Painted Memories (4 page)

“Is this the kind of service to be expected at this establishment? I'm sure it's something a girl could get used to.”

Tyler smirked and his brow lifted with a question in his eyes before he shrugged his shoulders. “Probably not, but for
you,
I would make an exception.”

He changed the subject when he grabbed the bar and began giving me instructions. He showed me how to hold it and the proper level for my arms when pulling the bar down behind my head. It wasn't rocket science, and I was sure this type of instruction wasn't necessary, but I let him guide me anyway. The thrill he sent through me when he slid his fingers underneath the length of my arms and
pulled them to the correct level, delighted me. I had to tighten my grip so I wouldn't let the bar go. His touch was soft and it tickled my skin, sending goose bumps down my arms. I hoped he didn't notice
.

After a couple of repetitions, I let the bar go. “Thanks for the lesson.”

Tyler's hand briefly patted my knee. “Easy enough, right?”

“Actually, I have a question.” I paused, half debating, half daring myself to continue. “Do you want to get a drink or have dinner with me sometime?” I don't know why I asked. I've
never
asked another guy out before, because... well, I don't know. Wasn't that usually a guy’s job? Or maybe I was too chicken to do it before? Forget that now. I was becoming adventurous. It was about time I started living a little.

“Isn't the guy supposed to be the one that asks the girl out?”

I leaned in a little and laughed. It sounded foreign and flirty to me, a kind of pent-up fun that I had ignored for too long. It felt good. “Well, it is the twenty-first century, and sometimes you have to take matters into your own hands.”

I sat on the bench and waited for Tyler to find a piece of paper and a pen. I was still blown away at my own words. I felt like a completely different person. I looked around the room and noticed Andrea walking on the treadmill, staring at me. She grinned and arched her brow as if questioning what was going on. Only yesterday, we were drooling over his hotness, and just a few minutes ago, I was practically in his lap!

Tyler came back and handed me a card with his cell phone number written on it. I took the pen from him and wrote down the address to Toni's Café on the bottom of the card before I tore it in half. “Meet me here tomorrow at six,” I said handing him half the card. 

“Are you sure? We can go someplace a little nicer. It may be the twenty-first century, but I can take you some place better than a café.”

“Nope. They have the best food around. I'll see you at six.” Toni's was quite on most days, hardly crowded, and the food was awesome. It was the perfect place to talk. I had to stay after school tomorrow for a meeting, so it worked out better if we met there. Plus, I wasn't stupid. I didn't know this guy and there was no way I’d let him come to my apartment. Not yet anyway.

After he left, I took my place on the treadmill beside Andrea. I figured I could do at least thirty minutes of cardio before I headed home. She gazed at me with a confused look and I knew what she was thinking. “So, how was your class today? Looks like I'll be able to get out an hour early once a week now that we have a regular art teacher,” I said as if everything were normal.

“Umm... screw class. What happened from the time I left yesterday to five minutes ago?” she asked, dumbfounded.

I smirked at her.
“Nothing much, really. He changed my flat tire yesterday and just gave me a lesson on how to use the weight machine.”

“No, that wasn't just a lesson; that was what I call
personal
service
. Who here can give me a lesson like that? I'll sign up right now!” She looked around, letting her voice carry past the hum of the treadmills.

“
Shhh,” I said, swatting her arm.

Andrea laughed, “He's already gone. Plus, I don't think his flirting was meant to be concealed, especially when he sat in front of you like he did. He should have just sat in your lap. But you did good, keeping it together. I definitely would not have been able to. I'm too shy when it comes to a confrontation like that.” 

“Usually, I am too. I don't know what got into me. I was flirting right back and I even asked him out! It's like my mind decided on its own to be adventurous. I'm not so sure it's a good idea, especially with me being so new here.”

She slowed the speed of the treadmill before coming to a stop all together. Stepping off, Andrea picked her bag up from the floor.
“There's nothing wrong with being adventurous, but you have to be careful about it.”

“That's why I'm meeting him at Toni's Cafe. He doesn't need to know where I live. Not right now anyway,” I smirked.

Andrea handed me a piece of paper. “Here's my number. If things get fishy, or you need an out, call me.”

“Aw, thanks!  Let me give you mine too. And we should definitely hang out sometime. I could use some girl time. Some grown-up conversations would be a welcomed change.”

“Girl, you and me both.”

Andrea and I drove over to the Starbucks around the corner after the gym. We tacked back on all the calories we lost from our workout by ordering Java Chip Frappuccinos. I wasn't a coffee drinker, but there was enough chocolate in it not to bother me. We had fun hanging out and it kept me from sitting home alone in my apartment for longer than I had to. On my way home, I stopped by the grocery store to pick up a few things. I also grabbed my mail from the community mailbox on the way up. Thankfully, the key to my apartment decided to cooperate like it was supposed to and I let myself in, unloading everything in my arms on the kitchen counter.

After my shower, I finished putting my groceries away and sifted through my mail. Every envelope was printed with
Drew McGregor- Apt 12B.

What?

Surely this wasn't the same guy who pulled me out of the pond. Or the same guy who taught art to my students today. He lives directly above me too!
Great.
Now I will never be able to avoid the embarrassing reminder of my actions during the past few days.

I glanced at the clock and it was nearly ten p.m.
Slipping my flip-flops on, I grabbed his mail and decided to stick it under his door. Doing it this way would prevent me from further embarrassment should I have to talk to him. I had to walk down the hall, then up two flights of stairs to get to the apartment above me. The layout from floor to floor was the same, so I knew it wouldn't be hard to find. I crept down the hall, searching for his apartment number, as if on a secret mission. Kneeling down in front of his door, I tried to wedge the mail under it. But I should have known it wouldn't fit. It wasn't like your closet, with a one-inch gap between the bottom of the door and the floor. I had no choice. I could chicken out and leave it at the front office, or knock and get it over with. Taking a deep breath, I stood up straight and knocked. With a quick glance down at myself, I realized I should have put something else on besides my short shorts and tank top. What was I thinking? Relief flooded me when no one came to the door and I turned and walked away. I didn't get further than ten feet before I heard the door open. I squeezed my eyes tight, cringing as I kept walking, pretending I didn't hear anything.

“Excuse me, ma'am? Did you just knock?”

I swore under my breath before turning around with a shy grin. “Hi. Sorry, I know it's late, I didn't mean to bother you. I should have taken this to the front office,” I said, waving the mail in my hand as I eased towards him.

“Miss Morgan?” he asked as he leaned his shoulder into the doorframe, appraising me with his eyes. He looked me up and down and a small smile pulled at the corner of his mouth. “Are you stalking me?”

“What? Why would you thi—”

He chuckled, “I'm kidding. I knew you lived around here, I just didn't think you'd be tracking me down, especially after you left the classroom this afternoon.”

“Sorry. I just wasn't expecting to be reminded about my recent embarrassing encounter. It... you caught me off guard.” I felt dumber and dumber the more I talked. Something about him made me nervous. Hot guys that were supposed to do that to me, not the ones that fish you out of three feet of water.

“Don't be embarrassed. It's not every day I get to save a pretty woman. I think I was the lucky one.”

His compliment left me speechless. Instead, I cleared my throat and stuck out my hand. “I received this in my mailbox today. I think the postman might have mixed my box up with yours. I'm in 12A.”

He took the mail from my hand and eyed me curiously.
“Really? You live below me? Hmm... What are the odds of that?”

“I know; weird
coincidence, isn't it?” I said with a little laugh.

“Coincidence?
Hardly. Nothing is ever a coincidence. Everything happens for a reason.” He studied me for a minute before he scanned the envelopes in his hand. “I didn't even look at the mail I grabbed today; let me check to see if any of it is yours. Come on in.”

He left the door open and I stepped inside the doorway. My eyes were instantly torn away from him as vibrant colors filled my line of sight everywhere I looked. Canvas after canvas, frame after frame,
hanging on the walls were every type of landscape imaginable. Before I realized what I was doing, I found myself halfway across the room, examining his paintings. Some of them reminded me of an artist I studied in college, but I couldn't think of his name. I stopped at a beautiful picture that mesmerized me. Every color of blue filled its canvas. It was as if I were sitting on the edge of a lake. Dotting the night sky, puffy blue, grey, and white clouds shimmered over the water with a full moon high in the sky. A beautiful lake house reflected the moonlight, giving it an atmosphere that was peaceful in its solitude. It reminded me so much of the pond back home where I used to play as a kid, except this setting was tranquil and perfect. The script in the bottom right-hand corner caught my attention and I leaned in to read it. I gasped unexpectedly, my hand over my mouth and whirled around. Drew was standing only a few feet behind me, and I wasn't sure how long he was watching me.

“I take it you like that one?” he asked, arching his brow.

“You painted all of these?” I asked, astonished.

“Yep.”

“They’re incredible, all of them are. And you have so many,” I said as I turned in a small circle, scanning the other walls.

“Yes, more than a few. I've run out of room and have a bunch more leaning against the walls in the spare bedroom.”

“Why?” I asked, confused. “Why are you teaching Art in elementary school when you have this amazing talent?”

He laughed “Thanks for the compliment. I actually got the job for financial reasons. I'm getting ready to set up a studio and I could really use the extra money.”

“Oh, a studio. That's a fantastic idea. You can promote your work that way. You
do
promote it in other ways, don't you? ‘Cause, it would be a shame not to.”

“Well, I have a website that I started some time ago. I hang everything on the walls, take pictures and post them on my site. When one sells, I take it down, ship it out and hang another in its place. It's about the best way to do things right now.”

“Wow, that’s cool. Your business must be doing great, you have so many pictures.”

“Well, it didn't do that well at first, but now I get all kinds of requests. Some repeat buyers too. That's always nice. I even have this one person who bought several, but never provides me with a name, only an address.”

“Oh? Maybe it's a celebrity. Wouldn't that be cool?”

Drew laughed, “Yeah, I suppose it would be. I doubt it, but that would definitely be pretty awesome. Anyway, as you can see,” he looked around at the walls, “I've run out of room. I'm always painting, that's why I need a studio... that or stop painting altogether.”

“Stop! Don't... it would be a shame not to share your work with those who appreciate and respect it.” I didn't know what got into me. Why was I being so adamant about his paintings? Or standing so close to him with my hand on his arm in a pleading manner? He eyed me with a look of surprise and I was sure he wondered why a strange woman was in his apartment touching him. He peered down at his arm and I pulled my hand away and stepped back. “Sorry, I get kind of passionate about people following their dreams.”

“I like that. You could be my manager.” He laughed at himself as he walked toward his kitchen. “Would you like something to drink?”

I followed slightly behind him, but stayed in the living room. “Uh, no, thank you.” I watched him grab a glass from the counter and fill it with water from the faucet before walking back towards me and sitting on the couch.

“Do artist even have managers?” he asked. “I'm sure they don't, but I would hire you.”

I grinned, “Nah, I think that's a job reserved for a family member. You know, so they can manage your earnings, then take your money... like they do to all those Hollywood kids.”

“Damn, you're right. Well, you'll have to do that for me since my father doesn't approve of my career choice.”

“Really? Well,
that
sounds familiar. My father despises that I became a teacher. We can't have one conversation where I'm not reminded of the poor choice I made.” I inched closer to the couch and sat on the far end of it, angling my body towards him. I didn't want to seem rude by standing, especially when I was enjoying our unexpected chit-chat, and he seemed content with our discussion.