Page 46 of Chalk Outline
He keeps looking at me, and I wonder what’s going through his mind. What images thread through his thoughts? I wonder if I can make him feel... more, maybe even happy, if only for a moment. I’ll take it.
“Why do you like moths so much?” I ask.
He contemplates for a moment. “They felt like a calming symbol in all the chaos that was my life.”
I close one eye and twitch my mouth to the side. “Don’t want to elaborate?”
“Not really.”
“Want to watch a movie?”
“Which one?” he asks, putting my sketchbook back on the desk.
“Spirited Away.”
He quirks an eyebrow at me. “Is that the one you’ve been nagging me about for weeks?”
“Yeah…”
“Okay.” He shrugs, making his way to my bed.
“Brace yourself,” I declare, pulling my laptop out of my backpack. “This is going to be an epic experience for you. I wish I could see it for the first time, too.”
He stares at me, expressionless, but that fleeting glint beneath the surface is what I crave in every conversation; in every moment we share—that moment, his true self reflects and reveals itself to me.
He lowers himself onto my bed and leans against the headboard. His hands glide over the fluffy sheets. A small grin appears when he spots my pumpkin plushie there. He tucks it to his chest, and I set the laptop between us before taking the empty spot beside him.
The movie loads, and I lean back against the headboard when it starts. My shoulders relax, and my thoughts settle down. But only when I’m around him. He has that calming energy about him that puts me in a time-out.
After the first quarter of the movie, his hand finds mine under the blanket I pulled over my legs, and we intertwine our fingers as we continue watching quietly.
Our warmth burns in the best way, and knots tighten in my core, pulling the strings that lace around my center.
I steal a quick glance while he remains focused on the screen.
Why does he have to be so breathtaking? It’s not fair.
He holds my hand the entire time, and when the movie ends, he turns his head to me and asks, “Can we watch it again?”
I see him, and he feels every fervent heartbeat calling his name.
It was forbidden from the start, and our late-night talks and morning banter only added to the pile. Grandma must have known this would happen. Our lives had already started fusing the moment we were forced under the same roof.
I grin, my heart swells in my chest. “Sure.”
Still in my pajamas, I swing my legs over the side of the bed. Jason hasn’t said a word yet. I assume he’s still asleep, probably knocked out cold.
I grab my sketchbook and a pen from my bag. Inspiration strikes me like lightning. My hand guides the pen with ease as I draw a bleeding shadow with sharp teeth and smoke around it on the balcony of a tall tower. I frame it and draw another frame next to it. Inside, I depict Jason just as he appeared to me last night: lethal, masked, bleeding, smoking a cigarette. I accentuate his tormented eyes and his dark energy.
I lose myself in the details for a while.
For some reason, Jason reminds me of No-Face and Haku from my favorite movie,Spirited Away, a subtle mix between the two.
I used to nag my husband about that movie and make him watch it with me a hundred times until we quoted the characters word for word.
I blink, and a tear rolls down my chin, dampening the paper.
What is wrong with me?
