Page 23 of Devil’s Escape
With that dark turn of thought, I cleared my throat, letting my hand slip away from his to fall back limply at my side. I already missed the warm feeling of skin against mine, but I pushed that thought aside and stepped back as he pulled the door open the rest of the way, not willing to meet his eyes again just yet out of fear of what I would see there.
Because even if he felt the same, there was still Merrick, my bullheaded, stubborn, hotheaded friend, who lit the same flames of desire within me. I pushed those thoughts from my mind and stepped into the firehouse. Muted sunlight streamed in through the window highlighting all the dust drifting through the air up here. I tried not to look too closely at it and opened the door leading to the lower level, descending the stairs as fast as I could.
That was another reason why we stayed in our own little cave, the entire house was way too huge to clean. It took us long enough to dust and sweep downstairs, besides it would look way too suspicious if any of us tried to take a vacuum from any of our parents’ houses to clean all the worn carpet upstairs.
I rushed over to my favorite couch, leaping backward onto it with a big “Oomph,” when my side bag flopped down onto my lap. Kellan laughed softly as he closed the door behind him, leisurely walking down the stairs and settling onto the couch across from me. I couldn’t help but childishly stick my tongue out at him, giddy excitement bubbling up now that we were truly in our cave. “I can’t believe I actually got out of work early,” I mused, pulling my textbook from my bag along with a notebook. Exams were next week, so I needed to get a few more hours of studying done before then. Greg and Pam usually didn’t care, but this time they surprisingly let me off work early. So eager to get here, I was still clad in my work clothes, a pair of yoga pants and a simple white T-shirt, my hair pulled up into a messy bun to keep it out of my face.
“Yeah, I seriously can’t believe it either. Greg and Pam must actually care about your education.” Kellan laughed, pulling his sketchpad and pencils from his bag. Kellan’s art class he taught at the community center was canceled for today since the administrator was off sick.
“I seriously doubt that,” I groaned, flipping open my textbook to the page I left off on. “They probably just want to make sure they don’t have to deal with me for another year if I fail a class.”
“I’m sure they’d love for you to stay,” he huffed out, the pages of his books flipping as he found a spare page. “It would mean they could keep having someone else do all the work for them.”
“Mmhmm,” I hummed in agreement as I scanned the pages of my marketing textbook for important passages to write in my study notes. This was the one class this semester I really had to focus on with my reduced course load. It also was what I planned to major in at NYU. Searching for a major had been one of the easiest decisions I made. Ever since I was sixteen, I knew I wanted to get into business. Not because I was passionate about it—sure I found it interesting, but in this world money was power. People spent their whole lives in search of making more, and after seeing what happened to this town, to Greg, Pam, and all the other business owners, I knew I never wanted to be in their position. The world was set up so the rich got richer off the hard work of the working class. So I wanted a degree I could use to keep me out of this small-town life. Sure we were all answering to someone, but I would find a way to break free somehow.
“What are they going to do anyway without you there?” Kellan asked, his pencil scratching idly at the paper.
“You know them, they wouldn’t hire someone else,” I huffed out on a frustrated sigh, not wanting to think about it. They’d been laying the guilt on thick over the past few months, but I really couldn’t care less after everything they’d done. They wouldn’t hire anyone else because no one else would put up with how they treated them … or half their tips being stolen. But in a town like this, there weren’t many job opportunities.
“Well even if they did, no one could compare to you,” Kellan said, the compliment so out of the blue I couldn’t help the giggle that slipped from my lips as I glanced up at him.
An electronic snap went off just as my eyes met his, and Kellan smiled at his phone screen, the soft glow illuminating his face. Soft beams of light streamed through the small basement windows but they didn’t allow for much to filter in.
“What was that?” I asked hesitantly, my hand smoothing along my cheeks to check if I had something stuck there. That would’ve definitely been embarrassing since I hadn’t eaten for a while. I was about to scold him for not telling me sooner, but I froze when I didn’t feel anything there.
“Look.” He laughed, picking up his sketchbook and supplies to carry over and sitting beside me on the couch. He tilted the screen in my direction, and there was a picture of me on it. Not of my look of confusion, but just a second before. A goofy grin stretched across my lips, my amber eyes so full of amusement, full of adoration for the cheesy compliment he said just to brighten my day. Because that’s what Kellan did, he always made sure I had a smile on my face, and kept my head from spiraling to that deep dark place inside of myself. He was like the sunshine, undeterred from the dust and buildup on the windows, shining brightly through despite it all. Just like the ray of sunlight that brightened my face in the photo, his comment had the exact same effect.
“I look gross, my hair is still up, I barely have any makeup on,” I murmured, chewing on my bottom lip. I glanced toward those windows, my self-conscious thoughts bubbling up inside me.
Society constantly made women feel as though they had to have a full face of makeup and their hair perfectly done to be viewed as beautiful. I could see it though—what he saw in that photo to make me beautiful—but my brain was so focused on my imperfections that they seemed to overshadow the rest of me entirely. So despite his picture proving otherwise, it still made me feel uncomfortable to have that piece of myself saved forever in his phone.
His finger curled beneath my chin, gently turning me to meet his sable gaze. His eyes were tinged with concern as they met mine, frowning as he scanned over my face.
“You don’t actually believe that, do you?” he questioned, his head titling in confusion as though he was attempting to reconcile his image of me with my own.
“Yes,” I whispered. “I worked most of the morning, I’m sure I have coffee stains on my shirt, and ketchup in my hair, plus my face is all shiny,” I explained, fighting the urge to turn away from him again. It was too much to list out everything I saw wrong with myself while his face was so close to mine, his perfect jawline, plump lips, and soft eyes watching me as though he could see every single inch of me with just a look.
His finger slipped away from my chin, and I almost made a sound of protest at the loss, despite it feeling too real and raw for him to be so close. He brought the phone up for me to see again, the screen still on the photo of me.
“Do you want to know what I saw?” he asked calmly, and I nodded slightly. My stomach was tied in knots as guilt ran through me. I didn’t say it to make him pay me compliments, but I could see with his hard look that he needed to say this … and I probably needed to hear it. “Even though we were talking about Greg and Pam, I couldn’t get over how perfectly the beam of sunlight looked swathed across your face. It highlighted every single one of your beautiful features. But there was something missing …” he trailed off.
I put up a shield around my heart, in case he was about to say attraction, but I’m not sure anything would protect my heart from that blow.
“Your smile.” He laughed. I instantly relaxed, sighing a breath of relief. “Your happiness makes you glow from the inside out, matching the sunlight already bathing your skin. You are the most gorgeous, exquisite person, both inside and out. I don’t care about the makeup and neither would any real man. You look beautiful with or without it, because it’s your inner light that makes you shine so bright, Giana.” I took a deep breath, blinking away the moisture pooling in my eyes. Kellan always knew the right thing to say, like he could read every thought that crossed my mind, keeping me in the light. “It’s how you feel about yourself that makes you beautiful, this smile is the most breathtaking thing I’ve ever seen in my life,” he murmured, his thumb trailing along my bottom lip now lifted in a grin I couldn’t help from spreading across my face.
I leaned into his touch and his palm cradled my cheek tenderly. The touch that was soft and caring turned heated with each swipe of his thumb against my lip. Shivers of ecstasy went up my spine, our faces too close to each other. The touch was so teasing it made me crave the press of his lips against mine.
“I need to sketch you,” he murmured, as though it was partly to himself, and reluctantly eased away from me, his own lips quivering as his hand slid from my face. I swallowed the protest that begged to slip out, my mouth desperate to taste him, my hands itching to run over his soft skin. But I didn’t, both out of fear and admiration for the spark of passion that lit up his eyes as he opened his sketchbook, his pencil already poised between his fingers. I could see what he saw in me as I watched him. Despite how handsome and perfect I already thought he was, as the inspiration hit him—joy brightening his face as he got lost in something he loved—I understood just how much that added to his appeal, to my attraction for him.
I took a deep breath, needing some air to cool the fire blazing within me. I wanted to rip the sketch pad from his hand and let him trace his hands along my bare skin rather than sketch my photo onto the page, regardless of how incredible an artist he was and how stunning I knew it would turn out.
“I’m going to give it to you for your birthday, so you can always be reminded of how I see you,” he announced excitedly, but his lips pursed as he realized the thought slipped out. “That was meant to be a surprise.” His mouth quirked to the side in disappointment.
“Then I won’t look, not until you’re ready to give it to me,” I assured, stretching my arm out to rest across his broad shoulders. “It will still be a surprise then.”
“You’re perfect,” he whispered on a wistful sigh, immediately engrossed with his sketch again. His hand moved over the page, skillfully starting right where he left off. Keeping my hand on his shoulder, I pulled my book closer, not wanting to lose his comforting heat so soon when his words still rang in my ears.
I’m not sure how much longer he’d think that for though as I’m reminded of my eighteenth birthday drawing closer every day. It was now officially one week away, and my stomach clenched at the thought. Ever since I got that text from Tommaso, the day I thought would be full of fun and excitement, casting off the chains from my parents as we prepared for our big move, now filled me with dread. My chest tightened just thinking about the texts he’d been sending me recently. My plans to move to New York seemed to be crumbling by the minute, with each inch Tommaso kept demanding while holding the lives of my friends over my head. And I just prayed he had an ounce of decency left in him not to take too much. Because if push came to shove, I would give into anything he demanded if it kept Kellan and Merrick safe.