Page 58 of The Other Side of Paradise (Story of Paradise #2)
Brooklyn’s voice called from behind, and I looked back at where she came up the side path that ran through the bushes as a shortcut between our houses, a hand raised high. “Didn’t tell me all those parties you were planning were starting already,” she said.
Ryan positively glowed seeing Brooklyn coming, like a total dork.
I thought maybe it would wear off after a couple weeks, but I was starting to think maybe she’d be that kind of sappy in-love loser forever.
Even if they still hadn’t dropped the L-bomb yet.
A million dollars said they would after Ryan’s long, heartbreaking absence of two entire weeks, and then they’d be gushing I love you cuteness every two seconds like the pair of losers they were.
“Tried to just drop off the gift like I told you I would,” she said. “Got distracted picking on Allison.”
“Very understandable.” Brooklyn came up to her side and kissed the side of her head. I stepped back, drawing my shoulders up higher.
“Well, see you at the airport bright and early tomorrow morning,” I said. “I don’t envy you flying that early. Until then, have fun fucking on the terrace or whatever you freaks do.”
Brooklyn smiled evenly, but the flicker in Ryan’s expression gave away that I’d hit close to home.
Exhibitionism… guess that figured. You didn’t put your personal writing out on the internet unless you were a little freaky.
“We’ll give you none of the updates,” Brooklyn said lightly. “Enjoy your workshop, you two.”
I waited until Allison and I got inside, Allison taking off her shoes and dropping her bag on the couch, before I said, “Did you know they did that?”
“Did what?” she said, looking up from where she was bent over untying her shoelaces, and she snorted loudly when I said,
“Fucked on the terrace.”
“Uh—nope. I don’t spend a lot of time looking when I’m wandering over there. And now I definitely won’t.”
I laughed, dropping the box on the table, its coarse wood familiar under my fingers, feeling like breakfasts and dinners here alongside Allison. “I can’t believe Ryan of all people is into freaky stuff. Whatever. Let’s open this parting gift.”
She pulled up a chair on the other side of the table, perching on the front edge as I ripped open the paper and opened a blank cardboard box to find a set of paints and brushes, along with a porcelain palette, the kind Allison liked.
Allison laughed, picking up one of the brushes from the box, turning it to read the brand labeling on the front.
“Oh, wow,” she said. “She didn’t hold back with this stuff. ”
I softened, picking them out of the box and arranging them on the table.
“What a dork,” I said with a thick feeling in my throat.
The message was perfectly clear—now with my own set, I wouldn’t have to mooch off of Allison’s stuff all the time.
We could both be painters here—equals instead of me as a guest in her place.
And with the timing—right before we were scheduled to run our first volunteer workshop together, helping teach a bunch of tourists and workshop regulars some painting techniques and figure studying, it was Ryan’s quiet vote of confidence.
Telling me without saying a word you’re really doing it now, it’s going to go great.
“So much for graphic design,” Allison laughed. “Looks like I have company in dragging you to the dark side of traditional media.”
“I mean, get you a girl who can do both.” I stopped when I pulled out a smaller box, this one with a note saying for Allison. “You got something too,” I said, sliding it to her. “Just saying, my present is, like, ten times the size of yours.”
“I’ll try not to take it personally.” She opened the box, and she let out a small breath as she pulled out a small tube of acrylic paint. “Oh, shit.”
“Ooh, paint. Generic gift for a painter.”
“This is quinacridone gold. I’ve always wanted something like this, but I wouldn’t in a million years have justified the price with…” She held it up to the light, turning it over excitedly in her hands. “How did she even know? Does she paint?”
“Nah… she’s just nosy. Always picking up on things she has no reason to. Guess that’s why she had to go become a journalist instead.”
She laughed, and I saw a little pink blush spill out over the tops of her cheeks, looking just past me. “Cool… damn. Now I owe her one.”
“What are you thinking about?”
“What—nothing.” She blushed harder, putting the paint down and busying herself with the box. “Well, that’s a cool present. Tell her I said thanks. I mean, I have her number, I’ll tell her I said thanks. For both of us. I mean, you can tell her you said thanks, for yourself.”
“Allison.” I reached over the table, and I used the trick I’d learned to get her to tell me the truth—cupped her jaw and turned her head to face me, and she went iridescent, eyes wide, looking at me.
“Stella. Hi.”
“Hi.” I leaned over the table and kissed her quickly, and when she was suitably dazed, I said, “Tell me.”
“The… uh. I was thinking it would actually be perfect for a finishing touch on a painting that, um… well, you know, an old painting that means a lot.”
“Is it the painting of me on your couch?”
“Ugh, yes.” She looked away, blushing harder. “It’s just… detailing in your eyes. The color is good. Like… it’s a very lustrous color, like sunlit amber, and quinacridone doesn’t fade away and lose its shine like other acrylics do, so it’s, um, you know…”
I stared at her a while, smiling wider and wider until it hurt, and I said, “You are literally so romantic. Stop that right now. Except don’t.”
She scratched her head. “I regret opening my mouth.”
“Can we do it right now? We have plenty of time before the workshop.”
“Oh, uh. I mean, yeah. We should set you up with your tools too! Get you ready with your kit so you’re really in a good position to run a workshop. Let everyone know you’re a serious painter.”
“You’re avoiding the topic.”
“Ugh, yes, I am. Okay, fine! Let’s… let’s just do a little touchup. A little overpaint. Detail work. Devil’s in the details. I mean, not that there’s anything devilish about detailing in your eyes. I mean…”
I smiled. She groaned, pinching the bridge of her nose.
“I’m sorry. There’s something biologically very wrong with me.”
“I wouldn’t change anything about you.”
“Jesus, you of all people saying that about me. Maybe I’m doing something right.”
I really liked this girl. Didn’t hurt that she was very good for my self-esteem.
We got the canvas set up, and Allison was blushing furiously the whole time—I mean, it was a sexy painting, but it was also symbolic of a lot for us.
Of her catching me when I fell, when everything else broke away underneath me…
and of how we’d always shared our feelings.
I mean, I guess I couldn’t speak for her, but I was pretty sure she was on the same page that sex was a lot more than just a fun thing to do with our bodies.
Of course, I still got a little turned on seeing the way Allison squirmed while getting set up with the painting.
Between that and the loving attention to detail as she painted the color in on my eyes, bringing highlights to life there and in the highlights in my hair, a few scatterings of where golden sunlight in the painting glowed on my skin, I was a little touchy-feely when she finished, and she softened back against me when I pressed into her back with my hands on her sides.
And she was very receptive when I slipped my hands up under her shirt, feeling her soft, smooth skin.
“Stella… you really shouldn’t do that right now,” she murmured. I slipped my hands around to her front, brushing my thumb over her navel.
“I should if I’m planning on taking you to bed before the workshop.”
“We—we don’t have a lot of time—”
“Consider it a warmup round, then.”
“Well…” she said, clearly wanting it but not wanting to admit that, so I helped her along a little bit, unbuttoning her pants. She moved her hips against me with a small gasp. “Okay. Okay, I should be quick anyway. My god.”
She was, but that was okay—I kissed her deeply and passionately and took her to the bedroom, where I eased her onto her back in that soft, romantic bed, I stripped her out of her clothes and lavished kisses over every part of her body.
Took off my clothes and slipped into the strap-on harness, and I settled in between her legs, admiring how perfect she looked spread out underneath me with those pretty brown eyes pleading looking up at me, and I held eye contact while I pushed inside of her until she let her eyes flutter shut with a long moan, and I sank into her, our lips meeting in a long, slow kiss, not rushing anything.
It didn’t take long before she quivered underneath me with a soft, tender gasp, and she came undone for me, her eyes soft adoration when she opened them again looking up at me.
Took off the strap and guided her between my legs while I laid on my back this time, and I indulged in the soft touch of her lips and her tongue as she returned the favor, sending me off to paradise, and it wasn’t long before we melted together at the head of the bed, Allison tangled up in my arms breathing softly, her face against my collar while I peppered small kisses on the top of her head.
“Perfect inspiration for the workshop,” I said, and she snorted, laughing softly against me.
“That’s all this was, I’m sure.”
“Of course. Just looking for inspo. It’s now a course on painting hot naked women.”
“I mean, I’d… I’d attend that workshop.”
“Oh, I know.” I kissed her again, softly, and I spoke gently. “Hey, Allison?”
“Mm?”
“Is it too soon to tell you I’m in love with you?”
She closed her eyes, settling softly against me with a smile spreading out over her features. “I was in love with you from the instant I first saw you. Took you long enough to catch up.”
I laughed, and I ducked down to catch her in a long, sweet kiss, her lips soft and perfect against mine as I caressed my fingertips down her back. “Sorry if I took a second.”
“You can take your time. With anything. I mean, I’m a little bit obsessed with this… you could take all the time in the world.”
Guess that made sense. After all, that highlight color wasn’t fading out—a light in my eyes that was going to be shining for years and years to come.
Not the worst vacation in the world.