Her Secret Pleasure by Jordan Bell Page B

inside of me, despite my very immediate want and need, all of it shattered all over again when he turned abruptly and fled into the kitchen, pulling out his phone urgently as if the building were on fire.
    The red leather door swished back and forth long enough that I was able to hear the conversation that followed for several seconds.
    “What the hell is she doing here, Zach?”
    Silence.
    “You had no goddamned right.”
    Silence.
    “No. I’ll take care of it.”
    Silence.
    Numbness filtered down through my body as everything made perfect, blinding sense. Why hadn’t Sean come to the library instead of Zach? Because he had no interest in seeing me. Why would Sean ask Zach to bring me here to help him after how strange and painful our ending had been? He wouldn’t have me brought here because we’d had our end. There were no take backs.
    It all made such painful sense and I had no idea how I hadn’t seen it coming.
    Sean did not come back out right away so I made my way down the ladder to leave before he decided to throw me out.
    The door swished open and he stepped back into the room with his head down, phone in hand. I turned away because I couldn’t look at him like this, my heart suffocating itself in my chest.
    “Zach brought you here.” It was a simple statement and lacked the heavy anger he’d aimed at his brother. “I didn’t know. I wouldn’t have had him bother you.”
    “It wasn’t a bother.”
    I collected my mess of paint brushes, surprised by how much I’d splattered on my arms and hands. I didn’t look at him as I sunk to my knees next to the basin of water I’d been left to use for clean-up.
    A sharp intake of breath sent shivers down my spine and I found him staring down at my kneeling body, his pupils large, his mouth open a fraction. He breathed in quick, shallow pants that scrubbed my insides raw. It was so hard to look away and dunk my hands into frigid water, but the shock of cold helped clear the fog from my thoughts.
    I worked silently to scrub the bristles free of their paint residue. When I finally pulled my hands out I was shivering, from cold or something else, I couldn’t say.
    Wordlessly he knelt next to me with a towel cupped between his hands and I didn’t meet his gaze as I set the brushes on the towel. He rolled the brushes and gently wiped the excess water from them without damaging the bristles like I’d shown him a million years ago.
     “I don’t mind helping,” I said, finally. “I understand he needed a familiar face, though I was surprised he even knew I painted, let alone where I worked.”
    “I told him about your paintings.” He blinked, glanced up, and again I was captured in that blue gaze. There was nothing I could do to fight it. “Wait, he came to your work ?”
    “And my apartment, but it’s fine. Like I said, I’m happy to help. I’m happy for you both. This place is really something.”
    My words fell flat, even though I meant them, but each second shut down a new slice of my heart. I stood up and started capping all the paint and arranging them out of the way in case the equipment needed to be moved in the morning.
    “Thank you. This…” He stood with me. “This is awkward.”
    “I was just leaving.”
    I tucked my toes into my shoes, searched for my jacket amongst the tables and chairs. It felt like the morning after a night of one too many drinks. The numbness faded slowly and left a wake of humiliation that burned my cheeks and threatened very real tears I couldn’t let him see. I struggled into my jacket, nearly dumped my bag on the floor trying to collect it, and made a dash for the door.
    “Kara. Kara, wait…I just didn’t expect to ever see you again…” He caught my wrist before I hit the double doors into the lounge and my humiliation overpowered my good sense. I spun to face him, my wrist caught in his hand.
    “You didn’t even say goodbye!”
    Sean stopped and furrowed his brow, his mouth opened in surprised silence.