marginally disappointed because I really thought he was going to kiss me.
His honey-brown eyes are smoldering cinders in the fiery sunlight. His lips part and then he seals them together again, eyeing my mouth before sighing. “I wasn’t lying,” he says, looking back at the tree as he puts the tip of his pencil back to the paper. “I could spend hours—even days—sketching you. It would be perfect.” He delicately touches the corner of my eye with his fingertips, before pulling back, the uneasiness in his eyes amplifying. “Especially those.”
I don’t know what to say to him, so I keep my lips fastened, watching him as he tucks his head down and wisps of his hair fall into his eyes. His hand starts moving again, tracing the lines of the massive leafless tree in the distance. The uneasiness quickly erases from his expression as he falls into his peace with his art, and I get lost in my thoughts of why he didn’t kiss me and why he looked so sad when he was about to.
I start to dry-heave as the burn of the alcohol forces its way back up my throat. Leaning over the railing, I gag until my stomach is empty, my abdominal muscles are throbbing, and the gravel below is drenched in my vomit. Wiping my mouth off with the back of my hand, I turn around and sink down onto the deck. Hugging my knees to my chest, I recline against the railing and angle my head back, looking up at the stars shining vibrantly against the charcoaled sky. I start counting them, one by one, and my mind and body start to relax.
I remain that way until the front door to the trailer swings open and then slams shut. Tearing my gaze away from the night, I look over at the door, hoping it’ll be Delilah and I can get the hell out of here. But it’s just Nikki.
She looks livid, her face red as she stomps down the stairs toward the gravel driveway. “Fuck you… and fuck your stupid art.”
The door opens again and the guy with honey-brown eyes walks out with an unlit cigarette stuck between his lips. Standing at the top of the stairs, he cups his hands around the end of the cigarette, lighting it while Nikki slips off one of her fluorescent pink stilettos.
“You’re an asshole, you know that?” she cries and then chucks her shoe at him.
He blows out a breath of smoke as the shoe flies by his head, but he doesn’t even flinch. Nikki stomps her bare foot on the ground as the guy steps back and bends down to collect her shoe. He walks to the top of the stairs and extends the stiletto out to her and she snatches it from him.
“I’ll never hook up with you again,” she spits, wiggling her foot into her shoe as she stumbles to the side in the loose gravel. “You’re ridiculous… you’re like a…” She gets her foot into the stiletto and she stands upright. “Do you even feel anything at all?” She folds her arms and taps her foot as she waits for him to respond.
He takes a long drag, his chest rising and falling as he releases the smoke out in front of his face. “Not really,” he says with a frown, brushing his thumb along the bottom of the cigarette. Ashes scatter all over the ground.
She clenches her fists, lets out a frustrated scream, and then she storms off for her car, her hair whipping across her shoulder as she whirls. He watches her car backs away, then he rests his arms on the railing and stares off into the darkness of the trailer park.
The longer he stands there, the more I wonder if he even realizes I’m sitting here. Should I just get up and leave? Stay put until he goes back in? I’m starting to get nervous, my palms beginning to sweat, because I can’t make a decision.
“So did your parents really name you after the car?” he unexpectedly says without looking at me.
It takes me a moment to answer. “My dad had one when I was born. He loved it and he loved me, so he thought the name was fitting.”
He nods, then turns around and reclines against the railing, slanting his head to look at me. “Does he
His honey-brown eyes are smoldering cinders in the fiery sunlight. His lips part and then he seals them together again, eyeing my mouth before sighing. “I wasn’t lying,” he says, looking back at the tree as he puts the tip of his pencil back to the paper. “I could spend hours—even days—sketching you. It would be perfect.” He delicately touches the corner of my eye with his fingertips, before pulling back, the uneasiness in his eyes amplifying. “Especially those.”
I don’t know what to say to him, so I keep my lips fastened, watching him as he tucks his head down and wisps of his hair fall into his eyes. His hand starts moving again, tracing the lines of the massive leafless tree in the distance. The uneasiness quickly erases from his expression as he falls into his peace with his art, and I get lost in my thoughts of why he didn’t kiss me and why he looked so sad when he was about to.
I start to dry-heave as the burn of the alcohol forces its way back up my throat. Leaning over the railing, I gag until my stomach is empty, my abdominal muscles are throbbing, and the gravel below is drenched in my vomit. Wiping my mouth off with the back of my hand, I turn around and sink down onto the deck. Hugging my knees to my chest, I recline against the railing and angle my head back, looking up at the stars shining vibrantly against the charcoaled sky. I start counting them, one by one, and my mind and body start to relax.
I remain that way until the front door to the trailer swings open and then slams shut. Tearing my gaze away from the night, I look over at the door, hoping it’ll be Delilah and I can get the hell out of here. But it’s just Nikki.
She looks livid, her face red as she stomps down the stairs toward the gravel driveway. “Fuck you… and fuck your stupid art.”
The door opens again and the guy with honey-brown eyes walks out with an unlit cigarette stuck between his lips. Standing at the top of the stairs, he cups his hands around the end of the cigarette, lighting it while Nikki slips off one of her fluorescent pink stilettos.
“You’re an asshole, you know that?” she cries and then chucks her shoe at him.
He blows out a breath of smoke as the shoe flies by his head, but he doesn’t even flinch. Nikki stomps her bare foot on the ground as the guy steps back and bends down to collect her shoe. He walks to the top of the stairs and extends the stiletto out to her and she snatches it from him.
“I’ll never hook up with you again,” she spits, wiggling her foot into her shoe as she stumbles to the side in the loose gravel. “You’re ridiculous… you’re like a…” She gets her foot into the stiletto and she stands upright. “Do you even feel anything at all?” She folds her arms and taps her foot as she waits for him to respond.
He takes a long drag, his chest rising and falling as he releases the smoke out in front of his face. “Not really,” he says with a frown, brushing his thumb along the bottom of the cigarette. Ashes scatter all over the ground.
She clenches her fists, lets out a frustrated scream, and then she storms off for her car, her hair whipping across her shoulder as she whirls. He watches her car backs away, then he rests his arms on the railing and stares off into the darkness of the trailer park.
The longer he stands there, the more I wonder if he even realizes I’m sitting here. Should I just get up and leave? Stay put until he goes back in? I’m starting to get nervous, my palms beginning to sweat, because I can’t make a decision.
“So did your parents really name you after the car?” he unexpectedly says without looking at me.
It takes me a moment to answer. “My dad had one when I was born. He loved it and he loved me, so he thought the name was fitting.”
He nods, then turns around and reclines against the railing, slanting his head to look at me. “Does he
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