In Hate With You [mlm]

the thirteenth happening

It isn't very often that I have chance to lose myself in painting. Ever since I started teaching, art has taken a backseat.

Ady is sat beside me, occupied with her own painting. The other students left almost an hour ago; Dante is working late again.

On my canvas, the brushes move without my control; sweeping, and curling, and flowing. A picture begins to take shape - dark brown eyes, shadowed by long eyelashes, surrounded by tanned skin.

I swallow, adoring the soft colours of the eye as they blend together. Amber grows into hazelnut, and dark cocoa. Light splinters through the pupil; cracking almost perfect darkness in two. My breath catches in my throat as I take a step back to examine my work.

"Why aren't you an artist, James?" Ady pipes up, her eyes filled with wonder and curiosity.

For a moment, I struggle to find an answer, still lost inside the world of colours and shapes.

"Sometimes dreams don't work out," I tell her, chewing at my lip.

She nods knowledgeably, and turns back to her own artwork. "Daddy's dream didn't work out either." Her comment buries itself in my head, and I flick my gaze to her, sharply.

"What was Daddy's dream?" I try to keep my voice light, but there is something heavy buried beneath her words.

She meets my eyes, that spark of curiosity lingering in her expression.

"Mummy wouldn't tell me," she says. I blink in surprise. "She said it didn't matter now, because I was Daddy's new dream."

"Oh." Disappointment clouds my chest, and I'm not sure why. A frown draws lines on her forehead. "I'm sure you are Daddy's new dream, and his happy-ever-after," I reassure her hurriedly.

She smiles at me, and all of my concerns about Dante fade from my mind. I look over her shoulder at what she's painting. A pair of angel wings curl across her page, the outline filled in with all the colours of the rainbow.

"That looks amazing," I compliment her, and she grins, delighted. "Much better job than I could've done." Her smile turns teasing.

"You're lying," she tells me, pointing at my painting. "You can paint like that, and you drew the outline for my wings, anyway."

"Nope. I would never have done it as good as you have," I insist. She shoots me a look of disbelief, but my face is straight, my expression schooled.

With a sigh, she turns back to her painting. Her brush is soaked in indigo-blue paint, and it mixes with the fine layer of purple around spreading across one wing. A swirl of colour forms, and pride warms my heart.

My painting beckons, and once again, I lose myself in the rich colours staining the skin of my canvas.

"James?" Ady asks, a few minutes later.

"Yes?" I reply, absentmindedly sweeping my brush across the background of my painting.

"What's a date?" I pause, glancing at her. She's still engrossed in her painting, her question filled with innocence.

"A date, as in the tenth of April?" She fixes me with a deadpan look. "Or...a fruit?" I add, shrugging helplessly.

"I know it's a fruit," she informs me. "But Daddy said he wanted to ask somebody on a date. What's that date?"

My chest tightens, as unwanted feelings cramp my muscles. The kisses we shared over the last few weeks flit through my mind, and I flinch at the memories. He didn't seem like the kind of guy to cheat on me, but then again, there was that incident in the elevator...

"James?" She repeats, raising an eyebrow at me. She does that a lot, and I find it's often aimed at me.

"Sorry, sorry." I suck in a deep breath. "Asking somebody on a date is when you ask somebody to come to dinner with you, or to watch a movie," I explain, and her eyes brighten.

"Like when my friends watch a film with me?" She clarifies, and I shake my head, hesitantly.

"No, um, you do it when you like somebody a lot and you want to...kiss them," I wince, my cheeks colouring.

Her eyes widen, "So Daddy is asking you on a date because you kiss?" I drop my paintbrush, and it smears a small mark of (luckily) white paint across the corner of my canvas.

"What?" I exclaim, before clapping a hand over my mouth.

"That was loud," she giggles.

"Your Daddy is asking me on a date?" She stares at me, and then murmurs a small 'oops'. Relief rushes through me, and my blood starts to sing.

"I wasn't supposed to tell you," she says in a small voice, her eyes tearing up.

"Hey, hey, don't cry." I slip my hand into her's. "I'll act surprised, I promise."

She gives me a watery smile, and I wrap my arms around her gently. Once more, we move back into the rhythm of painting. I fix the marks left by my shock, and she laughs at me when I paint the table white by tipping over a pot of paint.

We fall into silence, the only sound the touch of paintbrush on paper and the occasional swish of water.

Until a door opens behind me, and I jump out of my skin. Dante's friend - Luke? Lee? - is stood in the doorway, Dante a shadow behind him. Panic smothers me as I remember what I'm painting.

Alarmed, I tug my painting off the table and take it to the drying rack with Ady's, as she runs to hug her father and his friend.

"Hello, Ady!" The man in front cheers, stepping into the room.

"Uncle Luca!" She squeals, her arms still wrapped around him. Right, that's his name.

When I turn around, Ady and Luca are swaying, his arms wrapped around her. His eyes meet mine, recognition flashing across his gaze.

"Hello, feisty," he smirks. "Didn't know you were Ady's teacher."

Dante frowns at him, opening his mouth to speak, but Ady defends me first.

"Hey!" She hits him on the arm, and he diverts his attention to her, surprised. "James is my friend."

"Sorry, Ady," he apologizes, before turning to Dante. "He's on first name basis with your daughter?" Dante flushes with colour as Luca casts him an interested look.

He hisses something at Luca, and Ady glares at them both.

Ignoring them, I busy myself with tidying up; wiping down the tables, stacking the paints in the corner of the room, collecting together my marking. My bike helmet slips into the corner of my eye, and I groan at the thought of cycling home this late.

Behind me, I can hear them murmuring to each other, and Ady sometimes joining in. Then, footsteps leave the classroom, and I can hear Ady's voice echoing from down the corridor.

"James?" Dante's voice is hesitant, even as the room falls silent.

"Yes?" I turn to him, my eyes meeting his. He's fiddling with the silver ring on his finger, light flashing over his skin.

"I'm sorry about my brother," he waves at the door casually, but his jaw is clenched; his muscles tight. "He's a bit much sometimes."

"It's okay," I tell him, picking up a stack of books and putting them in the bag by my desk.

I look at him in time to see him swallow, pink staining the tips of his ears. A small smirk tugs one side of my lips up.

"Um, so, I wanted to ask you something." He nibbles at his lower lip, and I eye his movement.

"Yeah?" I ask, my mind drifting back to the touch of his lips against mine, how soft they felt; how sweet he tasted.

"Will you go on a- on a date with me?" He watches me carefully, his eyes guarded.

A grin spreads across my face, and I step towards him. Once I reach him, I pull him into a hug, pressing a kiss to his cheek.

"I'd love to." Happiness leaps in his eyes, but he frowns at me. Crap, I was supposed to look surprised.

"James-"

"Don't get mad at her, but Ady told me," I admit, the words all rushing into one.

He tightens his hold on me, kissing me gently.

"I thought she would," he says, a smile dancing across his lips. "Once she overheard, I knew I had to do it as soon as possible."

I laugh, burying my head in his shoulder. His chuckles vibrate against my skin, sending shivers down my spine.

"Would you like a lift home?" He murmurs, eyeing the bike helmet on my desk.

"I was hoping you'd ask that."