Poison: Devil's Rose MC #4

Chapter 17: Dakota Knight

I place the grocery bags on the floor right in front of the door as I grab my keys out of my purse. I warned Antonio about the disaster that is my small apartment, and he said he didn't mind, but I don't think he fully understands the situation. 

When he was talking about me making my living space look like a tornado came through, he's not kidding. It can get bad. 

Right now, since I haven't had any guests, and him wanting to come over was a complete surprise to me, it's not guest-ready to put it lightly. Now, I throw away trash and food and do the dishes. 

But my paints are everywhere, clothes are in all the wrong places, I haven't dusted in about two weeks or vacuumed, and uh, I'm not exactly known for having a clean bathroom. There are makeup and hair brushes and clean tampons/pads all over the counter. So he's not prepared for this.

As we walk into my messy apartment, he doesn't even hesitate or blink at the mess. Instead, he starts unloading the groceries and putting them in the fridge, purposefully leaving me with a chance to clean up anything he doesn't want me to see beyond what he already has. 

I love this man. 

I frantically run into the restroom, putting everything away that I possibly can, and run into my bedroom to put away any underwear or bras that he doesn't need to see. At least not quite yet. 

Out of breath but relieved, I make my way back to the kitchen where he stands, sipping on a glass of orange juice like he owns the place.

"Better?"

"Yes, thank you."

"Of course. Do you want to do something?"

"I don't have anything in mind."

"Can I see your paintings?"

Without thinking about what I had just painted a day ago or whatever, I say sure, guiding him into the back room. I open the door, not realizing what he's about to walk into, and that's when he stops. 

I'm confused for a moment and that's when it hits me. His eyes. I painted his fucking eyes. Damn it, Dakota.

"I'm flattered."

I want to crawl in a hole and die.

"You weren't supposed to see that."

"It could be worse, right? At least it's not nude."

He finally turns to me, his eyes soft.

"Oh, god. I'm so so sorry. I promise I'm not creepy."

"Hey, hey, hey. I don't think it's creepy. It's beautiful. Thank you."

"But I-I don't-I don't even-I didn't mean-"

"Take a deep breath, sweetheart."

"I feel like such a dumbass."

"Please don't. I love it. It's perfect. They do match my eyes. You did that freehand?"

"I did, yeah. I'm glad you aren't freaking out about it."

"I wish you would stop freaking out about it. It's amazing. I promise I love it."

I scrunch my nose, staring down at the floor as I run my hands through my hair. He chuckles at me before stepping further into the room and gazing wide-eyed at my artwork.

"Holy shit, Dakota."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. You're fucking talented."

"You think so? Thank you. I appreciate it."

Antonio doesn't say another word, making his way outside the room and taking my hand in his. I guide him outside to the small porch that I have, desperate for fresh air, even if it feels like a hundred degrees outside.