Painting Sky (18 page)

His hand stilled on the doorknob. “Oh, and, Skylar, could you change?” He looked all over my body, almost disgusted, and made me shiver. “You look like a whore.” After that, he went to his room and left me shaking with rage and embarrassment.

After opening my door and stepping into my sanctuary, I sat against the door and let a few tears run down my cheeks. Was that what Cody thought? Could he have lost his interest in me because I looked so easy tonight? That had been my point, exactly, but I guess it had backfired. I looked ridiculous now, but, not wanting to go out of my room still looking like this, I got up, yanked my clothes off, and went to my dresser. I took out my favorite sweatpants and a shirt, and put them on.

I caught my reflection in the wall mirror. My make-up was running down my face, making me look like a real monster. I had some make-up remover in a drawer, so I didn’t have to go out into the hallway.

The black contact lenses were the last to come off. I still stared into the mirror for some time, wondering if I would feel so exposed if that was the real color of my eyes, and not the freakish light gray that stared at me every day. I snuggled under the covers with my childhood teddy bear as company. Everyone made me feel like a child, so what did it matter if I did something childish to make me feel better? Or, at least, to make me feel not so alone.

T
he next day, I woke up to sounds out in the hallway. I peeked through my key hole and saw Shelby leaving Keith’s room and going down the stairs, heels in hand. Talk about the walk of shame.

If she wanted to catch something, I wouldn’t be the one to deter her. I had already said enough about him as a warning.

I had seen this happen too often at our high school: girls thought they would have a one night stand with him and walk away without a scratch. That hadn’t happened often, though.

They’d all wanted more.

Something he couldn’t give: love.

I think he was incapable of loving someone. He had even stopped going home to visit his parents, and his relationship with his brother was strained, to say the least.

Love and Keith didn’t mix.

I got up and went to the bathroom with some clean jeans and a green shirt, trying to not make a sound. I wanted to feel clean before facing the world.

When I stepped into the kitchen and saw that Keith was already up and standing next to the fridge with a cup of coffee in one hand, no shirt, and just-had-sex hair, I wondered if I could face my day without any food. I had two options: avoid my everyday tasks because of him, or not let him disrupt my life.

“Good morning, ray of sunshine.” He understood that I was mad at him, and his sarcasm was turning my bad mood up a notch. I tried to avoid touching him when I went to take out the milk from the fridge, failing for a fraction of a second. I grabbed the cereal box and sat on a stool, ignoring him.

“Oh, someone seems to be in a bad mood. Didn’t enjoy the party? It didn’t look that way yesterday.” He leaned over the counter, getting into my personal space. That personal space, when it came to Keith, was about a foot away, though.

“I am trying very hard not to acknowledge you at all. Believe me: it’s for your own good,” I whispered slowly, not lifting my eyes to meet his.

“Someone is in a bad mood. What? Didn’t get laid?” He laughed.

The anger that had been consuming me since last night came boiling up, now. I stood and stepped in front of him. The smirk on his face was my downfall. I threw my arm back and slapped him so hard in the face that his head bounced back. He’d realized what I was about to do the second before my hand had collided with his skin, but he hadn’t been fast enough to stop me.

I heard a couple of gasps behind me and turned to the door. Of course, my brother and Cody would be there to watch. They were so surprised at me that they didn’t even move. Jane Keaton, the good girl who never hurt anything in her life had just slapped someone.

Keith was rubbing his face and frowning at me.

Ryan stepped forward and grabbed my elbow. “What the hell, Jane? What’s gotten into you?”

I should have given an explanation—something to excuse me—like telling my brother and boyfriend that Keith had called me a whore yesterday and had just hinted at the same thing a couple of minutes ago, but I didn’t. I didn’t know why. Why was I protecting him from their wrath? My inner excuse was that I didn’t want Cody and Keith’s relationship to get even more strained.

“I-I… need to go.” I yanked my arm and ran out of the house, forgetting that I didn’t have a car to drive.

The first of November was cold with freezing wind that knocked my breath away. I had forgotten my jacket, as well. Could Keith mess my life more than he already had?

I walked for a couple of hours around town, bought and ate a cupcake with the change in my pocket, and started walking back home. When I was at the beginning of the road that led to the house, rain started pouring.

“Great,” I screamed at the sky. This was my punishment for slapping someone, even if that someone had offended me profoundly—even if that someone was now stepping out of his black car and walking toward me with one of my jackets in his closed fist.

When he reached me, I turned away and walked a couple of steps in the direction of the house. “Damn, Skylar,” he muttered, grabbing my elbow just like my brother had done a few hours ago. I yanked back automatically, which made me lose my balance and fall into a mud puddle.

“Shit! Damn you!” I yelled. Another habit I was acquiring while at his house was yelling and swearing.

“You were the one pushing me.” He grabbed my arm again and I shook off his hold. “Stop fighting. Let me help you.” He forced his hold this time, not giving me a chance to run.

“You’re hurting me,” I whined.

He gave a dry laugh. “Well, you marked your pretty fingers on my face. We’re even.”

I looked up and there they were: the fading red marks on his cheek. “I’m sorry,” I blurted before thinking. Understanding my mistake, I covered my mouth, frowning angrily.

This time, Keith did laugh out of amusement. “Yeah, I’m not sure if I’m accepting that apology because it did come from your heart, or if I’m not accepting because your mind wasn’t in it.” He directed me to his car and I almost apologized again because of the mess I was in. Clearly I was going to get it all dirty, and I had been in it before and had seen that he kept it almost obsessively clean.

“Put your jacket on, or you’re going to get sick.”

I didn’t want to do a thing he asked of me, but I was kind of cold. I didn’t have a choice, but to pretend he hadn’t been the one reminding me of the fact it was freezing and that I was drenched in mud.

The short ride was quiet, of course, and I couldn’t wait for us to get home so I could shower again and cuddle under my covers. The car had barely stopped and I already had one leg outside.

“Wait, please, Skylar.” I jumped out and stopped by the door only because I didn’t have my key. My pride took another nosedive. I turned to him, crossing my arms, but I didn’t meet his eyes.

“Look at me.” He stepped in front of me and caged my body with his arms. I looked up, warning him with a pointed look. He still had another side of his face for me to mark up. He held my face in his hands and my arms shot up, grabbing at his wrists to pull him off. I struggled for a second, but he made me step back, against the door and framed my face forcefully. I did look up and met his worried expression. What now?

“I’m sorry,” he said, slowly, like I was a frightened animal. “If all you need is to slap me again, go ahead, but, please, forgive me for what I said yesterday. It was… uncalled for.” He averted his eyes, then.

“‘Uncalled for,’ Keith?” I shook my head and he released me. “You offended me when I did nothing to deserve it. You were the one coming out of the bathroom, rearranging your clothes.”

He nodded and looked away, sighing to the woods. “I know. I was an asshole and you’re right: you shouldn’t forgive me. It’s better this way.” He removed the key from his front pocket and turned for the door.

He went inside and left the door open for me. I took a second going inside and went to take a much-needed hot shower.

After putting on clean clothes and loading the washing mashing with the rest of the laundry, I went to my room. My brother and Cody had started yelling a couple of minutes ago, so I knew they were playing games in the living room. I had yet to talk to Cody, but he didn’t seem interested, so I would put off that argument for another time. I was already exhausted. I just needed this weekend to go by quickly, and then classes could distract me.

The deadline for my art class portfolio was closing in and I had nothing worthy to show. If Keith wasn’t such a pain, he could’ve helped me long ago and things would have been much more pleasant in this house.

This was all his fault, but the haunted look on his face when he apologized this afternoon was haunting me. He even made me feel guilty when he was the one in the wrong. I groaned and got up to search for him, but, of course, he would be in the damn attic. I knocked several times before he heard me. The music was so loud that I couldn’t hear myself think.

He cracked the door open, not surprised that I was the one knocking. I think I was the only one who disrupted his time up there, because my brother and Cody had learned long ago that he didn’t want to be bothered while working.

A smear of black coated half of his cheek, and I couldn’t meet his eyes, so I focused on the paint. We stood for a full minute before I gathered the courage to say the words. They would come back to bite me in the ass, I knew. It was just a matter of time before he screwed up again.

“I still don’t understand why you said what you said—hell, I can’t understand you ninety percent of the time. But,” I inhaled a full breath, “I forgive you. I still don’t know why, but deep down, I forgive you.” I raised my eyes to finally meet his. The dim light coming from inside cast shadows over his face, making him look more dangerous than I knew he was.

What I wouldn’t give to have his eye color. The dark gray was much more appealing than mine.

“You shouldn’t.” Yes, I knew he would screw up again, but not so soon. Was he making me work for the apology? I mean, for the forgiveness? What a mess. He was too complicated. As if he were reading my thoughts by my deep frown, he added, “I don’t deserve it. I am screwed up, I will offend you again, and I will make you mad again. I don’t want you to forgive me. I don’t deserve that. What I said yesterday was to hurt you on purpose.”

I stepped back on that one. What?

He winced at his own words. “I’m not good for you. Not a good friend, anyway. It’s best if you hate me. It’s easier that way.”

“Easier for whom?” I asked, before I could comprehend what he was saying. I knew he’d hated me before, but I thought it had all stayed behind when I’d come to live here. “I thought you were going to help me with my drawings.” That was my pathetic way of grasping for something left of our barely-existent friendship.

He scratched his forehead and sighed. “I won’t leave you stranded. I will help you, if you still want. Then we go back to the ignoring each other. Agreed?”

No, but what could I say? I couldn’t tell him I felt lonely and beg him to not be another friend to leave me behind. I shrugged and went to my room. He was completely right: he was complicated, and didn’t deserve my forgiveness or friendship. So why did I feel like someone had punched me in the stomach?