Painting Sky (32 page)

“Ryan doesn’t like us being friends, either, does he?” I asked, maybe half an hour from home. It was a rhetorical question, but I wanted him to answer it.

Keith looked at me from the corner of his eye, making me aware that this was a subject he’d thought was closed. After a few minutes, he answered. “Ryan is your father’s son. Besides, he wants to protect you. Anyone who loves you wants to keep you away from me, as they should.” Once again, my mouth was hanging open. I turned all the way to him, pulling one leg up onto the seat.

“What the hell is wrong with you? Keith Hale, almighty Keith Hale, the most I-don’t-give-a shit-about-anyone, I-can-get-any-girl-I-want-by-snapping-my-fingers, Keith Hale is, in fact, a fake.” He looked at me, surprised. “Yeah, a fake. You don’t have a drop of self-esteem. You were supposed to be the most confident person in the world, yet you keep giving me that cryptic, rehearsed shit. And, yeah, I can cuss. I just didn’t feel like it, before.”

Keith swerved the car to park on the side of the road, which made the car behind us honk. He turned it off and got in my face, anger pouring from him.

“Is that before/after shit I don’t want, Skylar. There is no before. We’re still not friends, got it? I can get any girl I want. I could get you if I wanted, but I don’t.” The last word hung between us for a few seconds. I should have been mad for what he said, like some pathetic girl who’d fallen for him that easily, but, sadly, I was just hurt that he wanted anyone other than me.

He started the car and we kept driving for the next half hour, which seemed like six hours. I didn’t open my mouth the rest of the way. As much as I wanted to be a stronger girl, Keith kept crushing my chances.

No one was home when we got there, and the kitchen had a pile of dirty dishes in the sink. I didn’t feel like cleaning today, so I grabbed a bag of chips and a soda and went to my room, shutting the door with my foot.

M
onday came too fast. I had spent the rest of the evening in my room as I didn’t feel like talking to anyone. Cody and Ryan poked their heads in to greet me, but that was the extent of my social interactions. Keith’s words played around in my head.

I didn’t work on my drawings during the holiday, which, of course, granted me extra work and extra worry that I was about to fail this class. Today, we were drawing an older woman, and I swear even the model’s expression was condescending.

Later, I had lunch with Shelby, and I wished I had a friend I could confide in and tell all about my strange feelings for Keith and his disregard for me.

The rest of the week was uneventful. I didn’t see the boys much, which was good, because I decided to stop thinking about any of them and focus on my drawings. I also had finals to worry about for other classes, soon, so I had to bury my nose in my books.

Studying for theoretical classes was easier than drawing, which was really strange for me. I always preferred the latter, and my father’s words popped into my head from time to time. Should I think about changing majors? If I was falling for Keith, leaving was best for my sanity. I hoped it wouldn’t have to come to that, though. I didn’t want to be in so deep that Keith would dictate my life choices.

The first evaluation in my drawing class was at the end of the first week of December. I got a C. It was disappointing, but not a complete fail. I didn’t have the courage to tell my father that day, though, as it would be a victory for him. How could I make a living with something that I’d gotten a C in?

Later that night, I couldn’t sleep, so I went downstairs to warm some milk. I then sat on the couch, warming my hands around the cup. My wrist didn’t hurt, anymore, and I had already taken the wraps off. The house was still warm, but, with the heating turned down, it was colder in the living room. I hugged a blanket against me and leaned back, staring out the window and at the storm outside. I’d always loved storms, thunder, and heavy rain while snuggling on the couch.

Footsteps on the stairs startled me a few minutes later and Keith’s face was lit by lightning. He must’ve seen me at the same time, but, unlike me, he hadn’t known anyone was up. He jumped back and hit the wall.

“Jesus Christ, Skylar. Do you want to give me a heart attack?” He put his hand to his chest and came closer.

I finished the milk in one gulp. “You’re too young to have one,” I mumbled. I was finally relaxed. Either the milk or the storm had calmed me down, and Keith wasn’t going to ruin it.

“What are you doing up? Are you okay?”

I lifted my eyebrow at his concern. He hadn’t talked to me since our trip back. “Yeah.” I bit my lip, wanting to wrap up the pleasantries and go to bed. “Just couldn’t sleep. Milk helps, along with the rain.”

It was his turn to lift his brow. “The rain? You like watching?” He stepped closer and leaned against the couch. He was wearing shorts and no shirt. The room was dark, but I could still make out the tattoos on his torso. I had seen him naked too many times now, but the effect his body had on me was changing. It now made me uncomfortable.

The lightning increased outside, just leaving a few seconds between thunderclaps. Keith pushed away from the couch and extended his hand. “Come here. I want to show you something.” I eyed his hand suspiciously. He was being nice, but that could change any second, and I didn’t like to be played. “Come on,” he insisted. I followed, without touching him. He surprised me even more when our destination became clear: the attic. He’d forbidden me to step inside, but now I was about to discover his secrets?

“Wait here a minute.” He didn’t wait for my reply as he retrieved a key from his pocket, entered, and left me in the hall. I waited for two minutes, and almost decided to go back downstairs when he opened the door. “Close your eyes.”

I shook my head. “Nuh, uh.” I was not going to shut my eyes anywhere near Keith.

He let out an exasperated sigh and popped his neck. “Come on. It will be worth it—before the storm ends.” He extended his hand, once again, and this time I took it and closed my eyes. I kind of trusted him—physically, but not emotionally.

We stepped inside. “Lie down.” I still didn’t know if it was the thunder outside, the request, or the whisper, but I did what he asked. There was a soft mattress on the floor. The butterflies in my stomach terrified me. I should have been running out the door, but I obeyed.

Turning to the ceiling, I placed my free hand on my stomach, while the other was still interlaced with Keith’s. After what seemed an eternity, he whispered against my ear to open my eyes.

The ceiling had a huge skylight through which I could see the dark gray clouds. As if on cue, a lightning bolt crossed the sky. The storm was far away, but it felt like it was just over us.

“Wow,” I started, turning to Keith. “It’s… amazing.”

My thoughts were all over the place, and I envied this place. It must have been wonderful to paint here, with all the natural light. The most prevailing thought I had, however, was that I was in his attic. He didn’t bring anyone up here, but he’d brought me. Me.

After a few minutes of watching the lightning, I looked around the room for the first time. It was too dark to see anything and Keith automatically placed his hand on my chest and pushed me down again.

“No peeking, or you’ll have to leave.” Okay, maybe I wasn’t that special, if he wouldn’t let me see the room, itself.

I turned to him and whispered back. “What secrets do you keep up here?”

He looked at my face, lingering on my lips. The tight feeling in my belly was back.

“My heart,” he whispered.

My eyebrows shot up in astonishment and he didn’t explain any further. We kept watching the storm above us, until it turned to rain. It was almost as beautiful. The rain was loud, so, at first, I didn’t have any idea how he could have slept there. After a few minutes, however, it became a lullaby, and my eyes started closing.

I must’ve fallen asleep, because, after a while, Keith picked me up and took me to my bedroom. He placed me gently under the covers, tucking me in and kissing my forehead.

The next day, I woke up like I hadn’t in a long time: relaxed and rested. The events of the previous night kept playing in my head and my heart fluttered in my chest.

I could not fall for Keith. He would ruin me. I wouldn’t have a chance of getting out with my heart whole.

After taking a long, cold shower to clear my head, I headed downstairs, where I found Keith and my brother having breakfast in the kitchen. I bid them a good day and got a mumbled response from Keith, who was focused on his coffee mug.

He was already on cold mode. Maybe this was better. If he kept switching from caring Keith to the asshole version, I wouldn’t fall for him. He’d made it clear that I was no one to him—not even a friend. I couldn’t think any romantic thoughts about him. They wouldn’t take me anywhere.

“You want me to drive you to school? I have to go into the office,” Keith said. I pondered it and looked outside. It was still pouring and I did not want to walk to the bus.

I nodded, looking at my coffee. “Sure.”

After brushing my teeth and getting my bag, I walked outside, expecting him to be in the driver seat of his car. Instead, he was on my side, drumming his fingers on the dashboard.

Without knowing what to do, I opened the driver’s door and got inside. It was raining too much to linger at the door. “What?” I asked, frowning at him. My brother had already left, and, as far as I knew, Keith didn’t let anyone drive his car.

He lowered the radio’s volume. “You need to drive the car so I know if I can trust you with it.”

“Huh?” I wasn’t very eloquent this morning.

He sighed and messed with his hair: it was getting too long to keep tidy. Every time he wove his fingers through it, some strands stood upright. It was so distracting that I needed to shake my head to take my eyes off of him and listen to what he was saying.

“I want you to take the car to school. I’m going to have too much work the next few weeks and can’t take you. I won’t let you walk in this weather, though.”

I was shocked. Not even my father or brother trusted me with their cars. “Okay, but what if something happens? I’m not used to driving manuals.” And you treasure your car too much for me to wreck it. I looked at my shaking hands.

“That’s why I want you to drive with me.” He crossed his legs at the ankles and leaned back. My first attempt to start the car failed. I hadn’t driven a manual since I’d gotten my license. Keith had the patience to instruct me, and, when we arrived at the college parking lot, I was already used to it.

“See, it’s not that difficult. I’ll come by at the end of the day to get you, ‘kay?” He didn’t wait for my answer and left in the opposite direction I was going.

Professor Collins was in a special mood that morning. She not only criticized my drawings, but also every other student’s. She ended the class by yelling to us that we were below average, and that, at this point in the semester, we should be getting better, not worse. The last part was directed at me, and I shuddered at the thought that she was about to fail me.

I didn’t want to cry because of a class, but I kept playing her words in my head for the rest of my classes. At the end of the day, at the sight of Keith in his car, waiting for me, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel, and bouncing his head to the rhythm of the music, my heart contracted again. Said tears were about to fall. Keith’s eyes connected with mine and he instantly frowned, stopping the drumming and lowering the radio’s volume.

“What happened?” The concern in his voice was the last straw, and I started crying like an infant. My father’s words were playing in my head, mixed with my professor’s. I wasn’t good enough to be there—to compete for a place in Keith’s world.

His hand came to rest on my shoulder, hesitantly, and he squeezed lightly. “Tell me,” he whispered, worried.

After calming down enough to answer him, I turned, not meeting his worried eyes. I couldn’t get his caring side now, or I would break even harder. I had never been good at being consoled.

“It’s my drawing class, as usual. I think I’m going to fail.” I bit my lip to keep the trembling to a minimum, and Keith surprised me by tracing it with his finger, which released the pressure I was creating. I met his eyes, then, and was confronted with a torturous expression, which was quickly covered by his usual blank one.