Free Freefalling by Zara Stoneley Page A

her world, of her. Wait for him and let the anticipation build in her body.
    The door clicked open, shut, the key clattered on the table; his footsteps echoed on the polished wooden floor, and her heart started to pound in her ears.
    He stood and stared and the hairs on the back of her neck started to prickle. He didn’t like it. He hated it. Fuck.
    ‘Bloody hell, Hayley, that’s … I don’t know quite what to … I --’
    ‘You can’t hate it?’ She knew she was whispering. He couldn’t; it didn’t feel wrong, it couldn’t be wrong.
    ‘It’s amazing. How could I hate it? But I don’t get how it’s so different, it’s …’
    ‘It’s something personal, like you said, a part of you and a part of me. I just couldn’t let myself get that close to you before.’ Saying this out loud definitely felt dafter than thinking it. But she wanted to try and explain; he deserved it. ‘I kept avoiding what was inside me, what I wanted to paint.’
    ‘But when we’re in bed …’ He was staring at the painting as though he didn’t want to break the bond. ‘I feel like I know every bit of you when we make love.’ There was a long pause. ‘Inside and out.’ His voice was softer, but had dropped a tone so that it snaked right under her defences.
    ‘I know.’ She swallowed to clear the stupid lump in her throat. ‘I was trying to lock that out when I painted so that I didn’t screw up. I know it doesn’t make sense, but I was trying to pretend I could switch my emotions on and off, I think. Oh shit, I don’t know.’ They didn’t move, standing shoulder to shoulder, and she knew she was teetering so close to the edge that turning back wasn’t really an option. ‘It’s just – well, I started painting when I was 16, to block out all the shit in my life.’ Hot tears pricked the back of her eyes and he reached out, threading his fingers through hers, the feel of him merging with the feel of her. ‘My mum died, and Dad couldn’t cope with his own feelings, let alone stupid teenage girl hormones.’
    It was so still in the room, so silent she could have been alone, but for the first time in her life there was someone really there, listening even if he didn’t quite understand. ‘And I guess it worked.’ She took a steadying breath. ‘I shut myself off and put all my emotion into my painting and I didn’t need anyone’s shoulder to cry on. But I guess I started to use it as an excuse, a way of keeping people at a distance.’
    ‘But what about Chris?’ His thumb brushed against the back of her hand, small circles that headed straight for her heart.
    ‘I was totally bloody infatuated. Nothing else seemed to matter until I came to my senses. But it scared me that it was so easy to lose control, to forget what was really important to me.’ She swallowed again and tried to force everything back inside. ‘I nearly lost everything.’
    ‘But you didn’t and –’ there was the slightest hint of awkward catch in his voice ‘– you loved him.’
    ‘No, I was just ready to need someone. But – right time, wrong person.’
    ‘And now?’ He was close, close enough for the warmth of his body to seep into her skin, for that familiar smell of him to wrap round her.
    ‘I don’t want a way out.’ He traced a finger down her arm; the shiver trickled into her voice, and she was suddenly scared of what came next. ‘It’s – erm, what you wanted, then? The picture?’
    ‘You’re what I want.’ Warm lips found the spot beneath her ear that never failed to send a sigh through her body. ‘Even though you drive me a little bit crazier every day.’
    ‘It’ll stop you being grey and boring.’ She finished on a squeak as his teeth nipped the soft skin just where her neck met her shoulder.
    ‘I forgot what grey was the day I met you, Hayley Tring.’ His mouth travelled down over her shoulder, over the soft cotton of her T-shirt, teased at her already hardening nipple. ‘I think you’re