The brush moved slowly over the canvas, creating lines of dark gray, light gray, and white. The lines swayed in and out, up and down. The motion mesmerized her until the paint told her where it needed to go. Macie didn’t see anything except where to next. She added lines and dots of crimson sporadically. Dabs of white also filled space she felt were empty. She stepped back, viewing the small portion of canvas she’d covered. Haunted faces gazed back at her, into her. She took another step away from the painting and their gazes only intensified. Frozen. In hell. Unable to move. Their mouths were open, screaming in a silence so powerful Macie felt it in her stomach. She stepped back again, her bare back hitting the door.
Violent pounding vibrated the wood at her back and Macie jumped, pulling her headphones free from her ears.
“Macie,” Zac shouted through the thin wood. “Macie, are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” Macie shouted back. She reached for the door, only remembering her lack of clothes a second before she opened it. “Just...” She glanced around her messy apartment for something to throw on. “Give me a second.” Or two. Why is he so damn early? She found an old Saints football jersey and a pair of black shorts. “Hold on,” she added as she brushed her hair back with her fingers. Good enough. I’ll take a shower after he leaves. She opened the door to a very irritated Zac.
“You’re not ready?” He stepped into the apartment without waiting for an invitation. Very un-Zac-like. “What happened here?”
“I’ve got plenty of time to get ready,” Macie snapped. She wasn’t in the mood for Zac to bring back the bully he harbored inside. “What’re you doing here already?”
“It’s two-fifteen.” He turned to face her, his gaze drifting down her body.
She opened her mouth to call him out on his obvious gawking when what he said registered. “Two-fifteen? Shit.” She grabbed her phone, seeing several missed calls from Zac and a few not-so-nice texts. “Shit. Shit. Shit.” He’d been outside for fifteen minutes. “I... Fuck. I need to take a quick shower.”
“Hurry up.” Zac stared at the painting, at the faces she’d painted. “I’ll wait,” he said in a much softer tone.
Macie didn’t hesitate. She rushed into the bathroom and scrubbed the paint from her body. Hurrying as fast as she could, she braided her long hair while it was still wet and lined her eyes in black. There wasn’t enough time for full makeup. There was barely enough time for her to get... Shit. Her clothes were in the armoire in the front. She reached for her thin satin robe, a stupid buy when she was drunk one night. Robes had never been necessary, even in the dorm. Macie preferred throwing on a tank and shorts after a shower. But she didn’t have those, either. She tied it around her waist, aware that the thin material would show her nipples the minute the colder air of the apartment hit her. She sucked in her stomach and opened the door, walking toward her armoire like a runway model.
“Wha—” Zac began, cutting himself off.
Macie glanced at him with a raised brow. Zac’s mouth stayed opened and Macie pursed her lips to keep from smiling. Her stomach flipped from the way his eyes traveled to her bare legs. Macie had never been ashamed of her body, never tried to hide it. But she never pranced around half naked, either. Well, not unless she was painting, but that was more about saving her clothes than anything else. Exhibitionism wasn’t normally in her nature. At least not until she saw the way Zac’s gaze caressed her. She stopped beside the armoire, bending at the waist to reach the drawer where she kept her bra and panties. With careful deliberation, she pulled out a black lace thong and matching bra, not bothering to hide them from Zac’s prying eyes. His sharp inhale told her she’d made the right choice.
She opened the top door, reaching for her favorite jeans until her gaze spotted a purple galaxy skater skirt hanging in the corner. The matching elbow length gloves were in another drawer. It was something she’d worn a few months ago, but a style she’d all but abandoned once she started at the station. Not that it was work appropriate even on the most casual dress day. This night was about celebrating Ford and Lauren. She didn’t want to pretend to be someone she wasn’t. Not tonight. Not ever. She grabbed the skirt and a black tank, rushing to the bathroom to change. When she stepped back into the living room, she felt more like herself than she had in a long time.
“You look great,” Zac said as he stood. “And normal.”
“I didn’t look normal before?” Macie stalked passed him, not entirely sure she liked his comment. Yeah, he said she looked good, but what the hell did normal mean? She opened the drawer in her computer desk and slipped on the gloves.
“You looked ... different.” Zac shoved his hands in his pockets, rocking back on his heels. “Not like the Macie I’ve known for four years.”
“Is that a bad thing?” She turned to face him.
“No, but it...” He pulled one hand free and ran his hand through his hair. She took a moment to check him out. In her rush to get ready, she hadn’t noticed that his standard polo shirt had been replaced by a black button-down shirt covered with a tight-fitting vest. A black tie rounded out his new look. “I don’t want to fight.”
Macie smiled. “I don’t want to, either. I just...” She sighed and closed the distance between them. Gazing into his eyes, she opened her heart and her mouth. “I just really wanted to know what you’re thinking.”
“That’s dangerous ground for us.” A corner of his mouth lifted.
“True.” Macie stepped back.
