Chapter 20 Derek #2
I flip to the next page. It’s blank, untouched. Waiting. Taunting me, daring me, mocking me, laughing at me.
My breath catches. My fingers itch. I start to drown, there’s no saving me.
“You can use my sketchbook if you want,” Daniel’s soft voice breaks through the darkness engulfing me like a single ray of scorching sunlight.
“Huh?”
He’s turned around and is watching me with his arms crossed over his chest. There is a splotch of green on his left cheek, and a bit of blue on the right one, but he doesn’t seem to care. “You can use my sketchbook if you want.”
Goosebumps erupt all over me. I didn’t hear him wrong then. “Why are you looking at me? Shouldn’t you not be getting distracted?”
He smiles and shakes his head. “You were so quiet I thought you might’ve fallen asleep.”
I poke the top of the pencil with my finger, then press it to my chest as I inhale deeply. “I am not bored, Daniel. Quite the contrary. I love watching you paint so much it makes me want to try it, too.”
My confession catches me off-guard. I didn’t mean to say this, but the words just came out of me on their own. Panic surges through me, vile and unforgiving, once again clamping its powerful hands around my neck.
Daniel uncrosses his arms and puts his brush down. “You used to, didn’t you?”
The cat is out of the bag. There’s no point denying it now or trying to hide it, he’ll know I am lying.
Swallowing down the sensation of drowning, I look out the window, unable to hold his inquiring gaze. “For a bit, a long time ago. But it was pointless, so soon after, I gave it up.”
He walks over to me and cradles my chin, gently rubbing it. “I don’t think that’s true, or you wouldn’t know so much about art.”
“That’s not—”
He presses his finger to my mouth, shushing me. “I’ve seen the way you look at art, Derek.”
I can’t do this. My blood pounds in my ears, my body tenses up. It’s too much. I need to leave, to run away and—
He clasps my chin harder, forcing me to look at him. “Don’t hide from it. From what you want, from who you are. Just listen to your heart and follow it.”
Tears sting the inside of my eyes, and it takes me all my willpower to keep them at bay. Fuck, I can’t. I’m a mess, I need to go. “I can’t.”
His gentle fingers massage my jaw as his gaze fills with fondness. “You can. Don’t fight it. Don’t try to rationalize your way out of it. Just give it a try, even if it’s scary.” His right hand wraps around the one I’m squeezing the pencil with. “Trust me.”
He kisses me softly on the lips, then lets go, returning to his painting like I’m not even there. It’s his way to give me space, to let me figure this out on my own while still being there for me if I need him.
I bury my face in my palms, focusing on inhaling and exhaling.
After a while, I calm down sufficiently so I can go back to watching him paint.
It’s so relaxing, the way he moves, the way the painting comes alive little by little.
I’m so hypnotized, I don’t notice the pencil I’m still holding until I’m absentmindedly dragging it across the blank page of his sketchbook.
A twinge of panic almost undoes me. I haven’t touched a pencil or pen in over fifteen years.
But with every passing second, the feeling returns to me like I never lost it, and before long I can’t stop myself.
It’s like I’ve suddenly been possessed, I’m powerless to resist it, and so I don’t, letting my heart guide me.
My lines are shit. They zigzag. They are jagged.
They break up. But still I continue, a vessel to some muse that’s been hiding inside me.
My eyes dart between the paper and Daniel, hungry, desperate, frantic, just like my hand.
The ugly sketch takes on his shape just barely, mocking me for even trying.
I hate this. I gave it up, I tossed it away so I could become more. I am not an artist, I’m the CEO of a billion-dollar tech empire.
What was I thinking?
Panting, I shove the sketchbook and pencil away. They crash onto the floor with a thud, startling Daniel.
“Sorry. I didn’t mean to make you jump.”
I need to leave. I need to be outside, or somewhere dark, so I can find myself again.
“It’s okay, but… Are you okay?” His eyebrows bunch together.
He puts the brush away again, picks up the sketchbook and kneels down in front of me, patting my knee.
“I didn’t mean to overstep, but… I think you need this.
I know it’s scary and that it made you angry, but I’m proud of you for not running away from this, Derek. Maybe one day—”
No. “I need to go.” I can’t entertain that kind of thinking, I just… I can’t.
Daniel’s face falls, and it breaks my heart.
This is not his fault, this is all me, yet he’s still sad on my behalf.
Fuck, this was such a bad idea. The whole thing.
I should’ve never talked to him, but how could I not?
His passion touched me, even through stupid text messages.
I had to see it for myself, to let the magic touch me even if I knew it would burn me.
I pull Daniel into my arms and inhale him. “It’s okay. I’ll be fine. I just… I need to go. Thank you for today, I loved watching you paint. It’s magical.”
His small, sad smile is enough to let me know he’ll be fine.
I leave without waiting for his response, feeling like ants are crawling under my skin and eating into my flesh.
The twilight outside welcomes me, foreboding but pretty, and for the first time in forever, I just wander around Seattle aimlessly, unsure what I’m even searching for.