Total pages in book: 56
Estimated words: 54103 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 271(@200wpm)___ 216(@250wpm)___ 180(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 54103 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 271(@200wpm)___ 216(@250wpm)___ 180(@300wpm)
I pull out her chair. She looks down, then smiles and sits. When I push her in, her back presses against my hands, where I grip the chair. A simple, possibly innocent gesture.
But I feel it. And so does she. She emits a soft moan. I softly rest my hand on her shoulder.
"I didn't say I wanted you to do that," she whispers, breathless and alluring.
"You didn't need to," I growl.
"Nico..."
I move to the edge of the table, leaning down until our eyes meet. With a smile, I say, "I'm almost tempted to simply kiss you so we can dispel this tension."
She laughs quietly. "I understand the sentiment."
I move toward her, grazing her lips for the briefest moment, not quite a kiss, almost a kiss. But she abruptly withdraws. My mother enters the kitchen. I straighten up.
Either my mother didn't notice or was pretending not to. My heart pounds. Sienna wraps her arms around herself. We're likely sharing the same thought. How did that nearly happen so effortlessly? Wanting a genuine relationship with her is complicated, wrong. It's impossible, given her animosity and my position.
But desiring her is another matter entirely. My body harbors no confusion. Every fiber of my being hungers to claim every inch of her.
"I had a little preview," Mom says, joining Sienna at the table. "Exceptional work. I'm eager to see what you accomplish with paints."
"That's where I've been experimenting with my surrealist concepts."
"Your... portmanteau?"
"Yes," Sienna confirms. "Incorporating elements from different paintings and transforming them into one entity... and many entities. Not to sound pretentious."
"It doesn't sound pretentious," I assure her.
She smiles at me briefly, then blows on her coffee.
"Just like life," Mother observes. "You take certain elements from various sources and hope everything fits together... that it becomes coherent, allowing you to relinquish control and embrace happiness."
Sienna stares at my mother for several moments. "Live in the moment, you mean?"
"What makes you say that?"
"The only way to find happiness when aspects of your painting cause misery is to live in the moment. Letting go essentially means forgetting. Or ignoring."
"Is that such a bad thing?"
They're discussing more than painting. Mother's subtly encouraging Sienna to embrace the present... as if the moment won't inevitably shatter around us.
"Sooner or later, it has to end," Sienna says.
"You're young, dear. You needn't concern yourself with that."
"I'm not concerned about anything beyond my work," Sienna replies.
Mom gestures toward me. I'm leaning against the counter as though overseeing a board meeting. "Take my son. He presents as a stern businessman, yet you've captured the playfulness within him. A different dimension... without the severity."
"It began as stern," Sienna admits, studying me. "Because that's your default expression, sorry to tell you. But then you smirked and... well..." She shrugs. "I thought it suited you better. So I reworked it."
"You portrayed me as someone who knows how to have fun."
She flashes me a grin. She's an enigma I desperately want to solve. One moment melancholic, the next radiant. She allows all facets of her painting to flow through her. I remain perpetually the Don. Regardless of location or circumstance. Except with her.
"So, you don't, then?" she challenges. "Know how to have fun?"
"I'll have you know I am the champion of Greens and Gravy."
She laughs. "Greens and Gravy? I’ve never heard of it."
"You are missing out," I tell her. "They boast the finest mini golf this side of Fort Worth, and the most exquisite gravy nationwide."
"The gravy is absolutely divine," Mother confirms.
"You hold the record?" Sienna asks, her smile lingering.
"He's not exaggerating," Mother says. "We used to take the boys there regularly. Nico’s maintained the record for..."
I puff my chest proudly, eliciting another laugh from Sienna. "Twenty-eight years."
"What?"
"He achieved four holes-in-one."
"This sounds like the origin story of some megalomaniacal dictator. Next, you'll claim you can walk on water."
"That was going to be my next trick."
Another laugh. "Yet you haven't surpassed your own record. How disappointing."
"I remain in contention, Sienna."
"Perhaps I'll challenge you someday."
"What about right now?" I propose stepping forward. "If you think you possess the skill."
Sienna chews on the inside of her cheek contemplatively. She glances at Mother. "I suppose he could drive me home instead?"
My mother appears caught off-guard... but unmistakably delighted. She looks proud too, as if attributing this development to her discourse on aspects.
Sienna turns to me. "Alright, I suppose I can unwind... for one night."
One night.
She emphasizes those words deliberately. She wants me to understand this can never evolve into something permanent. It's merely amusement. We'll ignore all other aspects, the background hues in our painting.
Chapter Ten
Sienna
Dallas has never seemed so distant. Through Nico's car windows, the city appears remote. I clutch Mom's pendant so tightly it bites into my palm, the cold metal reminding me how inappropriate this is. Yet I'm conflicted, knowing Mom would be thrilled if she knew I was dating an older man.