Paint Me Beautiful

around his knees.
    “ Nope,” he says, but he isn't smiling when he says this. “He can't walk without help though. He used to be in a wheelchair, but he's stubborn as hell, so now he uses a cane.” I sit back, too, and lean against the wall behind me. I can still see out the window, still take in the rolling blanket of trees and the cover of darkness that suits me so well tonight.
    “ Is that why you stopped coming here?” I ask him, keeping my gaze on the view and away from Emmett's face. It's suddenly just struck me how incredibly intimate this moment is, like it should be shared between people with history, not people who've just met.
    “ Nah,” Emmett says, and from the corner of my eye I can see that he's adjusting his beanie again. “When we started outgrowing the beds, when we didn't even fit on the floor in our sleeping bags anymore, that's when we stopped coming.” He pauses. “Though I think our minds outgrew the space before our bodies really did, you know?” I don't, but I don't say anything. I stay quiet for awhile. It's cold up here, colder than it was down below it seems and I shiver, wrapping my arms around myself to still my tired body. Emmett clears his throat. “I know we just met and all, but is there something you want to talk about? You seem a bit down.” My head snaps over to his face. In this light, I can see the slightest hint of stubble on his chin.
    “ I'm fine,” I lie, wondering what it is that's wrong with me exactly. Am I consumed by desire? Am I too single-minded about the path my life should take? I don't have any answers, so I just shrug off the implications in his question and my own. “What about you? This seems like the sort of place someone would go to escape or to run away.”
    “ Yeah, I guess so, but that's okay every once in awhile, isn't it?”
    “ This is the weirdest first date I've ever been on,” I blurt. Emmett smiles.
    “ Same here.”
    “ Then why did you bring me up here?”
    “ You looked like you needed an escape.” I stare at him for a moment and then pull my phone out of my back pocket. It's getting late, and I need to do some grooming for tomorrow's casting call. The immediate danger my family was posing to my mental health and the size of my waistline should be over, at least for now. Plus, I can always say that I ate with Emmett.
    “ I should get home,” I tell him, deciding that the truth is probably my best avenue of escape. “I really do have an early appointment. It's an open call for a print campaign. Seriously, very rare.”
    “ Oh, come on,” Emmett says, scooting forward a couple of inches so that the toes of our shoes are touching. “We just got here.” He rests his chin on his knees. “Tell me a little about yourself.” I frown. This is my least favorite part of dating. I haven't accomplished anything in my life therefore I have nothing to talk about. I've failed over a hundred casting calls and am as fat as a pig, not exactly the best discussion topics to reel a guy in. At this point though, I am still not that interested in Emmett Sinclair. Yes, I want him to like me, and yes, he's cute as hell, but he doesn't understand what it's like to want something so bad you'd die for it. Nobody does.
    “ Ten minutes,” I say. “And you first.” Emmett sighs and slaps his hands on the wood floor on either side of him.
    “ What do you want to know?” he asks me as I sit up straighter, disgusted at the rolls around my waist. I doubt Emmett even notices or would care if he did, but it isn't about him – this is about me.
    “ What would you say is your best quality?” I ask him, thinking that I sound like a game show host but unable to take the words back. Emmett thinks on this for a moment which, once again, astounds me. He even considers stupid questions. Good for him.
    “ I'm trusting,” he says and then squinches up his face a bit. “Is that a weird thing to say about myself? Maybe I should say I'm gullible?”
    “ And you're modest, too,” I add, smiling back at him. Emmett chuckles and shakes his head.
    “ Hardly.” He looks up at me, and the moonlight catches on his brown eyes, making them shimmer with color and life. I think I could get a crush on this guy pretty easily. If I had time for crushes, I would welcome Mr. Sinclair with open arms. As things stand, this could be our first and last date. I decide that if it is, at the very least I should at least let myself taste those lips. They're puffy and pink