Her
Calm.
All I could feel now was calm.
Stroking the brush to the blue color from the palette and painted the canvas. I looked to the front of me again, watching the sea, water was splashing, lots of kids were running, chasing each other, the beautiful and soothing white sand.
Everything was perfect.
This what I liked to do.
Painting.
I found my peace through painting, nothing else mattered. Only painting able to make me forget the real world. At least I could forget about it even if it was just for a little.
I came from a small city in Alaska, Homer. It was not as big as Los Angeles and not as glamor but I loved it here. It neared the ocean. I remembered the sea back at home, it was so beautiful.
I was currently having a term-break and I used this chance to paint as many as I could. Since I was small, painting was my everything. My mother died when I was three and I was raised by my father who was so protective of me, even until now. Maybe it was normal for him since I was the only girl and the only child in the family. So, when I decided I wanted to enroll at the University of Southern California to pursue my dream of becoming an artist and one day to open my art museum, he was shocked. He wanted me to pursued the dream for my mother’s sake yet he was worried because I was going to a big city.
But I had decided and my father allowed me to go. I was hoping people would come to love my paints. I never intended to sell my arts. I didn’t know where this came from but I never bothered with money although my family was not that rich and not that poor either. My father always taught me to not ever think that money was my everything.
I had seen some people fell to the bottom of the darkness because of money. People intended to do everything to make sure they were rich and had a secure future. Even by doing evil stuff to the point of killing someone else.
In this big city, everything was so expensive and pretty. I had to be honest with myself when I arrived here on my first day, I was scared. People were rather scary and ignorant. I didn’t know whether I looked weird or they just refused to talk with strangers. But they were pretty rude.
I was too preoccupied with my mind and when I blinked and looked back to the front, someone was standing there. A man, with his back facing me while he was looking straight to the sea. He was wearing a dark blue jacket and he was very tall. I was staring at his back and thought that his back…was beautiful. And with his current position, it suited the paint perfectly.
I immediately drew the man standing with his back facing me. My eyes switched from the man to my canvas. My painting always told a story. I thought I was just going to paint the usual landscape. But when this man appeared before me, I decided to change the theme. While I was drawing his figure, I had no idea why but by looking towards his back, he looked…lonely. He was sad like he just lost something. With his down shoulders, like he was mourning something. I didn’t know what he just lost but I hoped that man would stand up once again because a bright future was waiting for him.
I finished the paint as I smiled, satisfied with the result. The man matched perfectly with the paint. The sad and lonely man at the beach, that could be the title of this paint. I looked forward again and dropped my smile. Accidentally loosened my hold on the brush and I thought my heart just stopped.
This couldn’t be happening.
I was trying to forget everything. Painting was supposed to be my saver. But not anymore. Not with him. He was one of the things I wanted to forget. The night we had together was a mistake. I thought we wouldn’t meet again. It had been almost a year and there he was…
My brown-eyed devil.
***
Him
I came to this beach for one purpose only; I wanted to let go of everything.
I had no place in her heart anymore.
A year almost passed yet she always managed to slip into my mind and heart. Fucking someone was useless, I couldn’t get rid of her. I was happy seeing her smiled but my heart was hurting. I always hoped she would be my last and the one who could save my dark soul.
But she couldn’t.
She was not the one and I thought…I couldn’t love again. Or maybe I didn’t want to anymore. I should have known; love was useless and just an illusion.
I was about to go home but stopped when I turned around and saw a lady behind a large canvas, painting something with her eyes set on me and to the canvas. Was she drawing me? But the more I looked at her, I thought I recognized her. Her face was familiar. So, when she looked like she had finished the painting and turned her eyes on me, she lost her smile but I smirked.
Oh, I remembered her. The lost girl I tasted before. The innocent girl who was not so innocent anymore. Because I stole it that night. She might try to fool me but she picked the wrong person. I immediately knew she was a virgin that night just by her smell. Fuck, maybe I was indeed a pervert.
I walked slowly towards her. She was paralyzed in place with her eyes never left me. She was expecting me. I was about to capture her once again.
I remembered the night we had together. With her under me. Her beautiful brunette hair spread on the soft pillow. Her watery emerald green eyes were staring at me softly and sweetly. Her stunning body with pinkish skin. Everything was perfect about her. Ah, fuck me. How the fuck I remembered everything? I never paid attention to the woman I fucked. I didn’t even look at their eyes while fucking them. I didn’t whisper sweet words. I didn’t cuddle. But she was the only one, my one-night stand who I allowed seeing my face when I was fucking her.
I stopped behind her canvas as her round green eyes were directed at me. “Been a long time,” I said. “Do you remember me?” She didn’t answer but her reaction spoke volume.
She remembered me.
I never expected to see her again as well as her. Even I remembered her voice being this soft and gentle-like. Such an innocent creature who should stay in the Eden while I remained in Hell.
“Were you painting me on your canvas?” I asked and she blinked. “Can I see it?” She responded by nodding her head. Why she didn’t want to talk to me? Oh, well. I walked to her side and saw her canvas.
Me standing with my back facing her while watching the sea.
It was a beautiful piece. I didn’t understand art but her paint was pretty. I lowered my eyes and saw the handwritten below stating: The sad and lonely man at the beach.
I scoffed softly. “Why do you think I was sad, sweetheart?”
“It’s just a feeling,” she replied. Finally, she opened her mouth. “You look like you’re sad about something.” And it happened again.
The night I fucked her; I saw something through her eyes. Her gazes were a dangerous thing to me. This girl might not realize it but she was capable to see through my heart it was not a place for her. My heart was filled with darkness and dirty stuff. But I had this voice telling me that I shouldn’t leave this girl alone. I had to get to know her.
“Do you like painting me?”
“Yes.”
“Do you want to…keep painting me?”
She looked to her side. “I would like to. You inspired some ideas in my mind.”
I smirked. “That’s interesting. You saw me as your muse. Are you a student?” She nodded her head again. “You’re pretty quiet, aren’t you? I remembered that night you were much sonant.” Her cheeks reddened. That was cute. “In conclusion, you need me for your project. Well, I can help you.”
“What?”
“I’m busy with a lot of stuff but I could squeeze you in my schedule.”
“I don’t—”
“Give me your phone,” I cut her words and she stopped. Staring at me, again, accidentally trying to read me. I blinked my eyes away but raised my hand to her. “I say, give me your phone.” She reached down and saw her grabbing her poor yellow backpack. “Don’t you have other bags?” But she didn’t respond. Was she that poor?
The girl gave me the phone and I typed in my number and gave the phone back. “By the way, we should introduce ourselves because maybe…we will meet each other again,” I said and extended my hand to her. “Name’s Javier Ronan. And you?”
She reached out her hand and gently shook my hand. “Celestine. Celestine Harper.”
Celestine.
Such a beautiful name. But that’s too bad.
“Nice to meet you, Celestine.”
Because Little Piglet, I’d caught you.