Grunts of frustration broke the tranquil quiet. Isabelle looked up from her book, trying to pinpoint where the sounds were coming from. Her 4th floor studio apartment was isolated from the rest of the building, perched on top of the converted turn of the century school. She’d chosen it essentially because of the quiet and the separation she had from the other residents.
She wandered to the oversized windows propped open to allow a breeze to filter through the small space. Her book dangled in her hand, for the moment forgotten as the grunts exploded into expletives. She pushed the window open further and craned her neck left and right.
Off towards the edge of the third floor she noticed a window pushed open as wide as it could. All the rest of the windows were closed so by deduction, that must be where the shouting was coming from. Isabelle hadn’t met that neighbor yet. He’d moved in only a few weeks ago and their paths had yet to cross. She debated asking him to be quiet when a scream erupted from the apartment and a large canvas went sailing out the window.
Isabelle stared, her mouth hanging open in shock. She was about to retreat back into her apartment when a male figure leaned out the window, a shaggy mop of jet black curls falling in a curtain across his face. She couldn’t see his features but the sharply defined muscles of his arms and the smooth curve of a muscled chest caused her heart to leap into her throat. She sucked in a deep breath, a warm sensation building between her legs.
“Oh my…” A breathless sigh escaped her throat. The figure stiffened and his head turned towards her. Even from this distance she knew his eyes were locked onto her own. She felt an unexplainable magnetic pull, a need to get closer to him, to touch him. She began to climb out the window, her movements hampered only by the book still clutched in her hand. The book tumbled free, its heavy cover sending it plummeting into the garbage cans below. The crash of metal shook Isabelle out of her trance and she stopped. Blinking slowly she looked down and realized she had half crawled out of her window to the small ledge. Shaking, she edged back into her apartment and closed the window behind her.
A sudden knock made her jump. Isabelle hurried over to the door.
“Who-who is it?”
“Liam O’Donnel.” A strong male voice with a lilting Irish accent flowed from the other side of the door. “I live below you.”
Isabelle opened the door an inch and peered out. The dark haired figure she’d seen leaning out the window stood before her, his muscular frame even more impressive close up. She felt her heart begin to tap dance in her chest as she swung the door open fully.
His hair was long, shaggy, half covering his face. Only one piercing grey eye could be seen, its focus locked on to her. Isabelle itched to brush the hair from his face so she could see him fully. Her fingers twitched but she willed them still. A half smile curved Liam’s face as he reached out and took her fingers into his, raised her hand to his mouth and brushed the lightest of kisses onto her skin.
“Oh.”
Liam’s smile curved wider as he released her hand. “I’m so sorry about the disturbance. I realize I was making much too much noise and I interrupted your reading.” Isabelle’s book suddenly appeared in his other hand. She took it and just stared at it, wondering how he got it.
“It’s-it’s alright, really.” Isabelle took a hesitant step back into the safety of her apartment. “Thank you for returning the book.” She moved to close the door when Liam spoke again.
“The Picture of Dorian Gray. A classic.”
Isabelle glanced at the book then back at Liam. “I’m reading it for a class. It’s an interesting premise.”
Liam brushed his hair out of his eyes and locked his silver gaze on her. She felt her knees go weak. “I’m actually an artist myself. Would you like to come and see my work?”
Isabelle felt herself nodding and following him to the roof top access to the rest of the building. Liam’s door to his apartment was standing open.
“Aren’t you worried about break in’s?”
The seductive half smile crept back. “Not really. As you’ll see, I don’t have much worth taking.”
Isabelle followed Liam into the cavernous studio apartment. The space had been created by combining two or three classroom spaces from the old school and it boasted wall to wall windows allowing a tremendous amount of light. The other walls were covered in large canvases featuring portraits of women.
The open space was largely bare. There was a small kitchenette tucked into a corner, a dilapidated brown couch along a wall and a massive easel with an oversized canvas facing the windows. Cans of paint were piled haphazardly on the bare concrete floor. Isabelle almost kicked over one such pile and glanced down to watch where she was stepping. The floor was liberally sprinkled with every imaginable shade of color making it a work of art in its own right.
She paused at the portrait on her left. The woman was striking, her body curving seductively on a plush pillow, her eyes darkened with makeup and her stare piercing. The long honey blond hair and pale green eyes were eerily similar to her own. Isabelle glanced at Liam sideways and jumped at the intensity of his own look.
“She’s beautiful, isn’t she?” He commented, stepping forward and brushing a hand lovingly along the image. He turned to Isabelle and smiled at her. “Much like yourself.”
Isabelle felt her body react to his innocuous comment. She felt a flush building and wanted nothing more than for Liam to take her that moment. Confusion flitted across her face as she fought the sensations running rampant. Liam looked at her concerned.
“Are you alright, Isabelle? Come, sit down and have some water.” He led her to the couch and produced a small glass. Isabelle drank slowly, the heat in her body diminishing.
“I’m not sure what happened,” she mumbled. Liam placed a hand on her shoulder.
“Just sit. Relax.” He turned towards the blank canvas perched on the easel. “I’d been fighting with my muse, which was the yelling you heard.” He rolled his eyes and grinned impishly. “She can be stubborn at times.” Isabelle gave him a faint smile.
“I’m feeling inspired, since meeting you…do you mind if I paint while you sit there? Just for a few moments, to see if I can get my creative inspiration going again.”
“Uhm, alright.” Isabelle chewed her lip, her body still feeling thick, her mind foggy. “Do I have to do anything?”
“No no. Just sit. Just…be.”
Liam turned to the canvas and began painting with long smooth brush strokes. Occasionally he would glance back at Isabelle, that faint half smile playing on his full lips, before continuing on.
The light was beginning to fade when Liam stopped and stepped back to observe his work. Isabelle was amazed at the transformation. It had gone from blank canvas to…her, or rather a reasonable representation of her, in such a short time. She pushed up off the couch, her knees buckling a little, and moved closer.
“It’s fabulous. I can see myself clearly in the image.”
“Will you come back tomorrow, so I can work on it again?”
Isabelle nodded, her heart doing a little thump as he took her elbow and guided her towards the door.
“Until tomorrow then.”
Over the next few weeks, Isabelle returned to Liam’s apartment so he could work on her portrait. Each time she sat for him she became oddly exhausted but the magnetic pull to see him and her image appear on the canvas was too great.
One afternoon he stepped back and proclaimed it ‘finished’. Isabelle struggled to her feet, once more feeling lethargic, and gripped Liam’s arm. She stared at the portrait in awe, her hand coming up to touch it. Liam stopped her.
“Don’t touch. It’s still wet.”
“I just can’t believe you painted this, Liam. It’s amazing…it’s like you literally picked me up and plucked me onto the canvas.” She leaned forward and placed a kiss on his cheek. “Thank you.”
Liam stroked a finger along her jaw, his cool misty gaze looking pensive before solidifying into a look of molten silver. He returned her kiss full on her lips. Isabelle felt her body stiffen then collapse, her bones unable to hold her up. She fell to the floor, her eyes widening in surprise.
Liam stood over her then stepped up to the canvas and lovingly kissed the portrait. Isabelle’s vision began to cloud over as she watched the portrait come to life and step free of the canvas. Portrait Isabelle smiled down at her inspiration as the real Isabelle’s vision faded to black.
~*~*~
For the IndieInk Writing Challenge this week, Michael challenged me with “I yearn for honesty in life. As an artist, I yearn for the clear moment.” -Jack Nicholson” and I challenged Janey with “”People who perceive their car as a reflection of their self-identity are more likely to behave aggressively on the road and break the law.” Use this statement for inspiration. 500 words max”
In celebration of Valentine’s Day, write a love story, no more than 1,500 words, using this picture above as inspiration.
