Devin

 

Devin walked quickly into the restrooms at the end of the gallery, avoiding the advances of all several people who had hoped to chat as he passed by them. He entered a stall and locked the door behind him. Inside, he remained standing, placing his hands on the shut door and breathing deeply.

 

He wasn’t quite sure why his heart was racing. And why he was so embarrassed by telling Camille the truth about the charity. There was nothing wrong with donating to a charity, in fact, he was certain that Camille’s kind heart would be impressed by it. And yet, he didn’t want to tell her, not yet.

 

Devin pressed his eyes tightly shut and tried to regain an even breath. He donated to the Association of No-Kill Dogs, a charitable organization run by a small team of dog lovers who tried to home and re-home dogs left at pounds who were about to be put down. There was nothing wrong with the charity, but he slowly realized why he was so afraid of telling Camille about it - she would have questions, and he was not ready yet to tell her about his life, and explain why he had such a soft spot for dogs.

 

As Devin’s eyes remained closed, an image of his father floated in his head. Devin gritted his teeth. His emotions for his father were mixed. He respected the man and valued the hard lessons that he taught him as a child, which allowed Devin to become the person he was now. But there were also parts of the man Devin could never figure out.

 

At their farm in Pennsylvania, a pair of dogs had wandered onto the property, and Devin had watched his father shoot them right between their eyes with his old shotgun before dragging the limp bodies into the shed and burying them.

 

His father had grunted an explanation when Devin had asked him why he shot the dogs.

 

“They trouble the sheep,” his father had said, paying no heed to the torn emotions of his seven-year-old son. Devin had never asked again or tried to stop his father. The man was bigger, stronger, and had the strength of his convictions. But at that moment, Devin had decided that he would do everything he could, when he grew up, to save the dogs, and try and atone for his father’s cold-hearted sins.

 

Yet Devin loved his father, even though he witnessed his mother’s misery. Even though he saw every day that his mother suffered because she felt unloved, yearning for her husband’s touch and affection. But his father worked tirelessly on the land, returning home only for his dinner and for the warmth of the bed at night, while his mother waited on him.

 

They were both gone now, and Devin could never be entirely certain if he were anything like either of them. Well, he was definitely not like his mother, soft spoken, obedient, and entirely devoted to a husband who had never even so much as touched her hand after Devin was born. But was he like his father? Did he only care about his own success? Only about work? Was his heart made of steel?

 

Devin shook his head and opened his eyes, and stared at the locked door of the bathroom stall. Was that why he liked dogs and animals more than people? Because, like his father, he could never get close to any human being?

 

The faces of women he had slept with then floated up in front of his eyes. All the women who had thrown themselves at him, who he had spent only a night with, and the ones he had pushed away. So he was exactly like his father, Devin admitted to himself in the silence and the dim light of the restroom. Was he going to hurt Camille? Would Camille, like his mother, remain silent and suffering all her life with a man who couldn’t show her affection?

 

Devin hit the door with the base of his palm. He wasn’t sure why he was so angry. Nothing had happened. He had simply frozen when Camille asked him about the charity. He could tell her if he wanted to, and perhaps she would think nothing of it. But a part of him wanted to explain, a part of him told him that he owed her an explanation; to warn her what she might be getting herself into and that she might be better off staying away from him.

 

The dogs that his father had killed and all the dogs that his donated money helped protect were symbols. They were symbols of the burden of being his father’s son. Devin was who he was because of the lessons his father had taught him. Was it in his nature, therefore, to not be able to love wholeheartedly? To not love a good woman?

 

Devin unlocked the stall door and walked out towards the mirrors that lined the back wall of the restroom. He splashed his face with cold water and enjoyed the tingling sensation of the drops evaporating from his face.

 

Despite all the demons of his past that he was fighting against, the one thing he was sure of was that he wanted to be with Camille again. He wanted to see her face, watch her blue eyes smile, and her blonde curls shake with her innocent laughter. It was getting harder for him to stay away from her; even a few minutes felt like a lifetime. So he did what his father would never have done, he walked back into the gallery and looked around until he found her standing alone underneath a photograph, admiring it with her sad, sullen eyes.

 

“What are you thinking?” he asked as he walked up behind her, and traced the curve of her neck with his forefinger. He could feel the goosebumps appear on her flesh under his fingertip.

 

Camille turned to him, her cheeks blushing. He had caught her thinking about him.

 

“I was admiring your picture - how calm and satisfied you look. Evangeline does a good job of capturing you in your best moments,” Camille said and reached for his face. He hadn’t expected her to; he had expected her to be shy around him, to blush and look away, but there was a sudden conviction in her voice and bravery on her face. She was not going to back down.

 

He remembered the way her body felt, how small and gentle she was, and how her breasts were big and voluptuous in his hands. He could feel himself stir just from the way she was looking intently at him.

 

“I think I’m an open book. I’m easy to read,” Devin replied, as she pulled her hand away, but kept her gaze on his face. Camille smiled and then laughed, and Devin felt like he was falling deeper in love with her. She had forgotten and forgiven his behavior when she had asked him about the charity. He appreciated it; she wasn’t pushy.

 

“You’re anything but easy to read, Devin Rock,” Camille said in a soft, seductive voice and she leaned in towards him. Devin smiled and dug his hands into the pockets of his jeans. He could spend the whole night just staring at her face.

 

“But I could give it a shot,” Camille added with one raised eyebrow, and Devin looked at her face, confused. He couldn’t quite understand what she meant by that.

 

“I could try and draw you, and see if I can capture you for yourself,” she explained, and Devin sighed. He hadn’t expected that from her either. Until now, Camille had been so protective of her art; the last thing he expected was for her to offer to draw him. But Devin was flattered, excited, and wanted to see her in her element.

 

“Are you serious?” He was unable to keep the excitement out of his voice. Camille laughed again, this time more sweetly, and then she nodded excitedly too.

 

“It could be fun. I haven’t done a live portrait before. Who knows, maybe we could both learn something new.”

 

They both looked at each other, and Devin watched as she licked her lips.

 

“Tonight? So that you don’t change your mind later,” he asked, and Camille shrugged her shoulders.

 

“Sure, if you’re not busy,” she said, and it was Devin’s turn to laugh. She was testing him, and he liked it.

 

“We can go back to my place together, and you can find a spot for us to sit and work together.” He grabbed her hand, pulling her close to him. He hadn’t thought this through, just minutes ago when he was in the restroom, he wasn’t sure if he should drag Camille into his life; if she deserved to be hurt and put in harm’s way. But now he was inviting her to his place, plunging her deeper into his life. But Devin couldn’t help himself; he couldn’t resist Camille, not when she looked like this.

 

“I can see Shayna has found herself a ride,” Camille’s words interrupted his thoughts, and he followed her gaze. They watched Shayna together. She was standing with a drink in her hand in the corner, laughing loudly as a man leaned into her ear saying something.

 

“We can always drop her home first if she needs a ride,” Devin suggested, but Camille shook her head.

 

“I’ll go and ask her, don’t go anywhere.” She slipped her hand away from his and walking towards Shayna. She turned once to look back at him and smile, and Devin felt like he already missed her.

 

He could watch her talking to Shayna, laughing, looking over to him… and yet he felt like she was far away. He wanted to reach for her and drag her back to him. He couldn’t understand it: what this hold was that she had on him. He could have any woman he wanted, he could fuck anybody, and yet all he wanted to do was hold Camille’s hand.

 

She had started to walk towards him again, and they were both smiling at each other. Groups of people got in her way, and she had to walk around them until she was finally only a few feet away. Devin couldn’t wait, he took a few long strides and then he was kissing her.

 

His hand traveled to her waist, and he pushed her back as he held her close to his chest. Camille kissed him, but he could feel her lips stretched in a smile. Could she be just as happy as he was? Was it too quick to be this happy and comfortable in each other’s presence? Didn’t she detest him for bringing the Choppers to her store? Wasn’t she afraid of his lifestyle? And jealous of his naked pictures on display?

 

Devin breathed in her scent when they parted. Camille had her hands firmly planted on his arms for support and a smile on her face.

 

“Take me home, Devin, I can’t wait to draw you,” she uttered, and Devin straightened up.

 

“I can’t promise you artist’s material, but I can give you a pencil and a notebook to get started,” he replied, smoothing out his jacket.

 

“That’s all I’ll need tonight,” Camille told him, and before he knew it, she was leading the way out of the gallery.