Free The Art of Submission by Ella Dominguez Page B

Not when he’s only feet away from my paintings
and my bed. I ask him if we
can talk somewhere else and to my surprise, he’s agreeable to that
idea and even offers to buy me lunch. How polite.
    Now I just have to put some clothes on. I’ve
been self-conscious since the moment he stepped foot into my
apartment. I need to cover myself.
    “Can I change first?” I ask him.
    “Why? You look fine .”
    He thinks I look fine ? Okay. I suddenly feel shy in front of him
and feel myself blush at his gaze. He’s just so… Dylan . I’ve decided right now that
the term Dylan will encompass
all things stunning, sexy, beautiful and dangerous.
    We immediately leave and head outside.
He points towards his car and I immediately recognize it as the
very same one from the other night. So he was here? Why didn’t he
come up then? I find it very unlikely that he knows someone else in
this building, unless he was here to have them arrested. He
interrupts my thoughts and makes some comment about this being one
of many cars. Must be nice.
    We walk towards the car and he surprises me
by politely opening the passenger side door for me. He’s such a
gentleman. No one has ever done that for me before. Suddenly, I
feel very ladylike. How is it that someone who was so rude to me on
the phone yesterday can be so polite today? He’s a conundrum.
    I thank him, not quite knowing what the
proper etiquette is for letting someone open the door for me, but
this time, I use his first name, and it feels so good to say
it. Dylan . I like the way it
rolls off my tongue. I’d like to roll my
tongue over a few other things of his…
    On the drive over to a nearby café, I take
the opportunity to look him over more closely. His hair is thick
and layered cut and the dark brown hair is broken up by gold
undertones. He has a strong jaw line, a slightly upturned nose and
a very handsome profile. His bottom lip is full and almost pouty. I
try not to be obvious about staring at him, but I can see he’s
watching me with sideway glances. He finally looks over at me,
catching me red handed, and all I can do is smile lamely at
him.
    Once we get to the café, he again
politely opens the door for me. A girl could get used this. As we
walk into the café, I feel myself becoming more and more anxious.
He looks so determined and self-assured, so… Dylan .
    We sit down near a window. I sit waiting for
him to tell me what this meeting is all about, and I can’t help but
feel like I’m in a dream. Me sitting, looking up at him, waiting
for his next command. I’m getting aroused and damp at the
thought.
    “Isabel. The reason I wanted to meet you face
to face, was so that we can discuss your paintings. Am I to
understand that you want them back?”
    Of course I want them back. He already knows
this and he also knows I can’t afford to buy them back. Are we just
here to rehash yesterday’s conversation? I hope not. As I sit
thinking about how he rebuked me during our previous conversation,
I can’t bring myself to look at him.
    “Can you please just answer this…”
    He really wants to know the
reason? Okay, here it goes. I tell him why; because
they’re deeply personal to me, and I feel my tears starting to
choke me. When I look up at him, his usually cool blue eyes look
warm.
    “I see. And you didn’t want to sell
them?”
    God no! I try to explain that Greer
was very persistent, but he
cuts me off.
    “ Is he your boyfriend?” he asks
narrowing my eyes at me.
    What? Where did that come from? I want to
scream FUCK NO, but again my instilled good manners shine
through.
    “No. Absolutely not .” I tell him emphatically. I’m impressed; I
think that’s the loudest I’ve ever spoken to him.
    “Is he an ex- boyfriend?” He asks with one eyebrow
raised.
    I think I’m going to be sick. Why is he
asking me this? I can’t bring myself to look at him.
    “Not exactly.” I whisper. Please let this go.
    “What then, exactly ?”
    Oh God. He’s wants me to say