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I smiled, still in awe. He had moved his piece and was waiting patiently for me to take my turn.
“It’s your move son,” he mumbled without even looking up from the board.
I glanced at my mom, blinking a few times before turning back to the board. “Thank you, Dad, I’m pretty sure you’re going to beat me.”
After he had indeed beaten me at three games of chess, he announced he was tired. He gave my mom a hug and shook my hand, giving me another hint to “talk to my father” before he left and went to his private room. Once we got to our cars, I flashed my mom a smile.
“He’ll never know what he gave me, will he?”
“He knows,” she replied.
Chapter Twelve
-Jamie-
“Okay so if we leave early Saturday morning we can potentially be in Park City that same night.” I showed Elliot the map on my laptop. “It’s a ten-hour drive, but I figured with stops it will be closer to twelve. How early do you want to leave? You have a show on Friday, right?”
Over the past few weeks Elliot and I had at least tried to form a friendship. He would text me everyday, and I would respond. We even FaceTimed a few times as we did silly tasks around the house. If nothing else, it helped us become comfortable talking with each other. Most of the time, while I was home doing the dishes, he was still at the office finishing up a few things. I would watch as he would throw his coat on and, once he was outside, we said our goodbyes. The conversations were light, but had become routine. We never asked each other personal questions, and didn’t sayanything that even remotely hinted that we were going to be taking a three week vacation together soon. It was just as if he was a long-time friend who just wanted to catch up.
Like I said. Comfortable.
The FaceTime we had planned for tonight, to talk about our route, ended up with Elliot sitting at my dining room table. He had his chin resting in his palm, looking at the blue line that led from Portland to Park City. He quickly lowered his hand and turned the computer to face him.
“Well yea, but can’t we just fly?” Elliot furrowed his eyebrows at the screen.
“No, we can’t. I plan on taking a painting with us and driving will be easier to transport it and make sure it gets there safely. Plus, my Corolla gets pretty good gas mileage.” Pulling my computer back towards me, I looked at Elliot as a single eyebrow raised.
“Do you have four-wheel drive?” he asked simply.
I met his gaze. “No.”
“Utah has been having a heavy winter, so we may want to take my Jeep. It will be safer.”
“I guess you have a point, my sister mentioned the snowfall being heavy.” Once again, I looked at the Google map on the screen. 790 miles, and that was just to Park City—that didn’t count the driving we would do around town. “I’ll help pay for gas of course, and I guess there will be more room for the painting.”
“Are you entering it in the art’s fest?” he asked quietly.
He began to take in my apartment, observing all the paintings on the wall and art supplies scattered about. He left the table and walked around, slipping his hands in his jean pockets. Walking up to my large desk that faced the large window in the living room, his concentration was focused on everything that lay on the table. Completely covered with sketch pads and paint brushes propped up in cups, he lightly ran his fingers along the bristles. Next to my desk sat my pottery wheel, and a giant bag of clay next to that.
“I plan to.” I swallowed, finally breaking the silence.
“How long have you been painting?” he asked, turning his body to look back at me.
I took a deep breath. Did I really want him to know this information about me? Did heneedto know? A part of me was saying no—that was too personal—but the other part said he needed to know so if my family were to ask, he would know the answer. I could give him a vague answer–he didn’t need to know the real reason.
“Since high school really. I found a paint brush and it took off from there.”
Vague. Nice.
I watched him as he nodded, turning back to a painting of a woman holding a bouquet of roses. Her blonde hair flowed down from her large straw hat, creating the perfect shadows that were a bitch to paint. It was one of my favorite paintings, and seeing Elliot admire it put small flutters in my stomach.
“Did you paint all of these?” Elliot asked.
I hummed a yes. “Every one.”
“I feel like I need to know more about you in order to pull off being your boyfriend.” He twisted suddenly, no longer stiff and uncomfortable.
His face lit up as he walked back to the small kitchen table where I sat. I could see in his expression that he wanted to know. If I let him, he would sit and listen to me talk all night long. He would probably never lose interest. Any girl would love to have this kind of attention on them, especially Elliot’s, and, even though I loved how his focus was on me, and me alone, I knew it wasn’t real. He was just trying to learn his role as Daxton. That one thought popped me back into reality. The fact that we had to leave on a road trip in three days and he had a show to do before then . . . we didn’t have time for the normal get to know you questions.
