Outdrawn

by Deanna Grey

Every cell in my body pushed me to create, but there was little to no fun in creation when I was the only one enjoying it. Plus, not being able to afford healthcare was a mood killer.

I used to think I was in love with him before I realized he was simply a beautiful man who knew how to listen and express his emotions in a sincere, non-threatening way.

Hot damn

That's what a good person would do, what a good daughter and sister would do. She'd make sure her family was safe. But, I couldn't feel happy for them. I was too upset to feel anything but anger, and then shame about the anger.

I'd always had a good relationship with loneliness. Lonely had been my safe place. In silence, no one expected anything from me. That lack of expectation meant I could be myself. Of course, it got hard, but that was a trade-off I'd been willing to make. Or, at least, I thought it was.

Her hand looked nice in mine—protected. I twisted my mouth to the side at that thought, at the slowly growing need to be that for her. The longing engulfed me, unwilling to let me go no matter how much I tried to pull away. I couldn't be a protector for anyone anymore.

“You look…” “What?” she whispered back. “Happy to see me or something,” I teased. “You’re the one who lit up as soon as I got here,” she tossed back with a smile. "In your dreams." "I wouldn’t put it past me," Sage agreed.

What was I doing wrong? How could I be better so people didn't feel like I needed constant correcting? My eyes stung at the thought.

She smiled. “I know. But when it’s us, I want to make sure you feel safe to be, to do, say, or just be.”

What was happening? How did I switch from wanting Sage to fall off the face of the Earth to needing her to never let me go, no matter the impracticality?

I’d give it everything I had, though, because whatever was happening between us felt good, better than art had in a while—and damn, did I hate even thinking that.

“Did she just ask you out? The girl you’ve hated since college asked you out?” I hid my face in my hands. “Yes, and I sounded so…" "Fucked," Amaya said with a laugh. She didn't look even the slightest bit disapproving. "You are a goner. You're fucked." "God, I am." I groaned.

I know they're just waiting for me to strike out. They're waiting at home with open arms, and that messes with my psyche. I can't figure out how to tell them that it's not helpful. They are the people who know me best in the world, so if they don’t believe in me, then why should I believe in myself?"

"I should have drawn kissing girls in your margins. That would have gotten the message across. Plus, you deserved that." "I did deserve that," I agreed. "Can never have too many kissing girls."

could live off the fire in her touch, survive off the heat of her mouth on my neck as I wet her fingers.

To be privy to her fear of creating a home was a layer I’d never seen coming, and fuck, I wanted more. I wanted her kisses along with sorrows, body along with dreams. I wanted to share that pain in the voice she had over the phone, let her escape it for a moment with my mouth on her clit.

We were in another universe together, one painted with our clashing colors and our need to be better than yesterday. All the energy we’d poured into our rivalry evolved into a keen awareness of one another’s needs.

Could she give me that? After pushing everyone away, could I be the first person she pulled in?

Noah smiled up at me, looking too good to be true, too beautiful to not have all the orgasms she desired.

“It’s you,” I groaned into the pillow. “It’s always you. No matter where I go.”

"Be happy about this, Noah. No matter what's going on between you and Sage, if she has half the brain we think she does, she won't hold this against you. You two should be mature enough to cheer for each other,

Because Pastel, before you break my heart, please know."

"Because I know I want to be with you," she said firmly. "I know I want to see your smile and hear your voice every day. I know I want to help you feel seen and heard. I know not a day goes by when I won't work hard to give you everything you deserve. I know that you want me to have everything I deserve. You're never going to make things easy. You'll never sugar coat things. I know when we're together, we are petty assholes, but we're also something beautiful, something far bigger than the art. I can't believe I'm saying this, but Noah, we can be bigger than the art. I know that."

"I've always been good at making the right calls." I laughed. "Really?" "I have you, don't I?" She held me tighter against her. My stomach did a few back flips. "You do, Sage, you really do."

"You're doing so well." Sage had three fingers inside my pussy, moving them in and out at a steady rhythm as her thumb circled my clit. "More. Can I have more?"

"Go on," she encouraged hoarsely when she felt my tremble and pressed her thigh firmer against me. "You want more from me? Take it."

“It’s going to be a hard change. It's not going to be overnight or linear. Regardless, I’m glad I get to heal with someone who knows how it feels to be torn apart.”

“Um, I’m referring to the billion lilacs all over,” I did a three-sixty turn, “everywhere.” “You said they were your lucky flower.” Sage put a lid on her pot.

"I don't believe in it, but you do. Even though I think everything you've done is because you're an incredible human being and artist, these flowers help you believe that too. So, I'm going to shower you with them for as long as you want."

"I'm scared." My hand tightened on the extra fabric of her shirt, trying to remind myself that she was here with me. "Of what?" Sage's grip tightened. "You're here. You're with me. You're safe."

Art had that power over us. It was too beautiful to let go, but too dangerous to hold onto sometimes.

I wasn't as skilled, having to bite down on a pillow as her tongue made me come undone. She continued to eat me out until I couldn't take the trembling that had taken over every inch of my body.

By the time I reached the end, I could barely see through my tears. The last panel was of the glasses-wearing woman on one knee. I let out a strangled laugh and turned around to find Noah on one knee. "You're crying," she said, half-surprised, half-concerned. "You never cry. " "No one's ever made me feel…like this." I spread out my arms and marveled at the art again. "You did all of this for me."