Only Between Us Read Online Free PDF

louder.
    There’s something in the timbre of his voice that makes me want to do as he says, and for a moment I want to strike out, to rebel. But when he says it a third time, I remind myself that he’s not trying to control me. I will not let Alex make me see the world this way, scared and suspicious of everything and everyone. That would mean he’s still manipulating me, and I won’t let him ruin this for me like he ruined so much else. Caleb is trying to help me. He’s my teacher. “Mostly dark brown …”
    “No,” he murmurs. “ Really try.”
    Somehow, I know what he means. I know what he wants. “Raw umber … mostly, but Prussian blue, too, maybe a bit of yellow ochre …”
    “Intensity?” His breath skates across my cheek, and my stomach tightens, but not with fear.
    “Dull, I guess. There’s a … a streak of light through it …”
    “Romy,” he says, and it’s the gentlest of reprimands. “I think you can do better than that.”
    So I try harder, pushing myself into the colors, swimming in them. And as I do, they stop slipping away from me. I gobble up the images, the swirls of rich tones, earth and sun. “Mostly titanium white, but a healthy dose of lemon yellow.”
    He hears it in my words, my voice, I’m certain. He almost sounds excited as he asks, “Orange? Black? Warm or cool?”
    “Definitely warm,” I whisper, so quiet that I’m not sure he can hear me. And suddenly I don’t know if I’m talking about the colors or him. His body heat fans across my shoulder blades. If I leaned back, even a little, I’d be touching him … but I can’t. I shouldn’t. That’s not what this is about. I open my eyes. The swirling, mysterious colors that dwell beneath my eyelids are gone. In front of me is my paper, dull white. A blank. The loss is shocking, like surfacing from a dream before you’re ready. Caleb is so quiet behind me that I pivot in my seat and my legs collide with his. I wobble and my hands rise to keep myself from sliding off the stool. His do the same, and I end up clutching his arms while his fingers close around my elbows, steadying me.
    For a moment, he gazes down at me, and my heart skips and stutters. “Now create it,” he says. “Make it real.” His grasp on me tightens.
    I’m not thinking of what I saw beneath my eyelids anymore. Storm gray, spindly threads of yellow ochre, a tiny, brilliant spot of phthalo blue in his right eye but not in the left ... “What?”
    He glances down at my abandoned palette. “Recreate what you saw. Do that, and then you can go.”
    “I can go whenever I want,” I blurt.
    His eyes flash with something, maybe annoyance or humor, and he releases my arms. “Of course you can. But you won’t want to go until you’ve done this for yourself.”
    I open my mouth to argue with him, but then I realize he’s right, and my words slip back down my throat.
    “We … uh … have open easel time on Sunday afternoons, too,” Caleb says, suddenly hesitant. My heart thumps as I realize he’s staring at my mouth. He bows his head and a few loose, chocolate brown strands fall across his face. “If you don’t already have pl—”
    “Caleb?” A voluptuous woman with perfectly highlighted blonde hair peeks into the room—she’s the one who went upstairs earlier. His head jerks up in time for me to see the flush on his cheeks. The woman’s eyes lock onto him, and her lacquered red lips quirk into a seductive smile. “I was waiting for you.”
    A ball of nausea forms in my stomach, and I have to look away from her. My gaze falls on Caleb’s hands, which clench for a moment before relaxing again.
    “I’ll be right there, Claudia,” he says before looking back at me. “You good to go?”
    I force a casual smile onto my face. As if the last several minutes were simply nothing, easy, meaningless, shallow. “Good to go. Thanks.”
    He returns my smile, but I swear I detect a hint of sadness there. “Anytime.”
    He turns on his heel and