part two
It was three days before I saw Louis again. I was leaving a meeting with a publisher, feeling somewhat giddy. Things had gone very well for me, so I seemed somewhat… energetic when I ran into him unexpectedly in the reception area of the publisher’s office.
He spotted me before I knew he was in the vicinity (though how he managed that, I have yet to figure out. I supposed I’d pick up on his energy when he was around again) and tapped me on the shoulder as I bounced on my heels while waiting for the receptionist to copy my contracts.
I started, turning swiftly as shock swam through my veins. My eyes widened at the sight of him; I couldn’t fathom what he’d be doing in a publisher’s office, and the t-shirt he’d chosen that morning gave me a better outline of his frame than the jacket he’d been wearing the day I met him.
“Hello again,” he said, his eyes twinkling.
“Hi… what are you doing here?” I asked, confusion and delight in my expression.
“Observing the business. However, I am almost done, and running into you has made me decide to wrap up early. Would you care to have lunch with me?”
I gaped at him for a second, then answered quickly, “Sure! I just have to get my copies…” as the receptionist handed me the paperwork.
“Thank you, Miss Hallstrep. Rancing is excited to have your work again,” the receptionist said politely.
I nodded my thanks to her and turned back to Louis. “Well, it seems I’m done.”
Louis nodded, his ever present smile twitching his lips, and peered around me to the receptionist. “Thank you for allowing me to observe today; I’m all done.”
“Yes, Mr. Van Kasteel. Have a wonderful afternoon,” she answered, smiling at him.
Louis placed a hand on my back and guided me out of the office and onto the sidewalk in the bright sunshine. “Do you have a preference?” he asked.
“Um…” I said, chewing my lip and looking around at the different restaurants on the block, “Something light?”
He chuckled and led me down the sidewalk. “So you never told me… where is your home?” he asked as we walked.
“Oh, I’m from Seattle. I travel a lot, so I don’t technically have a home, but for holidays, I go to Seattle.”
“That’s where your family is?” he asked interestedly.
“You could say that…” I answered.
Louis raised an eyebrow and asked, “What else could I say?” his grin twitching again.
I rolled my eyes and teased back, saying, “You could say something about yourself.”
“What would you like to know?” he asked, then stopped in front of a diner, looking up at the sign, then back to me, “Is this ok? They really know how to build a sandwich.”
I nodded and he held the door open for me. We settled in a booth next to a window and gave the smiling waitress our drink orders as we perused the menu. I decided fairly quickly and set my menu aside, then looked over to him. I was able to study the outlines of his face while he looked over the options. He was very symmetrical; I wondered where his imperfections hid. Every piece of his body seemed well pieced together, nicely maintained. No one could be that flawless- outward flaws gave the body character, not to mention I’d never met anyone who hadn’t, at some point in their lives, earned scars, nicks in their skin, bone or muscle damage. He appeared unmarked. How?
“I would like to know if you’ve ever been painted,” I said.
His amused exterior cracked, his face showing surprise at my question. He hesitated for a minute, then said, “That’s an odd question. But no, I’ve never been painted. Why do you ask?”
I blushed and looked down to the table, fiddling with a spoon. “Because… I would like to paint you, if you’re interested.”
I could feel his eyes on me, staring, but I couldn’t bring myself to look up at him to see what those eyes were thinking. I’d never had to ask my subjects to sit for me; they were usually sent by an agency or volunteered for me. And I’d never wanted to paint someone so badly as I wanted to paint him. My mind whispered, “Please say yes… please say yes…”
“Jacqueline.”
I raised my eyes, cheeks flushing a deeper crimson, and just looked at him. His eyes held amusement, curiosity, as I’d known they would, but also a hint of something else… maybe… wanting? The longer I looked into his eyes, the more confident I became that he wanted me to paint him. But after a long minute of hesitation, he still hadn’t answered.
The waitress came back to take our orders, giving me a brief respite from his gaze and his silence. All too quickly, she swept away again, leaving us to our apparent staring match.
He leaned back against the booth and crossed his arms, narrowing his eyes. “I thought you were a photographer,” he finally said, breaking the silence.
“It’s my most common medium, yes, but I’m a jack of all trades,” I said with a slight smile.
His lips turned up again and he chuckled lightly. “Where are your friends today?” he asked, changing the subject.
He dodged. He completely dodged answering me. I felt rejected; the sting of his avoidance started in the pit of my stomach, then worked its way to my brain, making it difficult for me to answer. I looked back down to the table and shuffled my feet. “Maggie is making the arrangements for our next destination… the others are just kind of by- products of Maggie. She’s very charismatic; people clambor for her attention all the time and those guys were just a few examples.”
“So why isn’t she your subject?”
“She has been,” I answered quietly, keeping my eyes on the table, “That’s how she came to work for me. She was sent through an agency and we got along well enough for her to be my assistant. She’s never been safe from any of my ideas.”
Chuckling, he said, “Abuse of power?”
“Ha. No. She’s well aware of what she got herself into.”
His tone turned serious again, and he leaned forward on his elbows, studying my downcast eyes. “What would I be getting myself into?” he asked.
I forced myself to look at his face again, though cautiously. My wrong assumption earlier taught me that I still had plenty to learn about reading his signals. “It would just be posing. I wouldn’t do anything to make you uncomfort-”
“Oh, I’m not worried about you making me uncomfortable. My concern is signing up for posing for you, then have you turn into a tyrant,” he said, amusement in his face again.
I shook my head slowly, our gazes connecting over the table, and I said, “I’m not hard to work for… a bit all over the place sometimes when I get going, but that’s because I can get overwhelmed by ideas…”
His lips twitched again and he nodded. “I see. And when you set off in a flurry, am I going to be expected to keep up without direction?”
I shook my head slowly again, “No.”
He kept his eyes on me a bit longer, then our waitress broke our train of conversation. “All right, here we are…” she said, setting our plates in front of us, “Ya’ll need anything else?” She beamed at us, and we both said, “No, thank you,” and she walked away.
My throat was still tight from his pointed avoidance of a straight answer, and I could only poke at my lunch.
“Zoet, what is wrong?”
I looked up at him again, and was surprised at the concern creasing his face. All of his teasing smile and amusement had been replaced. Now it was my turn to dodge. “What did you say?” I asked.
His expression only changed minutely as he answered, “I asked you what is wrong.”
“No, the very first thing. What was that?”
“Zoet?” he asked, creasing his eyebrows. I nodded.
“It’s the Dutch word for ‘sweet’,” he answered, keeping his eyes on me.
“Oh,” I said and poked at my plate some more.
“Should I not have…” he started.
“Oh, no, no, sorry, it’s ok, really,” I said hurriedly stumbling over myself and shaking my head, “I was just curious.”
He chuckled. “Endearment. Used for signaling friendship, camaraderie, attraction, even.”
His teasing tone had returned and I tried to keep the dejection I was feeling off my face; I didn’t want him to know I was still affected by his pointed omission. I smiled back and said, “I realize that now… but I’m not Dutch, so…” rolling my eyes and forcing food in my mouth.
“You’ve never learned another language?” he asked.
I shrugged. “Never had the time, really. And I tend to have a one- track mind, usually focused on my work. I may sit down and try, but I usually end up getting inspired by something I see.”
“It hasn’t presented problems with travelling?”
“Not really. Usually everywhere I go has a translator if it’s not an English speaking country.”
“Interesting. I’ve found it very helpful to acclimate myself to where I am, as opposed to hoping the area can suit me.”
“I suppose it would be, but my brain doesn’t agree. My brain prefers to be spoiled,” I said, laughing.
He laughed and said, “Well, you wear it well,” picking up his sandwich.
I blushed. I couldn’t wrap my mind around the way this man made me feel… I’d never felt awkward or uncoordinated around anyone. Somehow, with just a compliment as small as that one, Louis could make me blush like a school girl and throw me off balance. A graze of his hand against mine sent electricity through my blood, a hint of smile on his lips made me salivate. This short time in his presence made me feel alive, jittery even.
“You are very modest,” he said suddenly.
I shrugged and smiled at him. “What makes you say that?”
“You blush very easily.”
“Oh. Actually… that’s only with you,” I said, blushing and casting my eyes down again.
“With me?” he asked, the inflection showing surprise, “Why is that?”
“I’m not exactly sure…” I answered slowly.
He chuckled, saying, “It’s good to know that I can have that sort of effect on a woman. Adds to my ‘Casanova’ complex.”
I laughed. “I find it hard to believe you don’t know the effect you have on women.”
His eyes smiled and he responded, “Well, most women I do know. You are a bit… cloudy to read.”
“I was?”
“Are.”
“I am?”
“Yes. You strike me as somewhat sealed off, coolly detached. You have light in your eyes, yet you’re not overly expressive. Figuring you out is a task, let me tell you,” he said, the sides of his lips tugging upwards.
“I’m a task?” I asked, cocking an eyebrow.
“What do you mean?”
I sighed and leaned back in my seat. “Nothing,” I said, abandoning the subject.
“No no no,” he said, shaking his head and pointing his finger at me, “You’re not going to dodge this one.”
“It’s rude to point,” I said, rolling my eyes. He looked down at his finger, then withdrew his hand from the table. “Besides, you dodged, so why can’t I?”
“When did I dodge?” his eyebrows knitted together, and I added another memory to my stores for sketching. Even confusion was beautiful on him.
“When I asked if I could paint you,” I said simply.
“I didn’t dodge that, I’m trying to figure you out, to see if it’s something I want to do.”
“Then why didn’t you just say that?”
He gaped at me for a minute. I was actually kind of amused by his internal struggle for words. I’d caught him off guard. My, how the tables have turned. I softened my expression into a grin and went back to poking my food.
“I… I didn’t want to hurt your feelings. I enjoy being in your company and I didn’t want to risk alienating you,” he said slowly.
I chewed the last bite of my lunch and sat my fork down, blushing again. I reached my hand to his arm on the table and looked at him. “Louis… I’d rather know straight away what you think about sitting for me than sitting here in blind rejection. Next time, just say you want to think about it.”
Louis looked sheepish for a minute, then said, “I’d love to sit for you, Jacqueline…” his voice soft and his eyes burning into me.
My smile was wider than the booth we were in when I said, “Good. You will be a wonderful model.”
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well, it still won't let me put as much as i wanted and i guess i took alot longer getting to the dirty parts, which is why i can't sell this story :/