Chapter 22
Kjell
Two weeks have passed since Sky and I arrived on ?land. Fourteen days during which I've felt like an impostor. Every time I pretend to set out on a photography tour, I end up sitting in a café with my laptop, typing one gossip article after another about random celebrities for Ryktesspegeln . Every time she reveals another detail from her life to me.
Whenever we laugh together. And she looks at me with that openness, as if she trusts me unconditionally.
With each passing day, she has become more relaxed, and her aloofness has become a rarity. Today is no different.
"The L?nge Erik is super cool," she exclaims, pointing ahead.
Her glowing cheeks stand out against the wintry island backdrop as we walk along the beach.
I tear my gaze away from her, which has begun to stir feelings of guilt within me more and more often.
Whatever this feeling is, my head knows it's not real. But when she's near, my heart seems to care little about that fact.
Sky remains unaware of my inner turmoil as she cheerfully reminisces, "Lil and I used to pretend we were shooting catalog pictures for our self-made collections there every summer."
Determined not to let my emotional turmoil get the better of me, I focus on the lighthouse a few hundred yards ahead, reaching into the sky.
Its white stone facade hardly stands out against the landscape, but the dark blue ring halfway up and the revolving light in the red dome make it impossible to miss.
"We would sometimes raid Mom's closet and mix and match everything wildly," Sky continues, clearly lost in her memories, this time with a smile on her face.
"Fashion is your life," I say, fearing I might be smiling. But seeing that dreamy expression on her face somehow makes me happy.
"It's the fabrics. How they feel, how they flow, how they smell. How you can combine them to create something unique," she explains.
"That sounds amazing," I reply, and together we circle the lighthouse to find the entrance. I gallantly hold the door open for her.
"It truly is," she says with an upbeat grin. "Moreover, I believe fashion can change people."
I hadn't looked at it that way before, but there's something to it. "Because it feels different," I add as we step through the door. In the room, I notice carefully arranged items from the lighthouse's past against the stone wall. An oversized lamp, a simple control unit, metal bottles. "Do you design your own clothes too?"
Sky vehemently shakes her head. "You need a lot of talent for that." A hint of nostalgia briefly crosses her face but quickly fades. "So once again, imagine a woman who thinks she's ugly. When she sees herself in a beautiful dress in the mirror, it does something to her." Sky continues with enthusiasm as we climb the steep spiral staircase, sharing more about her deep passion. "As a fashion designer, you can bring a smile to people's faces," she says as we reach the top of the lighthouse.
I step out onto the platform with her. A cold wind creeps down my neck. The smell of seaweed and the roaring of the wild Baltic Sea out here at the tip of the peninsula engulf me.
So this is what matters to her. Not money or fame. She wants to make people happy.
"You're amazing," I find myself murmuring gently from the depths of my heart, as I have so many times in the past few weeks.
"What did you say?" Sky looks at me questioningly.
I should answer that you're amazing , but instead, I reply, "This is amazing," feeling like a fool once more.
This woman shuts off my brain. A smile is enough. A few words. A touch. It's crazy.
I turn away and gaze out at the sea, which is just as turbulent as I am.
She gently nudges me. "Don't you want to take some photos?"
"Photos?" I ask absentmindedly.
The wind pushes Sky's hair into her face, but I can still see the creases on her forehead. "For your photo book."
Right. My photo book that doesn't actually exist.
Or maybe it does. Who knows, maybe I'll actually put together a volume on the wild beauty of ?land in winter?
No, I didn't really lie. Or did I?
"Do you have a fear of heights?" Sky asks.
Quickly, I reach for my camera. "I'm fine," I reply softly, capturing the breathtaking scenery. I photograph a flock of seagulls soaring through the air, screeching, and the steep cliffs where the spray breaks.
On the third picture, Sky's hair blows into my lens. The red shade provides a striking contrast to the snowy white landscape and the pale gray sky.
Instead of asking her to step aside, I snap the photo with a grin. "I guess rule number one no longer applies."
"What rule?" Sky leans over the railing, savoring the wind against her face.
I lower the camera. "No photos of you."
She turns to me in slow motion. Our eyes meet, and even though the air out here at the end of the island is as clear as anywhere else, I feel like I'm not getting enough oxygen.
"Why?" Confusion is clearly visible on her face.
With wobbly legs, I step closer to her and show her the last photo on my camera's display. The stray light is so intense that I have to shield the screen from the brightness and press close to Sky so she can see anything.
"Well, I'm afraid I have to confiscate this picture," she says with an amused smirk.
"Should I delete it right away?" My finger hovers over the Delete button. Her answer doesn't matter at all, has no significance whatsoever. Still, my heart rate accelerates as if this were somehow important.
Suddenly, her fingers are on mine. Tender and warm. Almost imperceptibly, they glide over my skin, leaving an intense tingling sensation in their wake.
She lifts her eyes and shakes her head. "It's yours."
That's all she says. Just those little words, yet the observation deck beneath my feet suddenly seems to tremble.
I put the camera away. "Okay," I say hoarsely.
"You know what?" She keeps looking at me, drawing me in, refusing to let me go.
I lean in a bit closer to her; her breath grazes my cheek. "What?"
The delicate vein in her neck pulses. She nibbles on her lower lip. "Take another one."
I can't stop staring at her lips. Can't control my movements any longer and lose control of my mind. "Another what?"
"Another photo." Her face comes closer. "Of both of us," her mouth whispers, and suddenly, all the questions in my head revolve around those lips.
How do they taste? What do they feel like? How would they react if I kissed them?
"We should..." Sky says more, maybe, but I don't hear it. There's only my own heartbeat dominating the soundscape.
As if in a trance, we get closer to each other. I smell her delicate scent, see the slightly parted lips and the pink-tinted cheeks.
Just a small fraction of an inch, and our noses will touch. Her chest vibrates.
A jolt runs through my body, tearing Sky and me apart.
"Excuse me," a male voice rumbles.
I whirl around. Who was that?
Confused, I look into a weathered face. "I need to get through," the man says. He pushes past Sky, who immediately ducks to the side and tucks her hair behind her face. We both watch him go. I have no idea what's going on in her mind, but I hardly understand what almost happened just now. All I know is that there's now at least one step of distance between Sky and me. And that's a good thing.
"We should go," she mutters. "I still have work to do."
I nod, then I gesture toward the door leading into the lighthouse interior. "After you."
For a fleeting moment, she lets me see the sheer panic in her eyes. Then she marches off robotically, and I sense all too clearly that she's not alone in her fear of what we were about to do.