Truth in Watercolors (Truth Series Book 2) (3 page)

“What don’t you know?” a familiar voice spoke from behind me. August stood behind Kensie and wrapped his arms around her giving her a tender kiss on the lips that lingered a bit too long for a sister to witness. I averted my eyes and looked at Lennon, who was curling her lips in mock disgust.

“What colors to choose for the wedding,” Kensie told him once they’d finally parted.

“What’d you think, Capri?” August asked. “You
are
the artist.”

I twisted my lips. “I’m not an artist. I used to paint a little.”

“A little?” I flinched as the unmistakable voice bounded up to me. “Dude, Augustus, remember when she painted her entire bedroom black? Steve’s pissivity level was off the charts.” Wes slid comfortably into the chair next to me, as I slunk back into mine.

Lennon slapped her palms on the table and leaned toward me. “You painted your room black?”

I pushed back further until the tiny splinters of wood in the chair back forced their way through my thin shirt and jabbed at my spine. “It’s not a big deal,” I said directing my attention around the room to avoid the four sets of eyes focusing on me. My pulse was quickening by the millisecond.

“Not a big deal? I feel like I just found out T-Swift sings death metal!” Lennon shouted above the bar noise.

“No, noo, nooo,” Wes whined dramatically, thumping his head on the table next to me. I almost laughed at him when Lennon’s own dramatics lingered.

“Or that rainbows don’t exist!” The words fell from her mouth so casually.

I flinched.

I blinked. Hard.

I kept my eyes trained on everything except the group. They bounced around the room with each thrum of my pulse pressing against my neck.

Thrum.
Rainbows.

Thrum
. Don’t.

Thrum.
Exist.

My ears picked up on the groan of voices carrying on around me, but I could only hear those three words. This was exactly why I didn’t like being in the forefront. I’d much prefer to fade into the background where I was unnoticed. Where people didn’t ask questions. Where I didn’t have to avoid giving answers.

On so many occasions in my life, I’d felt just like this—like a chameleon seeking escape and blending into the surrounding four walls, only to be forgotten.

“Actually, dude, speaking of paint.” Wes’ voice broke through the fog in my head. I turned my attention back toward my friends but kept my eyes fixed on the martini glass between my fingertips.

Wes settled back into his chair and let his oversized legs sprawl out underneath the table. His thigh brushed against mine so faintly most wouldn’t have noticed, but I was keenly aware of everything around me. I inhaled a shuddered breath and pulled my thigh away immediately as he continued to talk. “I need to push back working on the mural. Rocco from the shop was going to help me, but he broke his arm last weekend in some bar fight.”

“Shit.” August tilted his head back in a hiss.

“Sorry, dude, it’s just too much to do on my own.”

“I need this thing done before the reopening,” August said leaning into Kensie, who moved her hand to rub his back. August was in the process of taking over as director of the San Diego Youth Center, or SYC. Upon his boss’s retirement, August had planned a grand reopening of sorts and had a list of upgrades he was making in the center in preparation. One of those was a giant mural on the wall of the gym he had asked Wes to paint.

“Why doesn’t Capri help him?” I stiffened at Lennon’s suggestion from across the table. “You said she used to paint.”

I shook my head quickly.
No.

“That’s a great idea. Why didn’t I think of that to begin with?” August said throwing his arms up in the air.

“No, no, no,” I said waving my own hands out in front of me. Please, no. I couldn’t do this. Not with Wes.

“C’mon, C.” Wes nudged me with his leg under the table. My head snapped in his direction. “You’re a great artist, one of the best I’ve seen.”

My narrowed eyes widened when I saw it. The warmth. It was there again in his eyes. I studied the downturn of their corners while his voice rumbled on. The different shades in his eyes seemed to be in stumbled strokes throughout his irises. Could that be where the warmth came from? Or was it from the way the darkened hues separated, almost like the dry stroke of a brush to allow lighter hues to shine through?

“C?” His voice was softer now, reserved just for me.

“Huh?” I pushed out the question faintly at the touch of his hand on my knee under the table, and I pulled myself from the depths of his eyes.

“Help me out with the mural?” he said giving my knee a small squeeze from where his hand still rested on it.

I should really say no. Decline and make up an excuse why I couldn’t paint with Wes. However, the tenderness in his touch and the encouragement in those damn eyes had the word
yes
tumbling from the forefront of my mind and onto my lips.

“There you are.” A smoky voice stopped me from speaking. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you.”

A tall and slender girl stood at the table just behind Wes. She placed her palm on his shoulder and tossed her corkscrewed hair from her face. She looked wild. I bet Wes liked wild.

I sat back into my chair and turned back toward the group for the first time since I’d locked eyes with Wes. The looks on their faces said plenty. Lennon smirked, and I flipped her off. Kensie smiled, and I smiled back. August’s eyebrows disappeared into his hairline, and I stuck my tongue out at him.

“I wanted to tell you that the tattoo you did for me last week is healing nicely,” the girl’s smoky voice purred across the wooden tabletop. I was sure I could have hidden the disgusted grunt that came from my chest, but I didn’t.

“Oh yeah? Is it looking good?” Wes asked excitedly and almost innocently. I could have held back the curl of my lips, but I didn’t. He wasn’t stupid. He had to know what she was up to, and he was playing right into her.

“It’s perfect.” She dragged her hand from his shoulder and moved it to the waistline of her jeans. “Come me with to the bathroom, and I’ll show you.” Her fingers gripped onto the button of her jeans.

Absolutely not.

I shoved out of my chair, causing the whole bar to hear the screech. I yanked my white tank down
covering
the button on my jeans and strut my way to the bar. I heard my name called in various ways from various voices, but I didn’t turn back. I wasn’t going to sit by and pretend to ignore Wes and yet another one of his harlots.

I didn’t know why I let his female endeavors get to me, but I did. Time and time again, my heart would cringe and my stomach would turn with the parade of women Wes encountered. One after the other, they’d come and go. Sometimes I wanted to call him out on his impulsive conduct, and other times I wanted to shout at the harlots to treat him with a little respect. Every time, though, I bit back the words and pushed them back down into my chest.

I sat down at one of the stools and waited for the bartender’s attention. “Be with you in a sec, beautiful.” He winked at me and continued to attend to the customers before me.

He was a handsome guy, gorgeous actually. He was tall with mocha-colored skin and a closely shaved head. He and I had gone out a few times, but we were at two very different places in our lives. Did I mention he was ten years older than I was? Yeah, it didn’t work out well when I was twenty-one and he was thirty-one. Wes was much closer to my age, still older, but we had a lot in common.
Stop thinking about Wes
.

“Can I buy you a drink?” I turned to politely decline but changed my mind when I saw the guy asking me. He was hot with intentionally disheveled hair and a boyish smile that held a small gap between his teeth.

“Sure, thanks,” I replied sticking out my hand. “I’m Capri.”

“I’m Shane. Nice to meet you, Capri.” He smiled and turned to the bartender who’d made his way back over to us. “I’ll take another Guinness, and the lady will have—” He turned to me.

“A Cosmo, please,” I told the bartender even though he already knew my drink.

“Thank you,” I told Shane. We spent the next twenty minutes or so getting to know each other. He was a junior at SDSU, majoring in Kinesiology. He had no tattoos, didn’t use one swear word, and never once did another female approach him. Perfect. After exchanging numbers, we said our good-byes and I went back to my friends.

Kensie was nowhere in sight, which could only mean she was somewhere on the dance floor. Thankfully, August hadn’t followed and sat in her vacated seat talking with Lennon. His dancing was equivalent to a baby giraffe taking its first wobbly steps—so awkward it was sweet.

“Where’s your lady friend?” I asked Wes, pulling my hair over one shoulder and slipping into my chair. I was surprised to see him still in his place at the table. I’d expected him to disappear with the tatted twat.

“My customer?” He folded his arms across his chest. “She left.”

I nodded and took a sip of the water I’d brought back from the bar with me.

“I told her that I’d take her word for it.”

“Her word for what?” I spun my straw through the softened edges of the ice.

“That her tattoo had healed okay. I didn’t let her show me her goodies.” He shrugged one shoulder and looked off toward the dance floor.

I nodded.

“So, you gonna do this mural with me?” he asked, suddenly sitting up and resting his elbows on his knees. The new position had him invading a quadrant of my space. I sat back initially, but then his scent of sandalwood and beer beckoned me closer. The notes of the fragrance reached out and dragged their fingers under my chin, pulling me in closer to him.

“No,” I said, less determined than I’d wanted to sound.

With that, Wes sat back into his chair retreating from my space and pulling his scent with him. With the release of the invisible tie, I snapped back into my own chair.

“I knew you’d turn it down.” Wes shrugged. “Just thought I’d ask one more time to make sure.”

“What do you mean you knew I’d turn it down?” He irritated the hell out of me. “I don’t even paint. Of course, I’d turn it down.” I scoffed at him and pushed my water away.

“So maybe you don’t paint anymore,” he said, “but you used to, and you loved it.”

He was right. I did love to paint. There wasn’t any other thing in the world that filled me when I needed to be full or drained me when I needed to be emptied. My time with paper and a brush had become sacred and private. Bringing anyone into that part of me, especially Wes, was a bit unsettling and completely frightening.

“You don’t want to, you don’t want to. I won’t push you. I’d hoped you’d be up for the challenge, but I kinda knew you’d rather sit back and look pretty.”

Those were his parting words to me before he stood up and swiftly strode out the door.
Jackass.

O
ne hundred and one, one hundred and two, one hundred and three, okay lies. This counting thing to fall asleep didn’t work for shit. Maybe I went wrong at the rhinos? I mean, a guy like me didn’t count sheep, but these rhinos hadn’t made me the least bit sleepy either.

I sat up and swung my feet over the side of the bed. Resting my elbows on my knees, my head fell into my palms. It was not the damn rhinos. It was the little blonde that I practically begged to paint this mural with me.

I’d known only two things for sure in this world. One was that life changed, and the other was that I didn’t beg. Ever. So, I’d recently added a third to that list. Capri was an anomaly. I didn’t know what was going on lately. I didn’t know if it was a change in me or a change in her, but it was as obvious as a hooker on a street corner that I wanted her. That was probably a bad comparison. In fact, there was no comparison because I’d never felt this way before.

A knock sounded on my front door. Who in the name of Uncle Jesse could that be? “Ugh,” I grumbled, pulling on my sweats and flipping on the hall light. Bright. Why? Why were lights so bright?

I grabbed my sunglasses from their place next to my front door and slid them on then opened the door.

“Hey, Wes.” Jessica stood at my door in her bright pink pajama dress thingy. It was so bright, and kinda slutty actually. White would be so much more classy. Capri liked white.