Distastefully In Love

Chapter 12: The Nothing's Kiss

"You seem to know a lot about all this stuff..." he muses, looking at the brunette instead of the painting. He has been doing that a lot.

She catches his gaze, "I took an art history class..." she explains.

"Oh? I didn't know that was a requirement for a law degree?" his statement mocks her. His words cause a grimace on her face.

"It's not. I took it because...I was curious," her eyes travel to the painting once more. "It was interesting."

"And what about law? Is that interesting?" he actually sounds genuine.

"Some of it," she admits, her copper irises staring at the floor. "Some of it's not."

"So, why not pursue something that fully captivates you?"

"For one thing, I'm kind of too far in to quit now," she begins to walk to another painting. Toby syncs his steps with hers. "I don't really have a chose anymore..." her words fade out into silence.

"I think we always have a chose."

Her brown eyes flick to his azure ones. She feels that urge again. The urge she got the night of the concert. Something inside her desires his lips—the feeling, the taste, everything. Her eyes involuntary peek at his lips for a second.

She snaps out of it, and looks away.

"Why do you care so much?" she asks, in a not-so-civil way.

He shrugs, his hands burying in his pockets. "I just remember things."

"What things?"

"You said once that you didn't want to become a lawyer—to follow in the family business," he recounts, sheepishly.

A questionable glimmer twinkles in her eyes, almost an awe look. "You remember that?" she gapes.

He looks away, "mmm, I remember a lot of things."

She continues to gape at him. He stands with his hands in his pockets, and head bowed down, recounting things she said over five years ago. It doesn't feel like the same Toby Cavanaugh who picks on her, and whom she used to despise. Still despises? (No.) Has feelings for? (Yes.)

"Well, that was a long time ago..." she finally breathes out, gathering her confidence from its shattering. "Things change," she explains. "People change..." she goes on, not really knowing what context she is talking in anymore. "Feelings change..." she releases, aligning her gaze with his, "ya know?" the words nervously ride from her tongue.

He nods, a tender smile rising on his face.

"Sometimes...you hate something, and then you...like it." She is no longer talking about being a lawyer.

They stare at each other for a long time before he speaks, "I agree...but...if being a lawyer isn't what you want to do—if it doesn't make you happy—you shouldn't be doing it..." he waits a second to continue, "you should do what you want to do."

All she wants to do right now is to shut him up. For this talk of happiness and dreams to end. And she wants her lips to be the reason for the hiatus of conversation. She wants to slam her body into his, wrap her arms around him, feel the muscle that covers his build. She wants him.

But she has never been one to follow her dreams.

She steps away, looking at the painting. If she can't use her lips to divert the conversation, she can use her words.

She begins to talk about the painting, and Toby pitches in his own thoughts about it, letting the conversation of before go awry.

...