"we fell in love the way you fall in leaves."
Juwan "Rocky" Rockwell has had a pretty hard life. Between trying to find a way to fend for himself and dealing with the normal hardships of teenage angst, he had nowhere to turn as an adolescent and no...
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"heart in darkness"
It was the night of my third art show.
Some dude was trying to convince me to come out to London. He was the former "manager" for Violet that claimed that he'd been watching me move independently for a while now. He said he could take me to the next level.
I really wasn't tryin' to hear that shit. For one, he was blocking my view of the entrance, which was beginning to irritate me. Secondly, the shit he was spewing sounded like a bunch of Hollywood talk, and I knew that he was exactly what he was doing— all talk.
I wanted to tell him to fuck off, but I figured I'd entertain the conversation. Besides, I didn't know who he knew, and if I said the wrong thing to him, he could shut me out from opportunities the same way Violet was before she died. That was the last thing I needed right now.
Quinn had just left to go home only about fifteen minutes ago. I was surprised that she even lasted here for as long as she did. Although my attention was divided between patrons and the people who were entering the gallery, I witnessed her beginning to run up the walls.
She was bored out of her mind, and I couldn't blame her. She'd been restless for a while now, and it wasn't just because of the still-life paintings.
I found myself growing restless as well, once she made her exit, but it was for a completely different reason, and pretty soon, my reason arrived.
Ava had waltzed in. Her hair of wine was elegantly curled and pinned while her pine colored dress not only did her curves wonders but complemented her skin beautifully. It made the fire in her eyes pop as well as her chocolate lipstick. It was something about her being surrounded by art that took my breath away— something about her looking like she belonged amongst the imaginative takes on love and life that warmed my soul and turned my heart to syrup.
I was relieved to see her. I'd been keeping my eyes peeled all night, beginning to lose hope on whether she'd appear or not. I was glad that she did though, a smile sliding onto my face as I watched her take a glass of champagne from one of the floating platters. Her eyes danced along the room, and when they landed on me, a light flickered in them.
I felt tingles that stretched from the depths of my being to the tips of my fingers. I cracked my knuckles to ease the sudden anxiousness that multiplied within. I nodded in greeting. She only cracked a small smile, taking her precious time in strutting toward me.
Her smooth legs of light cinnamon and honey carried her through the crowd, her hypnotic eyes capturing the overhead illumination of the gallery. I felt light as a feather just watching her float over, the despair that my inner demons brought on being lifted more and more the closer she drew.
"Don't get too happy," were the first words to escape her lips. That was the moment I realized how broadly I was smiling. I attempted to ease my grin down to something on a smaller scale but only failed as our arms stretched around each other.
