“Your dad and I are going out for a couple of hours.” She stuffs her phone inside her Prada bag and zips it up. “Have you heard from your brother?”
“As in going out, together?” I question, squeezing my thighs together when I remember I’m not wearing any underwear. Suddenly feeling the need to get the hell out of this awkward situation.
Dad nods. “Your mom gave me a guilt trip about how I haven’t taken her on a date in almost a decade, which is an exaggeration, but I agreed that it was time.”
This is new. My parents are being... normal.
“I’ve tried calling Talon countless times, but he’s off doing who knows what again. Please try and reach him. He has school tomorrow.”
“I’ll try.”
Mom looks as if she’s going to lean in for a hug, but then turns away. “Where are your shoes? Your feet are filthy.” She looks down at my feet in disgust. “Be sure Esme cleans this up.” Acknowledging a small smudge of dirt that I dragged in.
I roll my eyes and walk upstairs to my bedroom. I pull open the drawer of my dresser that holds my yoga pants, pull out a pair and slip them on under my skirt, then toss the dirty skirt in my wicker basket. I throw myself on my bed with my phone on my chest and contemplate apologizing to Jasper, but once again, I don’t.
I could just see what he’s doing.
But, I don’t.
I mess around on Instagram for a while, play a little Candy Crush, and after an hour of wasted time, finally give into myself.
Me: How about that drawing?
I smile at the text in anticipation of his reply.
New Kid: Blakely? I’m not sure if it’s you or the queen who just stormed out of my yard. I never know who I’m talking to.
Me: It’s always me. I just display different versions.
New Kid: Could you please be more consistent then? I’m not a fan of change.
Me: Get up to your room and take your shirt off. See you in five.
I half expect him to tell me to screw off and find that his blinds are closed, but when I open my curtains, I am impressed to see that he obeyed. Pressing my lips firmly together, I grab my notebook and sit down on the nook couch in my window with my legs bent and my notebook resting on them.
The wind picks up, gently blowing my curtains in its wake. I look over and see the space between the two houses closing, as if he’s right in front of me. Jasper stares down at something in his hands, the side view of his perfectly sculpted abs pulling at my gaze. My eyes catch something new, a tattoo on his right side. I’m not sure how I ever missed it, but then again, our topless encounters have been fairly intense, leaving little time to explore. It’s a large hourglass, half empty, with a tree branching out around it. I can’t make out what’s inside, but it's captivating.
I bend down and retrieve my phone from the floor and with the speaker on, I call Jasper and set it back down while I begin.
“Tell me about the tattoo,” I say when he answers the phone. “Speaker on, phone down and look straight ahead.” He looks over giving me a roll of his eyes. ”Ahh, I said straight ahead.”
“You’re enjoying this too much. You get a rise out of barking orders, don’t ya?”
“No.” I shake my head, although he’s not looking at me. “I get a rise out of being heard. Tattoo?”
“I got it when I turned sixteen.”
“That’s all you have to say? What’s the story behind it?”
“My mom was an artist... like you. I found it in an endless pile of drawings and paintings that were stuffed in a box. She was fourteen years old when she drew it. After she passed away, we were sorting through her personal belongings, and this spoke to me. I kept it, along with the others, and got it inked on my sixteenth birthday.”
I continue to draw, shaping his perfect jaw line and taking note of the small scar on his chin. Each stroke of the pencil making me more aware of the small details of his body. Each line, each stray hair that falls purposely out of place. Each skin fold and mark that has a story behind it. Did he fall off his bike as a kid and bump his chin? Did he get in a fight? The small mole on his right shoulder, the hole in his ear tells me he had them pierced at one time. Why did he take them out? I suddenly find myself wanting to know more—wanting to know everything.
“Take a picture and send it to me.”
Still as a statue, he speaks without moving. “Am I allowed to move now?” He laughs.
“Quickly.” I hiss in a teasing tone.
Three seconds later, the image pops up on my phone. I set my notepad down and take a closer look at the hourglass. The bottom half holds a small skull, and the top, a broken heart. Branches slither through it and around the edges. It’s beautiful.
“Life and death,” he says. “Two things that are inevitable.”
“Pain. Also inevitable.”
“Pain we can control, death we cannot.”
“How do you figure?” I retort, brushing the pencil gently against the paper as I outline his shoulders.
“If we don’t allow ourselves to attach to someone or something then we never know what it’s like to lose it. Therefore, we don’t feel the pain of the loss.”
“You’re preaching to the choir. Hence, my standoffish nature.”
“Standoffish nature? Is that what you call it?” He laughs so hard that I can hear him across the yard, echoing through my phone.
“First of all, quit moving. Second of all, I happen to be a very likeable person... when I want to be.”
“Oh yeah, what day of the month is that? Pencil me in.”
I watch as his body twitches, and I know he’s fighting the urge to look at me, begging to see my reaction. He enjoys trying to get under my skin far too much. I sort of enjoy letting him.
“We do have a project to finish, don’t we?” I press my lips together and curl them into a smile.
“That we do. Monday it is.”
I’ll allow him this one moment of thinking that he’s calling the shots. He deserves it.
“Shouldn’t we be about done with this thing? All we have to do is some research and write up a presentation. We spent an entire Saturday night talking about it. Homework on a Saturday,” I huff, “Who does that?”
“We did that and you loved every minute of it.” His lips curl at the seams, and without hesitation, mine follow suit.
I glance down at the paper in my hand, an alluring image of a boy who I want to know. One with purpose, heart, and life. Three things I crave to feel inside myself but fight when they peak.
When I look up, our eyes catch, and I wonder how long he’s been watching me, examining me, trying to figure me out. I know that’s what he’s doing. He thinks he can get inside and fix me. Little does he know, I’m unmendable. A permanent display of brokenness.
I catch myself biting the corner of my lip as we stare across at each other. Jasper arches his eyebrow and sends butterflies fluttering through my stomach. I shake my head at myself and break the gaze, smiling as I look down at my notebook.
One last finishing touch as he continues to watch me in silence.
I close my notebook. “Finished.”
“Well, what are you waiting for?” He stands up. “Let’s see it.”
“Nope.” I close it and toss it on the dresser. Just as I’m about to speak, the slamming of the front door startles me. Loud voices follow the thud and my heart drops when It’s made clear that the sudden display of affection between my parents was too good to be true.