Together with Emi and Daphne, I exit the banquet hall and venture into the dark parking lot illuminated by tall lampposts, finding Jay, Caleb, Ralph, Nico, and some of their other friends chatting around a group of cars. They’ve all swapped out their formal wear for casual pants and shirts.
Jay straightens from the car he was leaning on as he spots us heading over to them. He’s in a light-pink linen button-up shirt that’s undone almost to his navel, showing off his sculpted chest, which brings a blush to my face as I remember pressing up against it in nothing but my bikini. He looks downright lickable, especially as I feel his heated eyes scan me from the top of my updo to the tips of my Louboutin stilettos, no doubt looking for that panty line I teased him about earlier.
“There you are!” Ralph calls out to the three of us. “Come on, Jada’s throwing a party. There’s a bonfire and everything. Let’s go!”
“Hell yeah!” Emi exclaims, running over. “Which one of you is driving me back to my house so Daph and I can get changed?”
Ralph hooks his arms around Daphne and Emi’s shoulders, leading them away as Jay closes the space between us. Before Emi disappears into Ralph’s vehicle, she glances back at me with a not-so-subtle head nod in Jay’s direction and a wink, a look that says,Drive with him alone!
“You were wearing a red dress the first time we met,” Jay greets me, stopping in front of me. He runs a large, warm hand down my side, leaving tingles in its wake, halting at my hip and giving it a possessive squeeze. His eyes blaze as he admits, “And like that day, you’re so fucking beautiful it’s hard to believe you’re real.”
The admission makes my heart stutter, and I place my arms on his wide shoulders for stability, connecting my hands behind his neck.
“And unlike that day, I don’t have the overwhelming urge to punch you in the face,” I tease as he pulls me closer.
“Give me a couple minutes, I’m sure I can think of something to inspire that urge again.”
“Don’t ruin the moment!” I exclaim as he uses his free hand to tilt my jaw up, his burning gaze sending fire through my veins.
“You started it,” he breathes, his lips skimming mine, an intoxicating anticipation coursing through me.
But before I can feel the tantalizing pressure of his lips that I’m yearning for, a passing car honks, making us jump apart.
Ralph pulls up beside us, all the windows in his car rolled down, with Emi and Daphne in the back seat and a convoy of his friends’ cars behind him.
“Don’t take forever to get to the party,” he calls, sticking his head out the window. “You two grossly cute lovebirds can make out all night, so quit standing around and hurry up and get to Jada’s.”
Emi waggles her eyebrows suggestively from behind him, and Jay answers by giving them both the finger.
“We’ll be waiting!” Ralph yells as he pulls away. The other cars follow, and in the last car is Jay’s best friend Caleb, who waves from the driver’s seat as he passes.
“Sometimes I wonder why I’m friends with him,” Jay jokingly says about Ralph as we watch the last of the red taillights disappear down the street.
“You mean it’s not for his impeccable style?” I ask as we walk through the parking lot to my car, my heels clicking on the asphalt.
“Retro bowling alley carpet chic isn’t really my style. But if you’re into that, I can ask him where he shops.”
My objection is quick. “Don’t you dare!”
When he laughs, I add, “Plus, I’ve really come to enjoy seeing you in your signature color.”
“I have a signature color?”
How does he not know his signature color? Maybe it’s my artist eye picking up on it, or maybe he doesn’t realize he keeps gravitating toward the color pink, but I shake my head instead of answering him.
“Maybe this will help,” I say, pressing the button to open the trunk of my car. “I finished it a few days ago, and I’ve been waiting to give it to you.”
The trunk slowly opens, and my nerves grow more and more intense with each inch it reveals. Doubts cross my mind, but I push them away just as quickly as they pop up.
With hands steadier and more confident than I feel, I reach in and pull out the twelve-by-sixteen canvas, turning it to face him.
He gasps. Like an audible gasp that I’ve never heard from Jay before.
“Carina . . .” He trails off, and I realize I must’ve really caught him off guard because it’s one of the rare times he’s called me by my actual name.
I’m always nervous when sharing my work with others, but it feels more intimate, more nerve-racking when Jay’s gaze glides along canvas, taking in each and every detail of the painting I poured my soul into. Every stroke, every color, every texture is a reflection of my vulnerability and the feelings that I laid bare on the canvas that night he left my house after the video went viral.
It’s a portrait in my contemporary style and limited color palette, and it’s of Jay. He once told me I should paint him because he’s the handsomest guy I know, and I can’t deny that he’s made an incredible subject for this painting. I surprised even myself by conveying his personality and spirit so masterfully in this one still image, or at least, conveying howIsee him.