The Anatomy of Emotion

Chapter Nine

August—Los Angeles

When Maeva's eyes flutter open to excruciating sunlight, she doesn't quite remember where she is. Her head is hammering a mile a minute, her mouth is dry and her body is sore. There is a plate bearing a balled paper wrapper and traces of salt on the bedside table. Her cell phone is face up on the carpet below. She looks at herself, at the white tee shirt swallowing her frame, and then her eyes come to the name scrawled artfully across her arm.

Corin

Everything from last night clicks into place, and a new wave of pain comes to her head. She groans.

"Hello there. Finally awake?" Corin comes into her field of vision, shirtless and smiling and far too bright for the level of alcohol he had consumed last night.

"No," Maeva moans, turning away from the open window, "make it stop."

"Oh, I'm sorry," he closes the curtains and kneels beside her, brushing her hair from her face, "do you want painkillers? I went and got some this morning."

"Dear god yes," she eases herself into a sitting position and rubs her temples. Her eyes scan him, the drawings on his skin, pop wide when they go above his shoulder, "oh fuck, your neck."

His hand comes up and traces the blackening splashes all over the right side of his throat.

"Yes, thank you for this, I'm going to be mobbed by my groupies about it later."

Her apology dies in her throat, "good, they should learn you're not just a play toy for them, that you actually have your own love life."

Corin laughs and bustles around the room, coming back with far more than just pills. He also brings two bottles, a coffee cup and a paper pastry bag. All of the things get spread out on the bed, and he hands them to her in succession. She drinks the water, chucks down the two pills he offers, chugs a bottle of coconut water, and then he offers her the coffee cup alongside a savory pastry.

"Peppermint tea for your stomach, and this is apparently called a fold over, but it's a croissant with egg and spinach in it," Corin inspects it.

Maeva sighs, already feeling her body lighten, "how can you be so wonderful this hungover?"

She nibbles at her pastry, carefully chasing every bite with a sip of tea. Her stomach takes it better than she expects.

"For starters, I'm not as hungover as you are," he smiles and kisses her nose, "second, getting over hangovers quickly is my job."

She rolls her eyes and watches him get up and stretch, studying the whale along his side. It isn't bad in the light of day either, perhaps a little bit wobbly in places. Her smile deepens as she finishes her breakfast and lays back down, waiting to feel better. It happens in about twenty minutes, while she listens to Corin brush his teeth and chatter at Alex over the phone. She rolls over to see him as he looks for his wallet under the bed.

"Are you on your way out?"

"Alex's on his way to get me, he said he was about twenty minutes out," he stands, "is that alright? I figured you would want to cut this off pretty soon after last night."

She smiles at him, "that's actually perfect. I can leave around the same time. Do you need your shirt back?"

"Alex is bringing me one. Keep it," Corin pauses and picks her hair ribbon up off the floor, "speaking of, can I have this?"

"Sure," Maeva sits up and tugs him over. They both watch as she ties the ribbon just below the faded one from last time.

Her lips brush both, and then they release a squeak as he brings her down to bed with him. She laughs and arches into his sweet, light kisses. Everything here is perfect, easy. He is kissing her and holding her now, and in twenty minutes, he will kiss her again, slip into a car, and go back to his life. She will drive back to the black gallery and go on with hers. Easy. She smiles again as he pulls away.