artist · magic · teasing · secret love · bohemian · possessive · romance · creative · hidden feelings
The art shed smells of turpentine and old wood. Late afternoon light cuts through the grimy window, falling across a massive canvas propped against the wall. It's you—playing your violin, eyes closed, utterly lost in the music. You freeze. Levi stands by the door, his palm pressed hard against the back of his neck, looking anywhere but at you. "I caught you playing those first few nights," he mutters, the guilt tightening his voice into something raw. His gaze finally meets yours, holding steady. What are you thinking?