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“You’ll see.”
I take the exit out of West Heights and drive until reaching Groves Point, the scenic area not so frequented by our peers. I glance at Kayla. She’s gazing out the window, visibly in awe of the endless foliage. Her glee makes me smile.
Another few minutes, I veer off the road and continue down the gravel path until arriving at the destination.
I kill the engine and stare out the windshield at the pond.
Sunlight dazzles on the water.
Lush trees and flowers are in full bloom, shading the area. Birds are chirping.
It’s a relief no one’s here.
“This is gorgeous,” Kayla murmurs. “I should’ve—”
“On the backseat,” I tell her, knowing what she wants.
She peers around. “You brought me here to sketch?”
“To hang out. Sketch if you want.”
She eyeballs me.
I exit the car and grab the cooler from the back.
Kayla retrieves the sketchbook and pencils, then makes her way down the short trail, stopping at the edge of the water.
Setting the cooler in the grass, I straighten to speak to her but freeze from the way sunbeams highlight Kayla’s indescribable beauty.
She’s like a deity, an angel on earth. She senses me watching and slowly turns, stealing the air from my lungs with her captivating gaze.
“I brought lunch,” I tell her, composing myself. “Our cook made pasta salad.”
She snorts. “Of course, you have a personal cook.”
I shrug and motion to the rocks.
Kayla hands me the bag with the croissants before sitting on the rock opposite me, placing the sketchbook and pencils on her lap.
I bite into the pastry and moan in the sweetness. “It’s good. Thanks.”
She beams at that. “My dad’s pretty great. You should stop by the bakery sometime.”
I bob in agreement while finishing the croissants.
Her expression turns to that of intrigue. “Um, I’ve heard from pretty much everyone that I’m the first girl you’ve given this much attention. But I’m still curious, haven’t you ever liked anyone before?”
Grabbing water from the cooler, I drink a bit then answer. “Of course, I’ve had desires. But I’ve never allowed myself to act on them.”
She dips her head and squints at me. “Why not?”
“I was afraid I’d hurt someone.” It’s the truth. I’m still scared I’ll hurt her if I’m not careful.
Breaking eye contact, she moistens her lips and glances at the water. I can see the wheels turning. She’s trying to detect the story beneath my words.
I look at her fingers, trailing over the cover of the sketchbook.
“Draw me,” I tell her.
