Brant
“This doesn’t exactly work that way, babe.” I snort and shake my head. “Inspiration is either there or it isn’t. And at the moment,” I throw my hands up in frustration. “It’s not there.”
Abby leans back and sits on her haunches. Her hand is no longer touching me but is now nestled in her lap. She looks down and bites her lip, giving a tiny shrug. I wonder for a moment if I offended her by throwing her advice back in her face but I’ve heard that my whole life. Just work harder. How much harder can I work at this?
I’m about to apologize when she gets up and stands in front of my phone’s docking station looking mildly confused. She taps at a few buttons before she gives up. Looking at me she gestures at it and places her hands over her ears to block the music coming from the speakers.
I get up and reach from behind her to turn the music off but once it’s turned off I don’t move away. My chest is only an inch from her back and I feel her hair brush against my skin when she shrugs. “Is there a reason you don’t have any inspiration?”
“Yes.”
She spins around but misjudges our distance and stumbles back slightly when she’s surprised by how close I am. I reach out a hand to grab her forearm and steady her. She lets out a tiny noise in shock but quickly recovers.
“Problem solved then,” she replies, looking pretty smug. “If you know what the problem is then you only have to find the solution. What’s blocking your inspiration?”
The corner of my lip turns up in a smirk as I take her palm and place it on my chest. She lets out a little gasp as her hand makes contact with my sweaty, paint covered skin. I’m being a bastard but getting a reaction from her is my new favorite game to play. I bend my head down and lean a little closer before I whisper: “Sex.”
She’s blinking at her hand on my chest and it takes a while for the word to register. Her eyes shoot up to mine, a crease between her eyebrows. “What?”
“Sex, Abby, I haven’t been having any.” I say as my hand gives hers a light squeeze. “You know, sex. Banging, bumping uglies, going balls deep, doing the nasty. A hot, passionate, make-you-scream-my-name, good old fashioned fucking.”
Her shoulders square and I can see those guards around her standing at attention. “I know what sex is.” She huffs and tries to pull her hand away. Not this time, baby.
I tighten my hold on her and take one tiny step forward. “Have you had that kind of sex, babe?” My voice comes out rougher than intended.
“I’ve had sex.” She says triumphantly managing to pull her hand from mine. “And that’s ridiculous. Sex is not that great and basing your work around it is illogical.” She finishes by crossing her arms over her chest and taking a step back.
“You must not be having the right kind of sex then.” I wiggle my eyebrows at her and smile.
“I’m not having sex. It was only the one time and it hurt. Whatever,” She waves her hand in front of her face like she’s trying to clear the words she said from the room. “You should clean this place up. We won’t get our deposit back if there’s paint stuck to all the walls and floors.”
I chuckle to myself as I look down at the mess I created. I bend down to start picking up the paintbrushes at my feet but look up again when I notice she hasn’t left my room. She’s staring at one of the discarded paintings closest to the door. I watch her for a couple seconds staring at the painting completely entranced.
“You like that one?” I walk closer to her and stand at her back. She makes a non-committal sound, I’m not even sure she knows she did it. My hand reaches for a strand of hair spilling over her shoulder and I pull it back to expose her neck. “You can have it if you want.” I whisper.
That snaps her out of it and I can feel her body stiffen. “I don’t like art. It makes no sense. And I definitely don’t want one of your… your sex paintings.”
I debate whether to tell her the truth but decide against it instead. “You’re late.” I murmur under my breath.
“Excuse me?
“You’re late tonight. I made dinner but you weren’t here. Your plate is in the oven if you’re hungry.” I go back to clearing up the place, deciding that I pushed her buttons enough for one day. Not that those are the buttons I want to be pushing. “You frown a lot.” I say offhandedly.
“How do you know I’m frowning, you’re not even looking at me.” I look at her, frown firmly in place. I only smirk and shrug. “I had a late tutoring session.”
Now it’s my turn to frown. Looking at my watch I see it’s already past ten. “At this time of night?”
“Yes, it’s the only time the student has available.”
“Tell me next time this happens. I don’t like you walking around campus at night. I’ll pick you up from wherever. Anytime.”
She chews the inside of her cheek, considering my offer. “Ok, thank you.”
I shake my head and turn to pick up the canvas I ruined. “I’m going out to meet a friend tonight. I won’t be home ‘til late.”
“For inspiration?”
Her question stops me in my tracks and I look up to meet her eyes. I take stock of her guarded stance and her expectant face. “Maybe.”
She huffs and turns around. “Well I’m going to eat dinner in my room and study.”
“And Abby?” I call to her before she can leave the room. “Sex isn’t supposed to hurt.” I say in a hushed tone. “The right kind of sex can end wars.”
She doesn’t respond makes a hasty exit. I stare at the empty doorway for a beat before I make my way to the bathroom. I need to get myself cleaned up too.
Once back in my bedroom I stop short at the painting she was staring at earlier. Making my decision I scribble something on a journal page and tear it out. I grab the painting and leave it, and the note quietly outside her door before leaving the apartment.