Free Enchant Me by Anne Violet

relax.
Between my friends being all about me and Christian constantly at
my side, doing his best to make me laugh. I wondered if maybe I had
imagined Nicolas there. I asked Tina to discretely look into
whether anyone had heard he was back. I was immensely glad
when school was over. Waving goodbye to Tina and Becca as they got
on their bus I joined Christian as we walked to my bike.
    With one arm around my shoulders, I could
tell he was looking around, keeping an eye out. He even seemed to
visually inspect my bike before he allowed me on. Even though
I was sure he knew that I felt better, I could see the concern
still in his velvety eyes.
    “I am going to follow you on the way to your
house and then we’ll take my car,” he murmured and gave me a quick
kiss on the forehead. 
    He was in his car and waiting for me to lead
the way before I even knew it. I kept looking around on the way to
my house but I saw nothing suspicious and decided to let it go for
now. I would mention it to mom later. Once at his house, I
really studied the yard and home as we approached the front door.
His house didn’t really look like it suited him either. It was kind
of--decrepit. The yard was overgrown, the weeds almost hip length
if you weren’t on the small gravel path. The white paint seemed to
be peeling in many places. All in all, it was kind of rundown… or
haunted. I looked at him confused as he let me in the front
door. 
    “What?” he asked, a boyish grin spreading
across his face. I didn’t want to hurt his feelings but I
really wanted to know.
    “Why--um… haven’t you mowed the lawn?”
    He let out a short bark of laughter as he
shut and locked the door. “My grandparents travel a lot so they
haven’t had the time or inclination to take care of things around
here. And as for me doing it, I have to admit I’ve been more
interested in my art than maintaining the house and yard.” He
put his arm around me and led me further into the house. “I’ll hire
someone to do it as a coming home present for them.”
    I glanced up at him. “They’re not here
now?”
    He looked down at me, a mischievous glint in
his eyes. “Nope, they’re in Arizona now, visiting relatives.”
    I caught his drift. “So it’s just you and me,
huh?”
    “Mmm-hmm.”
    The upper level of the house was what I
expected of grandparents, furniture from the fifties to the
seventies, doilies on every available surface, pictures of Italy
and stuffed fish on the walls. They had huge windows though, with
gorgeous views of the Puget Sound. There was even a wrap-around
deck. The house had real potential. When he led me downstairs,
it was obvious that this was his domain. It was like walking into a
different house from the one above. He had his own sitting room
with clean-line modern furniture, a big flat screen TV. The color
scheme a dramatic black, red and white, which for all his obvious
calm and control suited him. His bedroom was huge. The first half
seemed to be his studio, facing the windows, cluttered with every
type of art tool you can imagine. There were a couple of easels
holding canvases in various stages of development. One in
particular caught my attention.
    I drifted over to it, looking back at him in
a wordless query. He had moved to stand right beside me, looking
almost shy as he met my eyes. “Yes, I was painting you at the art
show.”
    “I’ll take that as a compliment.”
    “Good. Cause it is,” he exclaimed, all
shyness gone now. “Would you consider sitting for me for real?”
    That was probably the best compliment I ever
got. “Of course.” I walked over and sat at his bay window. He
was so amazingly lucky. “What a great view.”
    “Yes it is,” he replied, warmer than what my
comment warranted.
     I glanced over at him and noticed he
was looking at me and not the view. I inclined my head in silent
thanks.
     “Christian,” I murmured, trying to draw
out his name like a cat purring. “Come here.”
    His eyes got dark