle on her collarbone, and the scar on her shoulder. How did she get that scar? Was it a bike wreck? Did she fall? Did someone give it to her?

          I searched the floor for the right shade of purple. I have to get this right. Her eyes are everything. Gently, carefully I take a darker shade of her skin tone and paint the depth of her eyes, even the wrinkles and cresses around them. I take the smallest brush and dip it in the cream paint. Slowly I feel in the cream color, leaving a perfect circle for the irises. I dip into black making her eyelashes and pupils. Then, I take my violet and color in the eyes. I take a darker shade and add on to the color. I do the same with the lighter shade, until finally; I have the two perfect shades of purple.

          I step back, smiling. She is beautiful. I skim the perfect features of her face. The portrait is identical. I rub the sweat off my forehead, smearing paint all over my face. I slowly walk back towards the stairs, not wanting to leave the painting, and wishing I could reach out and touch her.

****

Anger suppresses me as I walk towards my dorm. How dare he tell me what to do! I can be with whom ever I wish. I huff before receiving the door handle and pushing it open. I smile at what I see. Matt is seated on my bed legs extended in front of him. In his hands he holds two DVDs and two bottles of beer. I laugh before shutting the door and locking it.

"How did you get in here?" I say taking off my shoes and jacket. Matt was shirtless, a thin line of muscle covering him. He had on Spiderman boxer briefs and black shocks.

"Well, I turned the door knob and used these two magical things called feet!" I laughed before walking and taking a seat beside him. I moved the wet hair from his sparkling eyes.

"Where's Jessica?" I couldn't help how beautiful he was. Almost fragile, and a small part of me wanted him to make Dean jealous. I lay down beside him resting my head on his shoulder.

"Well, she's staying with her friend Emilie for the night so I thought maybe we could have a sleep over." His fingers brushed my arms.

"In your Spiderman underwear?" He laughed, before turning over on top of me.

"Well Betsy I know your just dying to rip them off of me." A shutter of fear entered me. I didn't want this. "But too bad I don't know you well enough to do that yet." He winked before bending down to kiss my check. Relief flooded me. Ray did say he was a virgin, and I knew he could defiantly get any girl he wanted; maybe he really didn't want to have sex.

I smiled up at him and shoved him with the palm of my hand. "Then why are you naked in my bed?" He blinked at me.

"I opened the door and your friend Jessica dumped water all over me. I'm letting them air dry."

I couldn't hold back my laugh. Maybe not all guys are bad.