Forbidden Love
Butterfly. (10th Chapter)
…In the Evening…
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Evelyn's POV:
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I spent all of my day choosing an outfit for tomorrow’s reception. Even though I have confirmed to Harry that I have something to wear, I haven’t chosen one of the many clothes I have. I made sure to call my mother and tell her about tomorrow; she was more thrilled than she was on my marriage day. I could never seem to understand her character, but all I know is that a person gets one mother to keep; and she’s all I got. She isn’t my mother only; she’s the one friend that I ever had.
We might not get along together, but when we sit and discuss issues; we reach an agreement instantly. I guess the other factor that played a role on making me close to my mother, is that she isn’t a lot older than I am. She’s practically 31, which is a tiny age difference compared to the one Desmond and I share. Speaking of my loyal husband, he had arrived in the late afternoon.
When he came to sit and relax with me, his attempt failed since he received numerous emails from the firm. As much as Desmond loves his job, he respects me equally. I assured him that I wouldn’t mind if he worked in the office, since he’d at least be at home. He promised to make it up for me, as he went to solve the knots of his legal cases.
I grew up loving the luxury life, the paper pills that grant you anything you buy, the amazing service that you receive from the employees that work under your hand. But as much as this sounds great, I hate the feeling of loneliness. It scares me when I’m alone, I don’t find breathing easier; when I am the only human around. But who and where would I possibly go to? Wait… If my memory serves me right, Harry did mention that he’d be in his room, if I needed anything.
Instantly I stand up on my heels, walking through the large hallway, which leads to his room. I hammer my knuckles on the door, receiving a ‘come in’ phrase. His back is facing me, his hands holding out a brush, while the other fists a pad of paint. I give myself slow seconds to scan him at his work, admiring how his shirt is covered with paint strikes. The way he stands signifies shimmery and delicate stillness.
Once the door shuts behind me, he turns around and stares into my eyes. “(He speaks out of calm shock, clearly not expecting me) I thought you’re Mrs. Higgins or one of the housekeepers. May I help you with something, Evelyn?” I shake my head, giving him a smile, before shifting my eyes at the painting he’s working on. “(I walk closer, while talking) What are you working on?” His smile grows, while he places his brush between his teeth; holding it still.
“A true artist could never reveal his/her masterpiece, until its completed.” I roll my eyes at his joking words, gaining a light chuckle from him. “May I?” I ask him, as my hand reaches to grab the brush from his mouth. He nods slowly, staring at me while his teeth loosen their grip around the brush, allowing me to take it off. I dip the brush in his paint pad, drawing something small in the far end of the unfinished portrait. “What are you doing?” He laughs excitedly, while I smirk before replying: “I was once told, that a true artist never reveals her/his masterpiece, until its completed.”
His laughter increases, causing me to giggle a little; before handing him the brush back. He narrows his eyes to stare at what I have done, then looks at me in awe. “Is that a little butterfly?” I nod, shying my face like a teenager; this is weird. I suddenly feel something cold and liquid-y, touching my cheek, and once I look up; I yell as if the world has ended in a disaster.“What have you done!?”
I try pushing myself away, before Harry stroked more paint on my face. With each step backwards, Harry approached me; teasing me with the brush head dripping with paint. “Harry please, not my face.” He smirks at my words, walking closer until his chest touches mine. “(He whispers challengingly) Where would you like it?”
.........................
Evelyn's POV:
.........................
I spent all of my day choosing an outfit for tomorrow’s reception. Even though I have confirmed to Harry that I have something to wear, I haven’t chosen one of the many clothes I have. I made sure to call my mother and tell her about tomorrow; she was more thrilled than she was on my marriage day. I could never seem to understand her character, but all I know is that a person gets one mother to keep; and she’s all I got. She isn’t my mother only; she’s the one friend that I ever had.
We might not get along together, but when we sit and discuss issues; we reach an agreement instantly. I guess the other factor that played a role on making me close to my mother, is that she isn’t a lot older than I am. She’s practically 31, which is a tiny age difference compared to the one Desmond and I share. Speaking of my loyal husband, he had arrived in the late afternoon.
When he came to sit and relax with me, his attempt failed since he received numerous emails from the firm. As much as Desmond loves his job, he respects me equally. I assured him that I wouldn’t mind if he worked in the office, since he’d at least be at home. He promised to make it up for me, as he went to solve the knots of his legal cases.
I grew up loving the luxury life, the paper pills that grant you anything you buy, the amazing service that you receive from the employees that work under your hand. But as much as this sounds great, I hate the feeling of loneliness. It scares me when I’m alone, I don’t find breathing easier; when I am the only human around. But who and where would I possibly go to? Wait… If my memory serves me right, Harry did mention that he’d be in his room, if I needed anything.
Instantly I stand up on my heels, walking through the large hallway, which leads to his room. I hammer my knuckles on the door, receiving a ‘come in’ phrase. His back is facing me, his hands holding out a brush, while the other fists a pad of paint. I give myself slow seconds to scan him at his work, admiring how his shirt is covered with paint strikes. The way he stands signifies shimmery and delicate stillness.
Once the door shuts behind me, he turns around and stares into my eyes. “(He speaks out of calm shock, clearly not expecting me) I thought you’re Mrs. Higgins or one of the housekeepers. May I help you with something, Evelyn?” I shake my head, giving him a smile, before shifting my eyes at the painting he’s working on. “(I walk closer, while talking) What are you working on?” His smile grows, while he places his brush between his teeth; holding it still.
“A true artist could never reveal his/her masterpiece, until its completed.” I roll my eyes at his joking words, gaining a light chuckle from him. “May I?” I ask him, as my hand reaches to grab the brush from his mouth. He nods slowly, staring at me while his teeth loosen their grip around the brush, allowing me to take it off. I dip the brush in his paint pad, drawing something small in the far end of the unfinished portrait. “What are you doing?” He laughs excitedly, while I smirk before replying: “I was once told, that a true artist never reveals her/his masterpiece, until its completed.”
His laughter increases, causing me to giggle a little; before handing him the brush back. He narrows his eyes to stare at what I have done, then looks at me in awe. “Is that a little butterfly?” I nod, shying my face like a teenager; this is weird. I suddenly feel something cold and liquid-y, touching my cheek, and once I look up; I yell as if the world has ended in a disaster.“What have you done!?”
I try pushing myself away, before Harry stroked more paint on my face. With each step backwards, Harry approached me; teasing me with the brush head dripping with paint. “Harry please, not my face.” He smirks at my words, walking closer until his chest touches mine. “(He whispers challengingly) Where would you like it?”
Notes
Two more chapters coming right up, just:
KEEP READING ANGELS <3 :D xx
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This is amazing :) you are an amazing writer ^_^ very different, yet very clever :D
3/29/15