HeartBreaker | Book 1

The HeartBreaker

Chapter Twenty-Eight

The HeartBreaker

Saturday morning, I take a bus down to Desirae's neighbourhood.

I'm glad I can finally see her after a week apart. Especially since there was so much animosity in the air after our little disagreement.

Though I regret the way I lashed out at her for not telling me her plans to move to another state, I don't regret my feelings over the matter, which haven't changed the slightest.

I still don't want Desirae to move and if she asks, I won't be afraid to tell her how I feel about it.

I'm still not willing to let her go and if telling her that makes me a jerk; so be it.

I didn't come here to fight; I came here to try and convince Desirae to stay, because from what I've gathered; I need her.

I knock on her door, not feeling as nervous as I thought I would. I'm focused; standing somewhere between rage and serenity.

Her grandmother answers the door and embraces me in a tight hug.

"Desirae's in her studio," she says.

I make my way to the room when Desirae's grandmother grabs hold of my arm.

"Christopher... I see the way you look at her... the same way my dear old Benjamin used to look at me..."

Is this old lady saying that I'm in love with Desirae?

Well, I do love her, that's for sure, but to be in love?

Honestly, I don't think I'm there yet, but I respect the elderly too much to say that to her face.

"An old lady is never wrong about love, Chris," she says wisely, looking into my eyes as if she can see my past, present and future.

I nod as she slowly releases my arm and watches me approach Desirae's studio.

I knock and there's no answer. I open the door and walk in slowly.

The studio is certainly a lot messier than last time, paint splatters on the timber floor, scrunched up papers on the floor and discarded paintbrushes in every corner of the room.

There are new additional paintings that I haven't seen before; each as breathtaking as the next.

I close the door behind me and my eyes are immediately drawn to a beautiful white and gold clay sculpture that much resembles Desirae. It looks like something you'd find in an Italian cathedral. 

In the centre of the room was a large canvas on an easel, behind it stood Desirae, painting.

Though I could only see her legs.

"Uh... Desirae!" I call.

She moves away from the canvas, revealing her face.

She takes her headphones out, "Oh hey Chris, sorry I didn't hear you come in."

She approaches me and gives me a warm hug.

She smells of acrylic paint and hard work.

"What's all this?" I ask, "later," she dismisses.

She washes her hands in a nearby sink and pushes her hair back. I've missed everything about her beautiful face.

Her golden brown skin, her freckles around her nose that are coincidently the same colour as her ginger afro and her iridescent emerald green eyes that make me fall in love with her, time and time again.