Paint Me Beautiful

cheeks and tease my hands as I hold them out in front of me. Surprisingly, I don't trip over any roots or rocks, guided expertly by Emmett's hands on my hips. The longer they sit there, the warmer they feel, the more his touch seems to penetrate through the denim of my rag & bone jeans, the ones my father threw a fit over because he thinks they're too tight. “Okay, stop,” Emmett says, breath teasing the fine hairs on the back of my neck, sending a shiver down my spine that I'm hard pressed to hide from him. I swear, I can hear him smiling behind me. “You can open your eyes now.” I do and find myself at the base of a rope ladder. When I look up to see what it's attached to, I find nothing but darkness and the thick limbs of trees. I glance over my shoulder and try to make out Emmett's face in the shadows. “Sorry for the secrecy,” he tells me, and I see his white teeth flash in a grin. “But this place is kind of a family secret.” He gestures absently with his arm. “Especially the release for the rope ladder. If I gave that secret away, even to a pretty girl, my cousins would kill me.” I look up again, catch hints of blue-black sky and twinkling stars.
    “ Is there a tree house up there?” I ask, trying to figure out where this dirty, old rope ladder is going to take me. Without waiting for an answer, I start to climb.
    “ Not a tree house,” Emmett says, following close behind me. “The world's most amazing tree house.” I take his word for it, so out of breath that I find my hands shaking and my muscles quivering. God, I'm out of shape, I think as I force myself up, up, up, into the darkness of the sky and the tangled limbs of trees. I don't want muscles per se, but maybe if I toned my body a bit, I'd get a call back? “Just when you wonder if it's worth it, if you should give up and go back down, you'll see it,” Emmett tells me, not sounding at all like he's fatigued. I press on, ignoring the fall of blackness below me and the repercussions a fall would have not just on my body but also my career.
    And Emmett is right.
    Just when my body is about to give up on me, punish me maybe for not eating, I find myself emerging into a wooden structure that's less tree house and more floating cabin. I grab the wooden handles near the opening and haul myself up and in, sitting on my knees for a moment as I take in the massive room. We're so high up now that silver beams of moonlight cut through the glassless skylights and illuminate a pair of twin beds that come up out of the floor like they've just grown from the tree itself. There are two benches, built the same way. All the furniture is fluid, connected to the floor and walls, shaped with careful hands and time.
    “ Wow,” I say as Emmett grunts and pulls himself up beside me.
    “ Nice, huh?” he asks and offers no explanation. “Come on, the best views are over here.” The ceiling is low so we crawl across the smooth wooden floor on our hands and knees, navigating through pine needles and small twigs. It's pretty obvious that nobody's been here in awhile but that once this place was well loved. It's a bit sad in a way.
    “ Come here often?” I ask although I already know the answer to that question.
    “ Not anymore,” Emmett tells me as he pauses next to another glassless window and points out at the horizon. “Look.” I crawl up beside him and grab the edges of the wood, thrusting my head and shoulders out before I even take in the pale, white wisps of far off mountain peaks. I want to be empty and weightless. I want to drop from this window and rise into the sky like a cloud, let the wind blow me away. I want to be so light upon my feet that even Mother Earth herself questions if I walk on her back.
    “ Beautiful,” I say, stretching out just a bit more, taking in the plump, shapely form of the moon who has no shame at her size, her curves. Once a month though, she changes into that tiny sliver of lunette, that itty-bitty slice of beauty that doesn't need substance to be pretty.
    “ Whoa there,” Emmett says, gripping my upper arm firmly. The shiny fabric of the jacket rustles as I turn my head to look at him. “Careful. One of my cousins actually fell from this very spot once.”
    “ Did he die?” I ask, hating the sound of my own voice. What kind of question is that to ask someone I've just met? He's just shown me his world; I should be respectful. Emmett pulls me gently inside the window and sits back, wrapping his arms