Now I do. I’ve had more of a choice than I allowed myself to believe all along. It just means being okay with my parents’ disapproval.
Which, if I’m being truthful, I haven’t fully mastered yet. They’ll be coming back from their road trip across Canada tomorrow, and I haven’t told them about quitting my job. The thought of doing so makes bile burn the back of my throat. Every day I’ve mulled it over, considered how I’m going to approach the conversation, how I’m going to even start. Every way I slice it, it ends in my father yelling, my mom crying, and my sister looking down her nose at me, over haughty crossed arms.
So, I’ve shoved it to the far reaches of my mind. I’ve focused on my painting, I’ve turned inward. What I’ve found is that ignoring my own hopes and dreams has done more damage than I ever could have imagined. My whole life is someone else’s dream, and I’m going to have to deconstruct it right down to the foundation to build my own.
Deconstruct isn’t the right word. I need to blow it up, like Hudson said last night. Complete and total demolition. Beware the blast zone.
That aspect doesn’t scare me as much, surprisingly. Because now I have Hudson on my side. He’s had experience in construction, rebuilding the rubble laying between us, restoring the ruins of my heart.
I’ll need his expertise now. The solid, steady support of his presence while I paint, while I weigh my options, while Ifind myself again. Leaning into the unknown has been uncomfortable, wondering what my future will look like, wondering what my purpose is since I’m no longer striving for a goal I never wanted in the first place. It’s uncomfortable, but it’s also liberating.
This morning we woke up slowly, my head nestled into his chest, like we have every day since the vote. Despite the aftermath of quitting my job and figuring out what my role in the arts centre will look like, waking up in Hudson’s bed feels like the peaceful calm after a storm, when the sun warms the sidewalk and the birds start chirping again.
He decided to take the day off work, saying today was just for me. I replied by reminding him he’s made every day about me for the last few weeks, but he was insistent. He asked me what I would do if I could do anything. I said I’d like to paint.
So, that’s what we’re doing. Now I’m sitting in the sunlit kitchen of my parents’ house where I set up my supplies, with Hudson lying on a lawn chair on the patio outside the open French doors, being there like I asked him to be.
He’s reading one of his books in the sun, and the way the golden rays make his hair shimmer and his eyelashes sparkle makes my heart clench. The beautiful boy I shared my first love with is now the beautiful man I want to share every first with, and every last with, too.
Swiping colour after colour onto canvas, I create another piece like the one I did at the swimming hole. I’m not sure where the idea came from, but that’s what being in flow is like. It’s as if my hands are discovering the brush strokes, like they aren’t even coming from my own mind.
I splash on a wash of sky blue, blending in with deep greens. The blended colours provide the perfect background for all the natural details I layer in after. For this particular painting, I add pieces of thin gold leaf in areas, making the wood bark texture I painted on shimmer and shine.
Hudson comes over to where I’m sitting and wraps a sun-warmed arm around my shoulders. He smells like outside—warm pine, honeysuckle, and sunshine.
“Mmm.” He nuzzles his head into my hair. “I love watching you sit here and paint. I could do this all day every day and never get tired of it.”
I hum in response to his nearness. I don’t think I would ever get sick of this either. Having him close by fuels me, and sparks inspiration. Hudson’s breath warms my ear as he leaves soft kisses on my lobe and trails them down the line of my jaw.
“What would you say about taking a little break?” His fingertips brush my shoulders, sending goosebumps down my arm despite the warmth. All my hairs stand on end in response, as if every cell in my body is responding to him, pulling towards him. From the way his hands cup my shoulders, finding the straps of my overalls and unclipping them in quick succession, I already know what kind of break he wants.
The bib of my overalls falls down around my waist, revealing my breasts. I didn’t bother with putting a top on beneath it today, or underwear for that matter. I had a feeling they would be coming off at some point anyways.
“I would love a break.” I tilt my head, giving him more access to my neck, my hair falling in a cascade over my back.He brushes it to the side before gathering it into one hand and tugging, pulling a whimper from me. His one hand gently pulls my hair while his other traces light circles around my nipple.
“God, your tits are incredible.” Hudson groans, rolling his forehead on the crown of my head as if being in the same room as my tits is driving him wild. “I’m going to need you to put down the paintbrush.”
I set it down in the jar of murky water, and as soon as it leaves my hand, Hudson spins the chair around, the feet screeching on the tile floor. He kneels in front of me, hands on my waist, tugging at the buttons on the sides of my overalls. Once he frees them from the buttonholes, he slides them down and I lift my hips so he can easily get them off.
He takes a sharp inhale of breath when he sees I don’t have any panties on, either.
“Jesus, Miller. Had I known you were naked under those overalls, I would have taken them off a hell of a lot sooner.”
The corner of my mouth quirks up into a smirk.
“Now, where would the fun be in that?” I tease, but Hudson’s eyes darken as he stares me down, hands coming to the insides of my thighs. He tilts his head and pushes my legs apart, spreading me wide in front of him. His eyes dart up and down my slick core, admiring my pussy as if it were a piece of art on display for him.
He grips my hips and slides them forward on the chair, bringing me to the edge. I brace myself on the seat and wrap my ankles around his back for extra support as he leans down to take a languorous lick of my cunt. My vision goes white with blinding light as the sensation of his soft, wet tonguemeeting my clit sends a warm ripple through my core, into my limbs.
I’ve had Hudson’s face between my legs more times than I can count in the last few weeks. His thick cock, too. I’ll never get sick of this, either. He licks me with his tongue flat, before sweeping a circle around my clit and sucking. Then he repeats the motion until his speed picks up, and all he can do is swirl around the bundle of nerves over and over until I’m screaming, crying out his name.
“Fuck, I’m going to—” I cry, and I don’t even have the time to say the word ‘come’ because an orgasm is already hurtling through my body, my arms and legs shaking, my mind going blank, my mouth unable to speak for the way it’s forming a silent scream.
Hudson plants soft kisses over my swollen flesh, soothing it before he goes back in for more. When he eats, he has a whole meal, with multiple courses and he leaves room for dessert.
I’m settling in for another round when I hear beeping from outside, like an oversized vehicle backing up. Like a motorhome reversing. And then a car door slams. My wide eyes meet Hudson’s between my legs, before he snaps up, realizing at the same time as I do what’s happening.
My parents are home.
