Paint Me Beautiful

that she would just go and get married, have kids or something. I'm tired of her treating me like I'm her offspring. “Claire?” Emmett touches my chin, turns me to face him. When I look into his eyes, I see that they're focused on my friends. He recognizes them. “Are you okay with this?”
    “ Did you tell them?” I ask, fairly certain that he didn't but wanting to know, just in case.
    “ I told your sister where we were going,” he says and then, “I'm sorry. Want to go to the tree house after?”
    “ I want to live in the tree house,” I admit to him as he swings his eyes back to mine. The air in the car goes from warm to hot and then we're just on each other like we've been glamoured, poisoned by some ancient faerie with wicked intentions, who people used to pray to, beg for better sex lives, for hotter lovers, for longer orgasms. Emmett and I bump teeth with a gentle clack and then soften our frenzy when we taste a bit of blood, gently nipping at one another's lower lips, swirling tongues, tasting, eating, breathing one another.
    “ I'll draw you a map,” he whispers. “It's yours.”
    I grab Emmett's face between my hands, crush my mouth to his, grab his hair, force him down to my neck where he licks my collarbone, smashes my body against his. The hard line of the gear shift juts into our bodies, reminding us that much as we might want to continue with our exploration, we're hardly in the place to do it.
    Emmett draws back first, letting his head fall against the headrest of his seat with a groan.
    “ Are you a Goddess in disguise?” he asks me. I wipe my hand across my mouth and pull the rearview mirror over, so that I can stare in it.
    “ Is that a line?” I ask as I notice that despite my lack of makeup, my cheeks are pink and my lips are red. I read once that all makeup is really there for is to mimic a woman's facial expression after sex. Think about it: the best lips are always done up in red or pink, just like a mouth swollen from kissing. Cheeks are rouged to show heat, passion, health. The lids are highlighted, outlined with color and made to pop from the face, a poor imitation of a wide eyed beauty who's still lying in that wet patch in the middle of the bed, chest damp with sweat and panting. I smile slightly and let go of the mirror.
    “ Just a question, I promise,” he tells me and then stills his breathing suddenly. I look up and see we're being watched. Jenn and Leanne are coming right this way. I sigh and get out of the car first, careful to keep my hands out of sight and my chest up, shoulders back. I don't need anybody else commenting on my body shape today.
    “ Hey!” Leanne says, skipping over, honey curls wound up into a bun on the top of her head. Her makeup looks nice, but she's wearing a pink sweat suit and doesn't seem to care that she looks like she's either ready for bed or for a Jazzercise class. “Marlena said you'd be here tonight and told us you seemed a little lonely.” Leanne gives me a quick hug and then steps back, blue eyes locking onto Emmett as he comes up beside us.
    “ Hey,” he says with a little wave before he sticks his hand back in his pockets.
    “ Maybe Miss M was a bit misinformed?” Jenn asks, and I think she's trying to be funny, but it just comes across as mean. Her dark eyes are taking me in from head to toe, crinkling at the corners as she examines my gown. Something mean flashes in her eyes, and I can't tell if it's jealousy or disgust or confusion, but whatever it is, I don't like it. I examine her dress and how short it is, how it clings to her thighs and begs her to keep pulling it down. She has nice legs, I'll give you that, but she's gone too short and looks more uncomfortable than she does sexy. I try not to stare.
    “ I'm glad you guys are here,” I lie. I wish it was just Emmett and me, wrapped up in our own little world. Besides, I know if the moment comes where we're supposed to taste something, to eat, I can count on him not to pressure me or judge me. I can't say the same for my friends. I feel like I don't even know them anymore. Or maybe it's that I don't know myself anymore. That the old Claire Simone is dead and gone, never to return. I smile. “I guess we should head in?” I ask and Leanne ends up taking my arm in hers, pulling me just a bit ahead of Emmett like we're in junior high or something. I love the girl, but she needs to grow up. I fear for her. I have this terrible feeling that she's going to be living