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Taking a bite of one of the lemon bars she left behind, I frown at the lined piece of paper in front of me while I chew. “Fuck it,” I mutter out loud before I start writing.
Sunshine –
Don’t let the tattoos fool you—I know how to read... there are just other ways I prefer to spend my time.
The time it takes me to finish a piece depends on how obsessed I am with its subject. Most of the time, you’re right—I’ll work on a single project for months. I get bored easily and tend to have more than one project going at once to keep myself interested.
I suspect that I could finish a drawing of you in less than a week.
You want to find out?
p.s. ambivalent? who’s the liar now?
p.p.s. my dick and I have discussed it and we’ve decided that if you’re here when we wake up and you agree to let us draw you, you can stare at it as much as you want.
Friday morning it’s cinnamon rolls the size of my fist. The quiet stillness of the house tells me everything I need to know—Kait isn’t here.
Shoving the covered plate off the notebook its sitting on top of, I flip it open and scan through our back and forth until I get to her reply.
James –
A week?
It sounds like you and your dick are a little obsessed with me. Running the risk of hurting its feelings all over again, I have to be honest—if I were to agree to model for you, staring at your dick wouldn’t be what I’d ask for as payment.
Regardless, I wouldn’t know the first thing about modeling for an artist. I’m afraid I’d only disappoint the both of you.
Kait
p.s. the cinnamon rolls have pecans in the filling—just in case you have a nut allergy
Closing the notebook without writing a reply, I ignore the cinnamon rolls and fresh coffee she left behind and go back to bed.
NINETEEN
Kaitlyn
Brock and I had our official coming out last night. He picked me up, just like my father said he would, at six o’clock on the button. Abbey dragged a kitchen chair up the stairs to our bedroom so I’d have a place to sit while she curled my hair and did my make-up from the contraband stash under her bed.
When he knocked on the front door, Abbey caught my gaze in the mirror. “Kaity—”
“It’s okay.” I give her a reassuring smile, even though I want to climb out the window and hightail it to the barn so I can hide out in Two-tone’s stall. “It’s just dinner and a movie at The Square.” The Square is just that—a square-shaped patch of tree-line grass with a gazebo and a few park benches, and a bronze statue of my great-great-great-great-great grandfather, Elias Barrett, set between the churches at the top of Main Street. The town council shows movies on the bright white side of Barrett Valley Baptist every Friday night—their attempt at keeping the kids busy and out of the Saddle on the weekends. “I’ll be fine.” Neither of us have talked about the episode with Brock on Monday afternoon but the look she gives me when I say it tells me she knows I’m lying.
Instead of saying it out loud, Abbey gives me a nod. “Maybe it won’t be so bad.” Turning away from me to start putting her make-up back in its shoebox. “It’s been years since you two broke up. Maybe things will be better this time around.” When I broke up with Brock she was barely fifteen—not old enough to confide what really happened between us. All she knows is that I don’t want to marry him—not why.
“Maybe—thanks for the makeover.” I gave her a smile before making my way downstairs.
It went better than I expected. Brock was on his best behavior—he told me I looked nice in my borrowed skirt and opened his truck door for me while my father watched from the front porch. Not because he wanted to make sure Brock was a gentleman but because he wanted to make sure I didn’t do or say anything that would jeopardize whatever bargain he’s made with Brock’s father.
In town, he opened my door again and helped me down from his truck, putting on a show for everyone watching. After dinner at the diner, we walked to The Square rather than drive because the whole point of this is to be seen. When he reached for my hand while we walked, I let him hold it. When he tugged me down to sit next to him on one of the blankets the church ladies spread out on the ground in front of the makeshift movie screen, I let him put his arm around me.
I smiled and laughed. Nodded and waved at the people around us who’re watching our every move. By the time the movie was over, everyone in Barrett Valley knew that Brock and I were back together and speculation was already beginning to brew.
I thought about James the entire time.
While people were thinking I was smiling because I’m back in Brock Morris’s good graces and that he’s forgiven me for the monumental mistake I made when I broke up with him three years ago, or blushing over something he said to me, I was thinking about Damien’s brother and wishing I had the guts to model for him like he’s been asking me to for the past few days... or maybe just do what I really want to do. What, once this thing with Brock is done, I’ll never have the chance to do again.
After the movie, Brock drove me straight home and walked me to the door. Even though my father had long gone to bed, all he did was give me a chaste peck on the cheek and say, next Friday?—miles away from the man who grabbed my arm and spit jealous accusations in my face just a few days earlier. That’s always been the trouble with Brock. You never know which version of him you’re going to get.