Page 47 of My End

“You painted me the first day we met?” I asked.

She nodded and twisted her fingers nervously. “Yup. Things get stuck in my head, and they demand I paint them.”

“And me…” I didn’t even know what to say. My throat felt thick.

“Do you like it?” she asked.

“It’s fucking amazing, Tilly. I don’t even know what to say.” I turned toward her. “This is what you’ve been doing? When you’ve been holed up?”

She nodded with a smile on her lips. “Yeah. Adam wasn’t kidding when he said that when I’m painting, that’s all I can see.”

Goddamn. She had more talent in her little pinky than I had in my entire body.

I moved slowly around the room and took in the rest of the paintings.

“You did all of this?” I asked, stunned.

Tilly laughed and brushed a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “Yup. I don’t really let anyone in here, so… it’s all me.”

The portraits varied; some were animals, abstract in style, yet hauntingly expressive. There was an up-close of a leopard’s face done in neon orange and magenta, another of a woman’s face covered in dripping pinks and greens, like her emotions were leaking out of her skin.

“Like any of them?” she asked, leaning against the wall.

I pointed at the leopard. “I can’t even figure out how you did that.”

She laughed and shrugged. “I don’t know. I’ve just always loved to paint. And luckily, I’m good at it.”

“Luck ain’t got nothing to do with it, sweetheart. I can see how talented you are from fifty fucking yards away.”

I walked back toward her, slow and deliberate.

She stood up straighter, her chest rising a little faster.

“Sorry about yesterday,” I said quietly.

“What about yesterday?” she asked, brow furrowing.

I chuckled low. “How I had my way with you… and then walked off without a word.”

“Oh,” she said, wrinkling her nose. “That.Yeah, that was kind of… off.”

I wrapped my arms around her and pulled her into my chest. She melted into me like she’d been waiting for it.

“Sorry, sweetheart. Things are just tense right now. I just wanted to see you, and then it hit me that you’re the only bright spot in my day.”

She looked up at me, lips parted slightly. “So you just walked away?” she laughed.

“Yeah. Not my best moment.”

She leaned up and kissed me, soft and sure.

“How about you make it up to me?” she asked, mischief curling around her voice.

“How can I do that?” I asked, my hands already exploring the dip of her back.

She took my hand and pulled me toward the couch.

I wrapped my arms around her from behind, burying my face in the curve of her neck. She smelled like paint and lavender and something that had quickly become home.