The Art of Us
Page 26
“I know.” Alex ran her hands up and down Charlee’s back. “That guy that just started was late for his shift.”
“Ugh.” Charlee scoffed. “Move in with me?”
Alex didn’t seem to register the words for a moment, so Charlee held her breath. A moment later, she was pushed from the safe haven of her Alex-hair cave and pinned with a confused stare.
“Did you just scoff and then ask me to move in with you?”
“Possibly, yes, but the scoffing was at the thing you said, not at the thing I said.”
“Charlee.”
“I know!” Charlee tried to wriggle her way back into Alex’s arms, but Alex wouldn’t let her. She groaned. “I know, okay? We haven’t even been together six full months, so it’s seriously insane that I’m asking you to get a place with me this summer, but I guess I’m just insane, because it’s all I’ve been able to think about, and more than anything in the world right now, that’s what I want.”
Alex softened. “It is?”
“It is.” Charlee shifted up to kiss Alex’s forehead, then her nose. She nodded as she placed a final, simple kiss on Alex’s lips. “We sneak into each other’s dorms every night anyway.”
“True.”
“Alex?”
“Charlee?”
Charlee rested her forehead against Alex’s and closed her eyes. She whispered her next words like a prayer. “Say yes.”
“Yes.”
Charlee and Alex make their way up the stone steps of the university library, hands linked and swinging lightly between them. “You think they’ll let us in?”
“It’s a library, Charlee.”
Her voice has mostly returned, but Charlee still feels the need to clear her throat after every few sentences. “We don’t have student passes anymore.”
“No, but we’re alumni. They’ll let us in. Stop worrying.”
“I can’t believe we’re doing this.”
“It’s our anniversary; well, it’s one of our anniversaries.”
“One of our many, many anniversaries.”
“Why did we decide to have an anniversary for every important thing that ever happened in our relationship?”
Charlee shrugs. “More sex in the library?”
Alex smiles and holds the door open for Charlee. They walk right in without a hitch. Alex releases a quiet laugh when Charlee glances anxiously around as if they will be tackled by security any minute. Charlee smacks her shoulder for it.
The third floor is as empty as ever. Weaving through the aisles to their old study room makes Charlee feel as if she has stepped back in time. Her heart thumps madly, a thrill courses through her, and she releases Alex’s hand to cross into the next aisle over. They walk parallel to one another, separated by shelves and untouched books, and when they make it to the end of their aisles, Charlee swings around to stand in front of Alex.
She plants a hand on her hip and grins like a giddy child. “Well, well, if it isn’t the cute asshole who insulted me on my first day here.”
“Oh, the rude blonde who stole my spot.”
Charlee reaches for her hands. “This is where we began,” she says as she opens the door and leads them inside. It barely clicks back into place before she is yanking Alex against her and kissing her full on the mouth.
Hard and fast, it goes deep, deep, and Charlee feels like she could drown in it, as if she might never come up for air and doesn’t want to. Her fingers tangle in Alex’s hair and scratch gently at her scalp, evoking a quiet groan. Charlee licks at the swell of Alex’s bottom lip before sucking it hard into her mouth and runs her hands down to the open ends of Alex’s coat. The material lands in a heap on the floor, followed by Charlee’s own coat.
“Are we really going to do this?” Alex closes her eyes at the scrape of Charlee’s teeth across her pulse point. “We’re almost thirty.”
Charlee holds her index finger up to her lips. “Quiet,” she says. “You don’t want to draw attention.” She nips at Alex’s throat again. “The door doesn’t lock, remember?”
When they later collapse on the floor, boneless and spent, Charlee struggles to catch her breath. She swears she’s floating. Alex’s hand is still buried in her pants, and Charlee’s sweat-slicked forehead squeaks against Alex’s cheek. They press lazy, tired kisses to each other’s cheeks and ears, whatever flesh is within reach, and Charlee says, “Move in with me.”
Alex shifts up onto her elbow and looks down at her. She makes lazy circles around Charlee’s still-sensitive clit with her fingers and tilts her head to the side. “I’m already with you.”
“But your things aren’t,” Charlee says with a gentle gasp, hips bucking. She grabs Alex’s wrist to still her ministrations and pulls her hand up and out. “I mean it, Alex. All your things. Everything you own. Everything you have. Everything you are.” She kisses Alex’s slick fingers. “I want you home. For real. For good.”
Alex closes her eyes like she’s fighting back tears, and Charlee reaches up to brush her unruly hair out of her face. She runs her index finger down Alex’s nose and playfully taps the tip of it.
“Just tap me once for yes or twice for no.”
A wet laugh escapes Alex. It melts into an easy sigh as she stares down at Charlee. That watery gaze is her entire universe until she feels Alex’s fingers move over her heart.
One small tap.
The old mug’s warm ceramic is soothing against Alex’s fingers as she stands against a cold concrete wall. She watches the movers unload her things from a small truck—every little thing she owns and the few pieces of furniture she’d opted to keep. Her index finger rubs absentmindedly over the worn lightbulb, and she feels content to simply stand here and be.
She holds the mug just over her heart, its heat pairing with the warmth that has already washed through her chest and settled there sometime between the whisper of Charlee’s breath on her lips and the tickle of a paintbrush against her leg. Her body feels light and loose, floating. Every inch buzzes with pleasure and possibility. The taste of Charlee still lingers on her lips, and Alex has never felt this healthy before. This alive.
“Hey.”
Alex blinks, focuses on Charlee, making her way over. “Hi,” she says, opening her arms as Charlee curls in around her and kisses the line of her jaw.
“You still have the mug,” she says, resting her head against Alex’s collarbone.
“I do.”
“Can I get a watt watt?” Charlee’s breath forms a cloud of fog that drifts and drifts and then dissipates.
Alex squeezes around her, careful not to spill her coffee. “Never gets old.”
“Where would you like this, ma’am?”
Near the front door of the building, the movers stop, a large, rectangular piece held between two of them. Its packaging is pristine, its label still boldly printed across the front.
CPC—Charlee Parker Creations
Charlee gasps at the sight of it.
“Anywhere you can find space,” Alex says, waving a hand. “Just be very careful with it, please.” When she looks back to Charlee, she grins. “I hope they prop it up against the probing alien.”
“Alex.” It’s a breathless utterance, partially lost to the sudden strain in Charlee’s voice, and Alex’s smile only widens.
“Charlee?”
“How did y—”
Alex runs a hand over Charlee’s hair and tugs at her small ponytail. “The woman you sold it to? Rachel?”
Charlee nods.
“She’s my assistant,” Alex says. “She bought the piece on my behalf.”
Charlee stares at her for one long moment, then turns in Alex’s arms. She leans her back into Alex’s chest and pulls Alex’s free arm around her, watching the movers, the cars, and the people bustling around the freezing city. She doesn’t say a word, and Alex kn
ows she’s overwhelmed.
“I knew it was special when I first saw it.” Alex kisses the back of Charlee’s head. “Because I saw you in it, Charlee. You. Not me. All the things you weren’t saying out loud. I could read them in the lines. In every stroke. Every shade. Everything you’d been holding in for years. I knew because I was holding it all in too.”
Still silent, Charlee wipes at her cheeks and clutches Alex’s arm.
“I saw us,” Alex says after a deep breath. “All the things we were supposed to let go of and never could. All the things we were still meant to be together.” She rubs her thumb back and forth over the sleeve of Charlee’s coat. “Home is a Lover in Low Light.” She whispers the words, the title of the painting like a song looping in her head—something she never could let go of. “I heard that title, and I knew.”
“Knew what?”
“That you made your home in me too.”
Charlee doesn’t say anything for the longest time, doesn’t seem able to put her feelings to words, and Alex is okay with that. They’ve always been able to find each other as well in the silence as in the sound. So Alex simply breathes in the morning air, holds Charlee as tight as she can with one arm, and commits the moment to memory—one of so many that have come before and one of so many still waiting to be made.
When Charlee turns in her arms again, after what feels like hours, presses her freezing nose to Alex’s neck, and says, “It’s cold,” Alex feels like she is nineteen years old again. Winding through the frozen city. Lying in the dewy grass. Loving and being loved by the girl who finally gave her a family, a home.
They’re growing together again. Up from the ground. Up toward the stars.
Alex closes her eyes and lets the sounds of the city filter in. Her heart beats against Charlee’s, and she knows. This is what forever feels like.
She kisses Charlee’s temple, a soft touch, gentle.
“It’s beautiful.”
About KL Hughes
KL Hughes is an American author and screenwriter. Growing up in a small town, she spent much of her time inventing various ways to entertain herself and others. Whether through vocal performances or theatrical reenactments of books, movies, and actual events, Hughes showcased her extensive imagination and creativity at an early age.
Hughes later pursued and earned a bachelor of liberal arts degree in theatre arts and English literature. Her collegiate studies allowed her to develop and hone her skills in both creative writing and editing.
Working as a writer full-time, Hughes lives in California with her wife and Dalmatian. When not writing, she enjoys theatre and film, travel, visits to old cemeteries and haunted houses, putting on one-woman musicals for her wife, long walks and hikes, family time, and, of course, a good book.
CONNECT WITH KL HUGHES
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Twitter: @chrmdpoet
E-Mail: authorklhughes@gmail.com
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Enter Allison Sawyer, a free-spirited senior at New York University.
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After each blind date, Elena returns home to complain to Allison about her lacking suitors. As they bond, Elena begins to realize that the person possessing all the qualities she most desires might just be the woman who has been in front of her the entire time.
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Anna is the newest member of an elite ballet company. Her first class with her mysterious idol, Victoria, almost ruins her career before it starts. When she shows she might be a potential star, Victoria chooses Anna to launch a new season around.
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The Art of Us
© 2017 by KL Hughes
ISBN (epub): 978-3-95533-892-3
ISBN (mobi): 978-3-95533-891-6
Also available as paperback.
Published by Ylva Publishing, legal entity of Ylva Verlag, e.Kfr.
Ylva Verlag, e.Kfr.
Owner: Astrid Ohletz
Am Kirschgarten 2
65830 Kriftel
Germany
www.ylva-publishing.com
First edition: 2017
No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are a product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to locales, events, business establishments, or actual persons—living or dead—is entirely coincidental.
Credits
Edited by Andrea Bramhall, Michelle Aguilar, and JoSelle
Proofread by Kaite Welsh
Cover Design by papurrcat & Streetlight Graphics
Print Layout by Streetlight Graphics