Secrets Vol. 2(11)

He flips on lights as we walk through. They illuminate the walls creating a subtle golden glow. Cole stops in the kitchen and goes to the cabinets, pulling out wine glasses. I don't say anything. I feel nervous and I don't know why. Part of me is scared that I'll agree with him and change my mind. The other part senses something about him, about Cole, that makes me nervous.

He hands me a glass of wine. "I don't know about you, but this is unusual for me." I know what he means. This situation makes him nervous. Since I feel the same way, I take the glass.

I follow him into a room at the back of the apartment. When I see the bed, I realize it's his bedroom and stop. It feels like I'm being strangled. My grip on the glass is so tight it could shatter. I raise the wine to my lips and sip, hoping it will calm whatever has me on edge. I enter the room behind Cole, but I don't see the art he wants to show me. The walls are barren like he hasn't decorated this part of the apartment. A large poster bed made from dark wood is in the center of the room. I look at it, thinking things about Cole that I shouldn't. Tearing my gaze away from the bed, I look down at the dark wood floor and glance around. There is a row of windows and a balcony that overlooks a perfect skyline.

I'm not sure where he's going, but Cole continues walking in front of me and crosses the room. My heart rate steadies, but there's still something intimate about this. I inhale a little too deeply and notice it's Cole's cologne that I like after I've already done it. Guilt flames my cheeks and I pretend that I didn't do it.

Cole passes straight through the room without comment, and pulls open the closet doors. A light pops on. It's a huge walk-in with clothing lining both walls and a chair. Oak drawers and shelves line the lower part of the walls. The room smells like Cole. I don't cross the threshold. I stop and watch him.

Cole crosses the wardrobe in three strides, and reaches for a knob at the back of the closet and pulls open a door. There's a tiny darkened closet back there filled with large rectangle-shaped sheets. Those must be the paintings. I don't understand why they are hidden in his closet if he values them.

He looks back at me. As if reading my mind, he says, "They're hidden for a reason. What I'm showing you is rarely seen. I'm curious what you think - and terrified." He swallows hard, his sapphire eyes on my face. He stands there for a moment, suspended like he can't decide if he wants to show me or not.

My voice is small. I step toward him asking, "Why would it matter what I think? I'm nobody." Condensation is beading on my glass. I wipe a trail through it with my thumb. I don't look up at him. I don't want to see his face when he answers.

There's a pause before he says, "That's where you're entirely wrong."

I lift my eyes and see him watching me. Cole's blue gaze makes my stomach feel like it's in a free fall. His lips part like he's going to say more, but he doesn't. I wish he would. I wish he felt comfortable saying his secrets to me, but I suppose this is a secret. The paintings are something he doesn't show people and I'm standing here waiting to see them. A warm glow spreads through me until I remember the circumstances of my being here. It was to prove a point, and nothing more. I clutch my glass harder.

Instead of saying more, Cole reaches into the shadows and pulls out a large painting that's draped with a white sheet. Moving closer, I walk into his dressing room holding my breath. Goosebumps line my arms. The hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. I'm nervous. My stomach is twisting and I don't know why.

Cole's voice is too soft. He hands me the painting and says, "Here." I take it from him.

"Cole," I stand there frozen. For some reason this doesn't feel like he's just trying to prove a point. I can't pull the sheet off. It feels like I'm seeing something forbidden.

After a moment, Cole glances at me, "Just look at it, Anna."

I swallow hard and pull the sheet. The drape falls to the floor and I don't understand what I'm seeing. I feel Cole behind me, but he's silent. My eyes take in the piece of art in my hands. The stretched canvas is too big to hold for long, so I set it down. It has no frame, just a black edge. My gaze follows the blue lines across the painting. It's the curves of a woman's body, her neck, her arms, her waist, her breasts, but I can't see her. She's lost in shadow. It's a sensual showcasing of her curves in shadow and light. I'm mute, staring at it. While the piece is stunning, that isn't what rendered me speechless. I can't admit why I'm drawn to it.

I swallow the lump in my throat as I stare. I move closer, trying to understand how it was created. It looks like a photograph printed on canvas that was painted, but the light is so unusual. It almost looks like watercolors, soft and pure.

I find my voice and ask, "How was this done? Why does your light source look like that?"

"I promise I'll tell you," Cole says, "But tell me what you think."

I swallow hard. I feel the longing in this piece. I can't stop staring at it. "It's beautiful," I breathe. "I've never seen anything like it. The light is so pale it looks like she's been painted, but it's not a painting - is it? It's a photograph, or at least it started that way." I reach out to touch it and stop myself.

"Go ahead," he says, allowing me to commit a cardinal sin. My fingers slide across the smooth canvas. I can't fathom how he made it. "What else?" I feel his gaze on the side of my face. Every time my heart beats, I feel it. I feel everything. It's like I'm inside Cole's body, touching his soul. It makes me shiver. I don't have words for it.