Even with her music blaring, Desi could still ear Brian milling about her flat. He had been over every night for the past week and he was driving her crazy. She sat and stared at the blank canvass as she listened to him bop around the kitchen. He whistled along to “Pretty Brown Eyes” as he chopped the ingredients for his smoothie. Desi rubbed her forehead in disdain, trying to force an image out of her head. She needed to work. The blender started an ear-splitting grinding, drowning out the music overhead. Desi exclaimed out loud and threw down her paint brush. Hearing the commotion, Brian silenced the blender and the music. “You say something, babe?” he asked, looking across the room. Desi’s back was to him but he could still see her, holding her head. He rounded the kitchen island and strode across the room. He put his hands…