Chapter 9: Inspiration
All I thought about the remainder of the evening was Annie's words before silence had settled over us like a heavy blanket of fog.
"You just need someone to love." The way she had said it, so matter-of-a-factly made me wonder....wonder...
Was that all I needed? To be loved? A large part of me ached to be loved, like Melodie and Toni had loved Jory, and never me. Even if Toni had once claimed to loving me, it had not been as great love as she felt for Jory.
Annie and I had separated after returning to the hotel. She was a little more silent, as if in deep thought about something serious. I stayed in my room, afraid to go to her. I laid on my bed, staring up at the ceiling. That's when I felt Annie. I can't explain it; I felt her calling to me. I did not see nor hear her, but I knew she needed me. Deep inside, she had already attached herself firmly to me...
I got up and left my room, going to hers. I knocked before I opened the door. She sat in a chair at an easel that was blank, a paintbrush in her hand. Her blue eyes lifted, and I saw awe in her eyes. I was nervous for a moment, unsure of what to say.
"Hi..." I started, as she blinked, looking down at her paints.
"Hi..." she echoed softly, before her eyes raised back up to meet and lock with mine again.
"What are you painting?" I asked.
"Nothing...I have no inspiration," she said, sounding melancholy. I was a bit concerned; she had been so happy and jovial before, had I caused this sullen mood? She must have saw the concern in my eyes when I heard her tone, for gently she smiled.
"Its nothing you did...I get into these melancholy moods sometimes. I don't know why...I guess I take after my father....my real father," she said softly, setting her paints aside.
"Would you like to take an evening walk on the beach? I hear they're selling hotdogs and ice cream out on the beach..." I drifted off. She looked at the clock, looking perplexed for a brief moment.
"I was so occupied with my work that I didn't realize the time. Thanks," she said, smiling at me as she stood. She wore a pair of faded jeans and a white tanktop. Her ebony hair was tied back into a ponytail.
"No problem...let's go before everything gets gone," I said, grabbing her hand and pulling her from her room. I only stopped long enough so she could lock her door.
Soon we were out on the beach, each with a hotdog, that I had insisted on paying for. As we ate, we walked along the beach, throwing crumbs off of our buns to the seagulls. We walked side by side, even though our hands were not touching. She flashed a smile at me and for a moment her face was the only thing I could look at. Then I dropped my hotdog.
She laughed as I looked down at the food that was covered in sand and saltwater. I grimaced a bit.
"Its okay...I wasn't hungry...." I replied, even as she tore hers into half and offered me the other piece. I shook my head and she frowned.
"Bart...." she said, then as my mouth opened to speak, she took the opportunity to put the hotdog in my mouth. I looked at her with surprised eyes, but she just stood there, holding it, feeding me. We devoured what remained and then I felt her drift closer to me, the sun starting to set.
"Oh god that is so beautiful," she said. I turned to look at her, suddenly thinking nothing but her was beautiful. Before I knew what was happening, I had leaned closer to her, until our lips touched. Mine touched hers tentatively at first, then deepened. My eyes closed as my arms eagerly slipped around her, bringing her close to me.
My lips parted and I could taste her as my tongue went to meet hers.
"Annie..."
She gasped slightly and I pulled away, swallowing hard.
"I didn't mean to do that," I muttered. Her face was flushed, her lips parted. Her eyes were wide with surprise.
"Yes you did. Or you wouldn't have done it," she said. I looked at her, terribly uncomfortable.
"Annie …. Please, don't. I don't want …. I don't want …" I stuttered, at a loss of words.
"You don't want me?" she breathed, looking a bit crestfallen.
"No. Yes. I mean …. I do want you, but I don't want to end up using you. I'm bad for that. And I don't want it to be like that," I finished.
"Why? Why am I so different?" she asked, looking curious. For a moment I just looked at her, not sure on how to express the way I was feeling.
"Annie …. You're just… I don't know. Different. You make me feel … different. And I don't want to end up hurting you," I finished.
"Than don't," she said.
"Don't what?" I asked, a bit confused.
I watched her as she closed her eyes for a moment and when she opened them, they gazed up into mine.
"Don't hurt me then," she whispered. She looked down at the sand for a moment.
"I feel different with you too, Bart. It's even more different than the way I used to feel about Luke. It's like …. I don't know. You understand me."
"Let's just not …" I started, watching as her face fell in.
"See each other?" she softly asked, her voice laced with disappointment. I chuckled and cupped her cheek with one hand so she'd look at me.
"I was going to say, not rush into anything. Okay?" I asked. She looked a bit relieved and smiled slightly.
"All right," she agreed. We walked down the beach, allowing the tide to flow over our bare feet. I looked down and watched the tide run over our feet. I smiled to myself and looked up to see Annie staring at me in awe.
"What?" I asked, a bit uncomfortable. She smiled.
"I think I've found my inspiration," she softly said. I stared at her.
"You're kidding," I muttered. She reached for my hand.
"Can I paint you, Bart?" she asked. She looked so excited, so lit up. How could I even refuse?