How To Love ✓

15.

Amara

Lucien pulled into a driveway in front of a small building and cut off the engine. He faced me and I did the same.

"What is this place?" I asked. He only smiled and opened the car door. Stepping out, he came over to my side and helped me out. I thanked him graciously and followed his lead. We walked over to this big gate at the left side of the building. He fished out the keys and turned it open in the lock, pushing the door wide open to reveal a dark space. He felt around the wall for a light switch and flicked it on.

 "My art studio."

I took immense amount of time studying the paintings that hung on the walls and the intricate sketches that were on different canvases. Each piece had its own meaning. A picture may be worth a thousand words, but unless you can articulately describe it, the average person wouldn't understand the context. These descriptions tell the average person more about their piece.

"These are so intricate," I let my fingers glide across the collage of a waterfall and stared in awe.

"My parents, before they got divorced, bought this place for me as a start of my adult life. A fresh start, a clean slate. When they got divorced, I pleaded to stay behind in France to look after mi madre (my mother in Spanish). However, they both knew that mi padre (my father in Spanish) had the money and the charm to get me accepted in college halfway in the semester. So, I accepted defeat and moved here with him," he said lowly, and I walked a little closer to him.

"Do you and your dad have a good relationship?" I asked, a bit curious. He's opening up to me and I'm super happy that he found some sort of comfort in me. Though, I wouldn't push him to tell me things he doesn't want to. 

Just a little patience and we'll be just fine.

He looked at me, really looked at me. "Our relationship disappeared the minute he laid his hand on me and my mother."

I gasped. I was more afraid of breaking down his walls than before. I wasn't sure what to say knowing very well that whenever he brought up something from his past, he doesn't want too many questions to follow. So, I steadied my ground for now and decided on changing the subject.

"I'm sorry. I know I shouldn't be apologising.... but I am truly sorry. I'm sorry for not being there for you since we met. I am now though," I spoke quietly but good enough for him to hear me. I knew my response was a bit confusing, but I wanted him to know that I was there for him, no matter what. If no one wanted to be there for him, I would've done everything in my power to be, as best as I could.

"Your apology is unwanted, and you are the first person to ever do that. I'm-I'm shook, but I appreciate the fact that you care about me, when I don't deserve it," he said.

He motioned for me to sit behind an empty canvas, and I followed suit. "What's your level of art?" he asked while fumbling amongst some paint brushes and drawing pencils on a table.

"I'm good up to people," I muttered, making him turn towards me. "So, you can't do sceneries?"

"I've never really tried to be honest so I really can't say," I answered honestly, and he nodded again.

The glint of anger mixed with sadness was prominent in his green eyes and I knew that I was one step closer in believing that he was leaning into me.

"I still can't believe this whole place is yours. If I ever ask for something like this is the first thing my mother would say is 'think about the money'." I got up to take a look around the beautifully designed place once more, one in particular caught my attention longer than the rest. A portrait of a woman staring at the sky, her dark chocolate hair blowing in the direction of the wind, her eyes closed in comfort as if the wind made a melodic sound, the birds chirping to create lyrics. Still life, but I felt this piece in a thousand ways.

"Mi madre" he let the words roll off his tongue and I slightly jump as he was right behind me. So close that I felt his chest against my upper back. "She must be so beautiful in real life. Because I think that's where you got your beauty from," I whispered.

My goosebumps arose as he passed his hands along my upper arms. I kept asking myself why my body reacted the way it does when around him, but I could never come up with a logical explanation. "What do you do to me Amara?"

"What?" I choked out, too nervous to say more. He twirled me around, making the oxygen tank clank against his boots and trailed a finger to outline my lips.

"The things I would teach your pretty little mouth to do on me. So innocent, so pure, yet so much fire."

I looked into his eyes and saw his pupils dilate. I wrapped my arms around his neck and tried to forget about the dirty thoughts.

"I thought we couldn't be friends?" my lips quivered with every word.

He smirked and placed both hands on my waist. "The way we react to each other makes it even harder for us to be just friends Amara Belle." He moved his wet lips to my neck and does wonders to the skin.

My breath hitched the moment his tongue grazed the skin of my neck. I tugged on his hair and thought that I was about to explode with him only kissing my neck.

"Your body responds to me Amara and I don't think you could ever resist me any longer," he growled and attached our mouths together.

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