Page 123 of I Blame the Rival

“You have the prettiest smile.” I whisper, wrapping my arms around his waist, “It takes my breath away every time.”

Pressing a kiss against his neck, I wait for those mesmerizing eyes to meet mine.

One brown. One blue.

Each one glistening with an untold story, the sacrifice and struggle of a boy learning to love himself again.

“You’re the real work of art, Skylar Vin. I hope you know that.”

He swallows, looking at me like I just sliced his chest open and stole the organ beating inside. Pressing another kiss againsthis neck, I slide my hand up to his heart, leaving my own mark on his body.

“This is my favourite part of you. This ugly thing that keeps us alive.” Pressing my fingers down, I can feel the fragments of my own heart beating underneath, “I know it hurts sometimes but that’s what makes it beautiful. That’s what makes it mine.”

Skylar slowly turns around, his eyes alight with so many emotions it’s impossible to distinguish a single one. My hand is still pressed against his chest, the accelerated beat of our heart thundering against my fingers.

“I’ve always been yours, Flower.” His eyes are locked on mine, the light and dark iris teasing me with endless opportunities, “I just didn’t know it until I read your handwriting for the first time.”

I laugh, feeling my eyes start to well-up, “I thought for sure my pen pal was a girl.”

“A middle-aged cat woman, if I remember correctly.”

I laugh again, the tears flowing freely as I look at the perfectly broken boy who had been waiting for me.

“Do you want me to tell you a secret?”

“Always.”

“I’m really glad you didn’t turn out to be a girl.”

Skylar starts to laugh, the boisterous sound echoing off the walls of his bedroom. It’s a beautiful sound, loud and carefree, and soon I’m laughing right alongside him.

“Alright, it’s your turn.”

“You want me to tell you a secret?”

I shake my head, wiping the tears from my eyes, “Not this time.”

Grabbing his hand, I pull him back to the bed. I snatch up the marker from the duvet and pass it over.

“It’s your turn to draw on me.”

Skylar takes the marker without a word. Making myself comfortable on his bed, I lie flat on my back and brace myself for the fear to set in.

But it never does.

My breath flows easily through my lungs as I watch Skylar study me quietly. There’s an unspoken question in his eyes, the need for reassurance that I suddenly find myself being able to give.

“I’m ready.”

The honesty of those words fall between us, the smile lighting up my face serving as encouragement for Skylar to start drawing. He takes a step closer, reaching out to take my hand. Pressing down the tip of the marker, he wraps a vine around my ring finger before starting the slow trek upward.

True to his word, he connects every freckle, branching them all together in a stunning array of blooming flora and fallen leaves. Tending to my body like I tend to my plant babies, Skylar devotes time and attention to each new piece of skin he comes across, treating me as though I am something to be treasured.

The marker glides across my skin in effortless strokes, leaving a beautiful design on a broken girl. Skylar doesn’t say anythingwhile he works, he simply lets his hands and ink serve as a reminder.

I am a flower worth waiting for.

Skylar

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