Paint Me Beautiful

like a designer shirt should be. “I'm glad I was here.”
    “ Why?” Emmett touches his black beanie with one hand, the only sign that he's a little nervous. The rest of his body looks relaxed, from the set of his shoulders to the soft smile on his full lips.
    “ It makes what I was going to ask a whole lot easier. I mean, it makes more sense now.”
    “ Um?” I have no idea what's going on or what he's trying to say. What I do know is that my fucking family is nuts. They think that because I don't have curves in all the wrong places and double D breasts that I'm suddenly anorexic? Bulimic? I've only thrown up once, and I didn't binge. That hardly counts. Just as I'd feared, Marlena found a cause to champion and ran with it. This is not going to end well for me.
    “ Never mind,” Emmett says, shaking his head. Tufts of chestnut hair peek out from beneath his knitted cap, and I have to resist the urge to reach over and touch them. I know it was less than forty-eight hours ago that we had sex, but it doesn't feel like it. When I imagine Emmett's cock sliding into me, my cheeks turn pink and I have to close my eyes to get a hold of myself. What was I thinking? He reaches out and touches my knee, turning my body to jelly and making my heart gallop painfully. Oh, that's right. I wasn't thinking. “I'll talk to you about it after.” Emmett looks over at me for a brief second and winks. “How was your call back?”
    “ I didn't have one,” I admit, looking down at my lap, at my hands that won't stop shaking, not without a whole lot of effort on my part. I wrap my arms around myself and wish I'd thought to bring a jacket. Emmett notices and turns on the heater before responding to my admission.
    “ That's okay,” he says. “I kind of figured that out. If you don't want to hang out with me, you can just say it. You don't have to make things up.” Coming out of some peoples' mouths, that statement might've come across as offensive, but Emmett just says it matter-of-factly and very gently, like he just wants to make sure I know that.
    “ Thanks,” I say as warm air spills from the cars vents and wraps around my body. I'm getting so cold now that even Emmett's heated presence isn't enough to keep the chills away. I adjust the vent closest to me and notice that my nails are tinted blue. What the hell? I quickly tuck my hands under my thighs to keep Emmett from noticing. “Honestly though, why are you being so nice to me? Most guys would've just walked away.”
    “ Really?” he asks as if that's news to him. “Truly, I don't know any guy that would walk away from a kiss like that.”
    “ You mean a fuck?” Emmett tugs his beanie down over his brows and sighs.
    “ Nope, I meant the kiss.” He lets go of his hat and puts his left hand back at the ten position on the wheel. “Look, Claire, can I tell you a secret?” I shrug. I should be flirting with him, smiling, laughing. My heart still wants him desperately, but she's also injured from my family's betrayal. Truthfully, I feel just a little numb. “I had a lot growing up, too much maybe.” Emmett takes a moment to wet his lips and look over at me. “But I've never had anybody like you in my life.”
    “ Damaged?” I ask, but my voice doesn't sound bitter, just cold, like I'm stating a basic fact. Again, I wonder how I got this way. Did my mom smother me too much? Was my dad's hand too firm? I don't know. What I do know is that there are people out there who have had it a lot worse, and they're not like me, not necessarily.
    “ Complex,” Emmett says with a quick grin. I glance up sharply at his face. It's a bit stubbly tonight, like maybe he shaved it yesterday morning. I decide then and there that I definitely like it best that way. “Maybe what I should be asking is why you're giving the time of day to a vanilla guy like me.” I snort. Emmett, vanilla? No. Hot? Yes. Scruffy? Maybe. The world's most explosive kisser? Absolutely. “Sounds stupid coming out of the other horse's mouth, huh?” I smile, finally. I'm still pissed at my family, and maybe even a bit terrified at their threats, but I have this moment, so I may as well use it. There's got to be a way out of this, there just has to be.
    “ I hope my dad wasn't too much?” I ask, changing the subject back to more domestic matters. The whole 'guy's first sleepover' thing seems like a walk in the park compared to all of this ED bullshit. I don't have a fucking disorder; I just know