Vera's POV
"Let's go to my place, I want to show you something," Colin says, after we've made love in the parking lot of Levi Stadium. We're both reclined in the front seats of my Honda, and I'm trying to catch my breath. Colin is a sex machine.
"Your house or the apartment?" I ask, trying to breath evenly.
"My house."
Pulling out toward the main road leading to the freeway I try to pinpoint the directions to his house by memory. I hadn't been there since I stormed out on him because of Lauren's naked text messages. That all seemed so long ago now.
By the time we hit the freeway Colin's fast asleep. I run a hand along his arm, he must be so tired from practice. Taking the exit for his house, I drive up a familiar hill towards rolling hills with mansions littering each one. Colin's is the beautiful brick one, I could never forget it.
"89567," he says, waking up right as we approach the gate. He reaches a hand over to stroke my cheek as I pull up the hill to park next to his jaguars.
"Let's go baby girl, I got something to show you," he says, excitedly jumping out of the passenger seat. He's in the house before I even unbuckle my seatbelt. That's weird. Stepping out of the car I'm careful not to open the door into his jaguar. I head over to the house, letting myself in.
"Colin?" I call. He's nowhere to be seen in the living room, kitchen, or main entrance.
"I'm over here baby girl!" He yells. I follow his voice down a long hall towards a door leading into the garage. Music starts to play loudly, from behind the garage door. The garage is cavernous, and to my surprise, empty. The entire ground is covered in a dark gray tarp, and there are numerous buckets of open paint in the middle. I look towards Colin, who's using a remote to control the music playing from a large speaker in a corner of the garage.
"Ummm, what is this?" I ask, completely perplexed. Colin comes over to me, and wraps me in an apron.
"You're an undercover artist. I saw that when I read your journal. I want to see what you can do," he says simply, grabbing my hand and leading me to the center of the room.
"Colin...." I'm at a loss for words. "I can't.... you don't want me to ruin your garage do you!?" I exclaim. Colin holds a finger up to my mouth, silencing me.
"I said, I want to see what you can do," he smiles, handing me several paintbrushes. "I'll be painting too baby girl, no worries," he winks at me.
I feel overwhelmed. My love for drawing, for art, has always been something I kept to myself. I've always wanted the opportunity to paint openly without boundaries, just like this. Reaching for a bucket of bright blue, I dip a paintbrush in. Colin's already started painting. He's in the middle of painting a lopsided stick figure with a smiley face.
"See baby girl, you ain't the only artist up in here!"
I laugh at him, and turn to face a wall, letting the paint flow freely from my hand. After going back and forth from the center of the wall to different paint buckets, I realize exactly what I want to paint. I bring the buckets of colors I need to the wall I'm working on, and let my vision direct my hand. Sweat drips down the bridge of my nose but I can't stop painting, my hands won't let me. I'm not sure how much time goes by until I feel Colin come beside me. We both step back. My wrists aching, but I'm so pleased with the finished product.
On the wall is a painting of Colin and I, holding each other under the moonlight. Around us are stars, of all colors, and orbs of bright lights, just like the ones that decorated the coaches' dinner. I watch Colin; afraid of how he's going to react. Does he like it?
"I love it," he says, pulling me close to him. He holds my face gently in his paint stained hands, and kisses me. After he pulls away he grabs my hands, dancing along to Michael Jackson's voice coming through the speaker.
Baby, love never felt so good. And I doubt it ever could, not like you hold me, hold me....
He spins me in a circle, singing along to Michael. I laugh, moving along with him, waving my arms in the air and shaking my hips. He spins and does a quick Michael Jackson kick while I laugh. He pulls me back against him and we hold each other, paint all over us, as Michael sings about love.
After our painting adventure, we lie in the middle of the garage, covered in paint.
"Vera?" he asks.
"Yes?"
"Let's run away."
I laugh out loud. "I wish that were an option."
"Me too."
"What do you want to do after football?"
"Uh, I never really had the chance to think that far. But I want kids. Lots of kids, the whole white picket fence thing." My stomach lurches at his words.
"You really love kids huh?"
"Yeah, I do. But not as much as I love you."
I sit up at those three words. I love you. Colin sits up next to me. I look up at him with wide eyes.
"Do you mean that Colin?" He reaches forward to hold my hand, his face serious.
"For the first time in my life, I mean those three words." My heart swells at his confession, tears blurring my vision.
"Baby girl, please don't cry. I'll never say it again, I promise," he jokes. I laugh as he holds my face up to him.
"I love you too," I say quietly. Colin reaches over to hold me, and we enjoy the rest of the night together dancing and splashing each other with paint. My heart soars for love, but aches as I wonder if he'll retract his words when he finds out I can't have children.