I turned off the light in my filming room and closed the door behind me, heading to my room to get dressed. Not sure what to do with myself and feeling incredibly antsy, I grabbed my old sketchbook and drawing pencils and decided a change of scenery was exactly what I needed.
I was only a fifteen-minute walk from the large park in the center of town. The air was brisk and there was a chill in the air. The sun was setting earlier and earlier now that it was fall but there was enough light for me to do some drawing. Once at the park, I headed straight for the massive oak tree that sat by itself in the middle of the green field. There were still families around. Kids climbing all over the playground equipment. There was a group of guys playing parks and rec soccer. It felt good to be surrounded by people.
I sat down on the ground, not caring that the grass was slightly damp, and leaned back against the thick tree trunk. I propped the sketch pad on my knees and looked around, searching for inspiration. It had been a long time since I had drawn anything. When I was in high school, I spent most of my time with my head down, my fingers covered in pencil and ink. At one time I had even considered a career in the arts, but when my dad passed away in my first year of college, I needed more lucrative plans. I had always been a good student, the top of my year, so I found myself drawn to law. And I was glad I went down that road, though part of me missed the freedom of art.
Homing in on the mountains in the distance, I started to sketch them, the autumnal leaves falling from trees. It sort of looked like a pencil drawing of a Bob Ross painting. It was rough, but not half bad. I let myself get lost in it, forgetting about the things I should be worried about.
“You took my spot.”
I looked up, the sun behind the person standing in front of me, making me squint. I lifted my hand to shield my eyes.
My stomach flipped over instantly.
“Hey,” I said softly, smiling at the sight of Skylar. I hadn’t seen her since taking the stained glass window to her house.
She crossed her arms over her chest. “I always sit here.”
I looked around. “I think there’s room for two if you’re okay with sharing.”
She hesitated and I expected her to turn and leave. She had made it clear that she didn’t want to spend time with me ever again. When I looked at her, it was hard to forget that only months ago I had been kissing that gorgeous, full mouth of hers. I had been touching her smooth skin.
It felt like absolute torture knowing I’d never see her naked again.
“Sure, why not? This day has already gone to complete shit, let's put the cherry on the cake.” She sat down heavily beside me, her arm bumping into mine. She definitely knew how to make a guy feel good about himself. She looked down at my sketch pad. “Are you drawing?” She raised an eyebrow.
“No, I’m baking a cake,” I deadpanned.
“That’s a pretty weird looking cake,” she shot back at me. She let out a long, pent-up sigh and leaned back against the tree, closing her eyes.
“You look like someone just ran over your cat. Or you’ve been forced on a horrible blind date. So, which is it? I hope not the cat,” I asked.
She signed again, rolling her head in my direction, looking at me. Her eyes had this penetrating quality that was disarming. As if she could see all of you, even the things you tried really hard to keep hidden. “I just came from dinner with my parents,” she said by way of explanation.
“And that’s a bad thing, I take it,” I deduced.
“The worst.” She made a face. “My parents are...how to put this nicely...horrible, fucking people.”
I let out a shocked laugh. “Wow, Murphy, tell it like it is.”
“They’re the kind of people that make you feel like crap. They’re always bitching and complaining. At each other, at me…” Her eyes narrowed. “You know what, never mind.”
“You can talk to me, you know. I like learning stuff about you,” I told her, hoping she’d keep talking. This was the longest, most civil conversation we had had in months. I missed talking to her. I missed her.
I hadn’t known her for very long, but in such a short time she had become strangely integral to my life. It was a strange sensation—to feel a connection that seemed entirely implausible.
Skylar shook her head. “We are not doing this.” She started to stand up, but I quickly reached out and grabbed her wrist, stopping her. I held her gently, just enough of a plea for her stay
“What do you mean?” I asked her.
She looked at me incredulously. “Men really are oblivious sometimes.”
“I hate this tension between us. Please, stay.” My words sounded strangled. I wasn’t used to showing emotion to those who are outside of my immediate family. My adult life had been spent playing a part. Putting on an act. Sometimes it was hard to remember who the real Rob Jenkins was. But I was starting to think I wanted Skylar Murphy to want to see me—all of me. God, it was terrifying.
“The part where I spill my guts and you don’t say anything. I’m not interested in putting my insides on a show for you to have a look at and then offer nothing in return. I don’t do one-way relationships, Rob. Not anymore.” Her shoulders were rigid, her mouth was tight, she was upset and hurt, and I had made her feel that way.
What do I do?
I handed her my sketchpad.
She frowned but started flipping through the pages. She stopped at
