The wrench he'd been cleaning fumbled out of his grip and clattered on the concrete. He took a steadying breath and he stooped down to retrieve it. All it took to shut off those thoughts was thinking about what led up to that kiss … when Maddie saw him at his weakest.
In the background, Peter was making excuses for his work, saying, "That piece isn't finished yet. I haven't got the bird quite right. I don't like that one. I need to fix the hand there."
Which was a shame, because Peter was talented, even if the kid didn't think so himself. Peter had been the artist of one of Caleb's tattoos after all. And he wouldn't have gotten it inked onto his body unless he'd absolutely loved the design.
"Have you ever thought about pursuing this?" Maddie asked, engrossed in his drawings, turning page after page of the notebook.
Peter paused. "What do you mean?"
"I mean like going to an art school. Or entering your drawings into contests. I can get you a list of contests in the Bay Area. A friend of mine helps judge some of them and a lot are for teenagers like you. I could show her your work, if you'd like, to see what she thinks."
"Oh, I don't know," Peter mumbled, the tips of his ears turning red. "I don't think I'd win anyway."
"I think you've got a great shot! I've taken my fair share of art and design courses in college and I can say that these are all very good."
"I don't know," he replied, looking down at his feet.
Caleb knew that Peter wouldn't ask for help. The poor kid came from a bad family. His dad was drunk most of the time and his mom had seen her fair share of drugs and was hardly ever at home. Peter had told him once that he'd come home one day to find his mom and another man fucking on the couch, his dad passed out cold in the next room. The teenager had been on the verge of tears, but Caleb knew that he wouldn't let a single drop fall.
When Caleb's uncle had hired Peter, it'd been technically illegal since Peter hadn't been sixteen yet. But John had given him cash under the table since things were so bad at home. Now that Peter was sixteen it didn't matter much anymore, but Caleb gave him overtime hours whenever he could find them.
Maddie sensed his hesitation because she closed his notebook and smiled. "Well, you can think about it and I'll bring you the list on Monday just in case you change your mind. It doesn't hurt to have options."
Peter didn't say anything, just took his sketches and sat back down in his chair.
Maddie eyed Caleb, taking in the grease stains and dirty hands. Caleb resisted the urge to cringe under her gaze.
"Hi," she said. "How are you?"
"Aren't we past the point of pleasantries, princess?" he asked, wiping his hands on an even dirtier rag. He really needed to run them through the wash soon. Caleb figured he'd better get this over with. "I need to talk to you upstairs."
Caleb was having a difficult time reading her expression, which was abnormal. Maddie was like an open book, everything deliciously exposed for him to see. Not now, however; her features were guarded and that bothered him.
She gave a curt nod. "Okay."
She followed him up the stairs to his office, her heels clicking on the metal, every step tightening his body, putting him even more on edge. Caleb held the door open for her and she brushed past him inside, setting her purse down next to her workstation.
For the first time, Caleb noticed a change in the office. It was the smell. Instead of old cigarette smoke and the constantly diminishing smell of his uncle's aftershave, there was an underlying scent that was undeniably Maddie. For some reason, the knowledge rocked him, like she was slowly weaving herself into his life, like little seeds sprouting roots.
Dumbstruck, he let the door close behind him with a loud bang and Maddie eyed him, facing him fully.
"Look," she started, taking a deep breath, "I already know what you're going to say, so I'll just save you the trouble. I'm just going to completely forget about last night."
Caleb stilled. Whatever he thought she'd say, that hadn't been it.
"It never happened, as far as I'm concerned and it was such a … an odd mistake. I can assure you that it won't happen again. So no need to yell at me, or tell me that I shouldn't expect anything from you, because quite frankly, I don't. So, now that we've gotten that taken care of, I can handle things from here. You can go back downstairs if you're busy."
What the fuck? Was she excusing him?
As Caleb's mind scrambled to play catch up, he had the strongest notion that he should be offended. What she said was, most likely, exactly what Caleb would've said, but she thought that what happened last night was an odd fucking mistake? And was he really that predictable to her?