Free Proving Paul's Promise by Tammy Falkner Page A

prison program excites them.”
    Her brows arch. “And?”
    “And apparently they thought you and I had chemistry.”
    She snorts. “Chemistry?”
    “Chemistry,” I repeat.
    She looks at me in the mirror as she runs a comb through her hair. “How do you feel about that?”
    She reaches around me for the medicine cabinet. The front of her body grazes mine, and she steadies herself with a hand on my chest as she reaches for a bottle of lotion. She squirts it into her hands and raises one foot to rest on the top of the closed toilet lid.
    “Paul,” she says, jerking me from… Where was I?
    “What?” I ask.
    “How do you feel about the reality show?”
    I shrug. “It’s a lot of money.”
    “How much?”
    She lifts her other foot and starts to rub lotion up her other leg. “Paul,” she coaxes.
    “Enough that they could all get a good start in life.”
    “What about you?”
    “What about me?”
    “Would it help you?”
    “That’s not important. I just want to see them all settled and happy.”
    She nods and steps up onto her tiptoes, kisses my cheek really quickly, and then sinks back down onto her heels. “You should talk to them about it.”
    I nod. “I will.” I let my eyes scan her face. “I like your freckles,” I say.
    “Good.” She grins. “Do you feel like going somewhere with me today?” she asks.
    Logan, Matt, Sam, and Pete are all working today, so I don’t technically have to go in. I narrow my eyes at her. “Where?”
    “It’s a surprise.” She smiles mischievously. “You’re not scared, are you?”
    I scoff. “Of you? Never.”
    I’m only scared of her every fucking day. She makes my gut wrench and my heart skip and my head churn. And she does it without even touching me. One day, she’s going to want to touch me and I’ll get to touch her back. But I kind of need for her to take the first step. I’m terrified of loving her because I know loving her won’t be easy. But I also know I don’t want to miss the chance.

 
    Friday
    It’s the end of May, and there’s a big fundraiser today for the homeless shelter in the park. The shelter I volunteer with has set up tents for the weekend, and each one has a different event going on at it. Mine is body paint. I’ll be doing henna tattoos and painting faces for kids all day. Anything that can be painted, I will paint.
    I pull my hair back into a ponytail. I don’t usually do much volunteering, but this event is kind of my thing. I owe this rescue mission my life: they took me when no one else would. My life spiraled out of control, and they helped me find my footing. They don’t know the new me, so I have to go as the old me, and it’s the me that Paul has never seen. I am not wearing makeup, and I have on shorts and an old T-shirt that says Will work for change . And I will. I’m willing to put my money where my mouth is when it comes to fundraising for this group. I’ll take dollars, I’ll take change, I’ll take checks, and I’ll take credit cards. If I can get one girl off the streets, I’ve done a good thing and I can sleep easier.
    I put on a baseball cap and pull my ponytail through the back of it. I sling my backpack, which has all my paints in it, over my shoulder. The rest of my stuff is waiting at the tent in the park.
    “We’re going to be late,” I say as I run out of the room toward the front door.
    “Jesus Christ, Friday,” Paul says quietly when he sees what I’m wearing.
    I look down and fidget with my jean shorts. “What?” I ask.
    He shakes his head. “I’ve never seen you look so…normal.”
    “Is it bad?” I ask.
    He closes his mouth. “No,” he says. He smiles. “It’s good. Very, very good.”
    I usually wear my vintage clothes and heels when I’m working at the shop, and it’s what people have come to expect so I keep doing it. I get a lot of attention that way, and that’s what the shop needs. “You ready?” I ask.
    He is wearing jeans and a T-shirt with the Reed’s