Page 17 of Time To Learn

“Deal.”

After I’ve ordered our food, I pick up my sketchpad. I don’t draw as much as I used to, but Alex does have a point—it’s time to get my head on straight. Two months is enough time to moon about a woman who’ll never be mine, and burying myself in work might just be the cure for me. Since fucking, or drinking, hasn’t worked yet, I might as well immerse my feelings in my art instead.

Alex has gone to his office—probably to sort out some of his paperwork—so I’m alone in the shop as the bell above the door pings, alerting me to someone walking in. Turning in my chair, I put my sketch pad down before I pay attention tothem.

The woman has her back to me as she shuts the door, and I take in her firm, perky arse covered in some sort of strange trousers. My eyes trail up her back and I frown at the flannel shirt. Weird outfit. Her hair is pulled up into a messy bun, wild strands escaping it, and I can’t help but smile in appreciation of her long, slenderneck.

The female body is one hell of a piece of art. One that I, as a red-blooded male, know a heck of a lot about.

When she turns around, my smile falters as I recognise her. Her eyes widen for a nanosecond and her mouth pops open. Without meaning to, my eyes zoom in on the scar on her cheek. Just like yesterday.

“You!” she gasps.

My pencil slips out of my fingers resting on my knee, and I spring from my seat. When the woman winces, I frown for a beat, confused by her reaction. I try to morph my lips into a friendly smile.

“Hello. Nice to see you again,” I greet her, before I bend down to grab the pencil from the floor. I place it on the pad carefully, and walk out from behind the counter. Some wild instinct tells me that I need to keep my movements slow, non-threatening.

“Um, yes. Hi.”

I wait for her to say something else, but when she doesn’t, I run a hand through my scruff. I wrack my brain, trying to come up with something to say, but, for once, I’m struckmute.

Finally, the woman comes unglued from her spot and takes the three steps separating us quickly.

“I’m sorry,” she grimaces. “You surprised me, that’sall.”

I smile at her and shrug.

“No need to apologise. I didn’t think I’d see you again, either, so…”

She tucks a stray hair behind her ear before she reaches out her right hand for me to shake. I take her small hand in mine, almost shocked when it seems to get completely lost in my biggerone.

“I’m Laura,” she says, voice low, soft, husky.

My smile widens.

“Hello, Laura. I’m Kristian.”