Chapter 18
Chapter Eighteen
“You all right, Charlotte?” a voice asked, pulling me from a daze I hadn’t known I was in.
I blinked and the easel in front of me came into focus.
On it was the beginning of what I’d thought I wanted my final drawing to be.
Just the basic outline of a couple getting ready to kiss.
I’d taken inspiration from the one Roe and I had shared at lunch.
But as I’d been drawing, the bare bones of it coming together, I’d known it wasn’t right.
I didn’t know how long I had been sitting there, unsure how to proceed, but now students were leaving the class. I’d been so lost in my thoughts, I hadn’t even heard the bell.
I turned toward the voice that had pulled me back to reality.
Ezra Beckett was standing next to me, looking from my easel to me.
“Are you all right?” he asked again as he readjusted the strap of his messenger bag on his shoulder.
He was very tall, with messy, wavy, mid-length brown hair that had natural golden highlights.
His eyes were bright lime green with a dark rim bordering that pretty color and making it pop even more.
On the tops of his cheeks and across his nose, he had a splash of freckles that were only a little bit darker than his naturally tan skin.
I nodded. “It’s not right.”
He looked back at my drawing. “What’s your final?”
“What’s yours?” I shot back.
The corner of my rival’s mouth lifted. “You don’t lack skill. So I can only deduce that it’s the subject you’re being challenged on. If you’re supposed to draw a passionate couple, then you’re nailing it, and I would encourage you to keep going.”
Passionate, not loving. I knew there was something that wasn’t right, but I couldn’t figure it out. Even as I stared at it now and looked over what I had done so far, I had no clue how to fix it. All I could say was, “Thank you, Ezra.”
He nodded before leaving. I worked quickly to clean up my area. As I was washing charcoal off my hands, Ms. Clark looked over my drawing still pinned to the easel.
I put up my smock and walked over to her. “It’s getting tossed,” I said.
She didn’t ask why. Instead, she faced me. “Might I suggest drawing love between a parent and child?”
I had no idea what that looked like, and I knew it was crazy, but I felt like she was aware of that, too. “Why did you give me the subject of love?” I regretted it the moment I asked. I’d used to be someone who was careful and disciplined. Now I didn’t recognize myself anymore.
There was this relief that flickered in her eyes and was quickly hidden with determination. She walked away to where we kept our portfolios. She grabbed mine and tilted her head toward the front of the class. “Let me show you.”
I quickly collected my things, tossed the drawing I had been working on in the trash, and followed her over to her desk.
She began laying out some of my drawings, the first being the burnt butterfly.
The next was of a bird with a broken wing.
The one after that was of a woman’s back.
The main focus was how visible her ribs were—how the skin looked like a thin sheet draped over bone.
I had drawn it toward the beginning of the school year when Mother had been really cracking down on me about my weight.
The butterfly, bird, and starving woman had been smaller drawings from timed challenges.
The last one Ms. Clark pulled out was bigger and one that I had worked a long time on for an assignment.
I had drawn a male guardian angel with large, tattered wings that looked plucked in some areas and cut up in others.
He was kneeling in front of a recently dug grave while holding a child’s tiny shoe.
The drooping of his shoulders, the tattered wings resting on the ground, and the lowering of his head all showed his guilt and failure.
“You draw pain and sadness like it is all you know,” she said, making my anxiety build. “The only time I’ve seen you draw something that wasn’t heartbreaking was when you drew that motorcycle last year.”
“I don’t understand your point.” I did, but sometimes acting oblivious gave the other person doubts.
That didn’t seem to work on her.
“It isn’t a secret that artists use their art as a way to express what they are feeling or going through.”
“I still don’t understand,” I lied as I mentally kicked myself. I should have kept my mouth shut.
She stared at me as if searching for something, and when she found it, she looked disappointed. “I think you do.”
I didn’t respond to that. I couldn’t let this conversation continue.
Before I could put an end to it, she placed a gentle hand on my shoulder.
“When someone’s only known one thing their entire life, they will never understand what is missing.
Not unless they see for themselves. Then and only then do they realize that there needs to be a change.
They just have to be strong and brave enough to do it. ”
I stepped away from her, wanting space. “I’m not sure what you’re implying, but I need to go.” I turned for the door.
“Lottie, wait,” she said, and I could feel her following me.
I spun around feeling angry, scared, embarrassed, and confused. I couldn’t handle them all at once. So I latched onto the one emotion I knew would give me strength. “My final is not for you to use for some sort of social experiment on me.”
She looked taken aback. “That’s not—I’m trying to help you.”
“I don’t need help!” I erupted, making her go wide-eyed, before I left without looking back.
Roe was waiting for me in the student parking lot.
The pull and comfort I felt just seeing him there made me want to run to him.
I wanted him to hold me, but I kept my pace at a regular walk.
There were still students around and despite how disobedient I had been, part of me still felt the need to be careful.
Like there was still hope that I could fix things before Mother returned.
I didn’t know. I told myself I’d worry about it tomorrow.
I just wanted to hang out with Roe and, later on, with Wyatt.
“What’s wrong?” Roe asked as I approached.
I stopped a few feet from him. “Take me somewhere.”
“Where would you like to go?”
“I don’t care as long as I’m with you,” I told him.
He lifted his hand like he was going to reach for me, but then paused, glanced around, and dropped it back at his side as he balled it into a fist. “Are you hungry?”
I didn’t bother lying. “Yes, I’m hungry.”
I followed Roe to Noble’s Pub. It was practically a ghost town compared to how it had been Saturday. There were still a handful of patrons eating, drinking, and playing pool. Reid was working behind the bar and Mac was waiting on the few occupied tables.
Roe suggested we sit at the bar. Reid noticed us. As he walked over, his gaze didn’t waver from me until he was standing in front of us on the other side of the bar.
He looked to Roe. “Is this a date?”
“Does it matter?” Roe asked.
The muscle in Reid’s jaw ticked before he reluctantly started to say, “Are you—?”
A hand touched my shoulder. “Hey.” It was Mac. She was standing next to me, her eyes filled with concern. “How are you?”
I tensed up. “I’m fine.”
She leaned closer and, in a low voice, asked, “Are you sure?”
I nodded.
She didn’t look like she believed me, but she leaned away. “Do you need anything?”
I shook my head. “Roe and I were just about to order food.”
“Okay,” she said as she stared down at the floor, looking like something was really bothering her. “I’ve been worried about you all day.”
“Makayla?” Reid said, sounding concerned.
She snapped out of it and plastered a smile on her face. “Sorry. I’m good.” She looked at me. “Text me later, okay?”
I nodded. “I will.”
She walked away to go back to tending her tables. I faced forward and found Roe and Reid staring at me.
“Why is she worried about you?” Reid asked.
“Are you trying to determine whether I’m worth worrying about?
” I asked, still feeling raw from yesterday’s disagreement.
Instead of feeling hurt and drowning in self-pity, I was going to be angry.
That seemed to be the theme for me today.
“I grew up with money, so therefore I can’t possibly experience any form of hardship.
So I don’t know why you even need to ask.
” I glanced at Roe. “Please order me whatever you’re getting.
I need to use the restroom.” I slid off the stool and headed toward the back of the pub where the restrooms were.
For once, I actually needed to use it for its intended use instead of hiding.
When I was done and washing my hands, I stared at myself in the mirror.
I didn’t feel great, and therefore, I didn’t feel like I looked great even though I did.
My hair was down and straight today, making it seem extra long.
My makeup was flawless. Prue hadn’t packed my good concealer.
So I only had regular concealer and my hair to hide the bruises on my neck, but they were finally starting to fade.
I glanced down at my uniform, made sure my above-the-knee socks were staying in place, and smoothed away the nonexistent wrinkles on my blazer.
Just as I stepped into the hall, I found Reid. He was leaning with his back against the wall as if he had been waiting for me. As soon as I came out, he pushed away from the wall and stepped in front of me.
“Listen, about yesterday…” he started, and sighed as he struggled to figure out what to say next. “You don’t know me.”
“And you don’t know me,” I said.
His whiskey eyes met mine as he smirked. “You’d be surprised what I know about you.”
I didn’t hide the confused frown that took over my face. “What do you mean by that?” My mind immediately went to bad things like punishments, scars, and what had happened with Clay.
He shook his head. “It’s not my place to say.”
“So you’ve been judging me this whole time based on something you know about me, but it’s something you can’t tell me because it’s not your place to say?
” I said out loud, trying to make sense of it all.
I was so tired of people hiding shit from me, especially when it involved me, and leaving me with nothing but questions. Today with Ms. Clark had not helped.
“No, I haven’t been judging you—”
“You’ve been a super judgmental asshole from the first moment we met,” I pointed out.
“I came to apologize.”
“Well, you suck at it,” I blurted and felt a little bit guilty after.
He didn’t respond to that. He just stared, as unreadable as he always was.
“She’s cute, isn’t she?” a voice asked.
I looked past Reid to see Roe standing behind him, arms folded over his chest.
Reid turned around to face him. “Why are you asking me if I think your girlfriend is cute?”
“Because I know you,” Roe said, making it clear that he had heard our entire interaction.
They had a stare-off without either of them saying anything, until Reid broke it. He walked away, mumbling, “I need to get back to work.”
Roe stayed where he was, and I felt compelled to close the distance between us.
He watched me come to him until I was within reach.
His hand came up to cup my face and he leaned down to kiss me.
I thought it would just be a peck, but the moment his lips touched me, I wasn’t all right with that.
I pushed up on my toes to kiss him back.
He seemed to get the hint that I wanted more, and his other hand went to the small of my back as he deepened the kiss.
I moved my hands up until my fingers snaked into his hair on the back of his head.
I fisted it and pulled a little. He let out a throaty groan before walking me backward until I was pressed up against the wall.
The impact hadn’t been hard, but I couldn’t hold back from wincing when the bruises around my ribs barked in pain.
Roe pulled back just a little to say, “What’s wrong?”
I shook my head. “I wish we weren’t in public.”
“Same,” a voice said.
Roe and I both turned our heads to the right.
Near the entrance to the hall stood a man from the picture hanging on the wall with the guitars I’d seen in Roe’s house.
He and Roe looked so much alike. They had the same stormy blue eyes, same black hair, but this man’s had a little gray in it and was cut shorter.
He was dressed in a plain white T-shirt and well-worn light blue jeans.
His skin was tanner than Roe’s, as if he had spent long hours on his motorcycle in the sun.
He was just as heavily tattooed as Roe, if not more so.
Roe sighed and stepped away from me. “Dad, this is Lottie. Lottie, this is my dad, Noble.”
I pushed off the wall and walked toward him, offering him my hand. “It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Walker.”
He took my hand with a smile. “It’s nice to meet you, Lottie.” As he stared at me, his smile dropped. “Have we met before?”
I tried not to blush as I remembered yesterday.
“You walked in on us yesterday morning, remember?” Roe said as he came to stand next to me.
His dad shook his head. “Not that.” He couldn’t take his eyes off me. “You look so familiar. I swear we’ve met before.”
“I don’t remember ever meeting you, Mr. Walker,” I said.
“Call me Noble, please,” he insisted.
Roe put his hand on the small of my back. “We ordered food. So we should get back.”
Noble nodded and stepped aside so we could walk by. We were only a few feet away when he asked, “What’s your last name, Lottie?”
Roe and I paused to glance back at him. “Kendry,” I answered.
His eyes widened as he looked from me to his son and back to me.
“Dad, you okay?” Roe asked.
Noble quickly turned and began walking away. “Yeah, ignore me. I—I just remembered I gotta make a call.”
Roe and I stared at each other, confused, before Roe closed his eyes and shook his head. “Let’s go eat.”