What's Enough?

Chapter 162

Always- Francois Klark

How To Save A Life- The Fray

~~~

*Trigger Warning

Philophobia: fear of being in love or falling in love

Ryder POV

The whole walk to the main house, she keeps laughing, which makes me also laugh because she has the stupidest yet cutest laugh I've ever heard. I open the backdoor and lead her into the house; she still holds my hand tightly. We both walk up the stairs, and I lead her to the room I don't show anyone.

"You know I've been in here before right," she stands in the middle of the floor, spinning around slowly, taking in all the artwork. I close the door and walk-in. She says, "Your brother is an ass, but he's a good painter and photographer," she grabs one of the pictures off of the line.

"He didn't do this," Did he tell her he did?

She looks at me, "What?"

"I... I painted everything in here, and I took the pictures,"

Her eyebrows raise, she doesn't hide her shocked expression, "You did?"

"Yes," I say, providing her clarification.

"You did this? All of this?" She looks at the artwork. I nod. Jayda looks back at me and says, "It's good, really good, like amazing,"

I watch her as she moves around the room, taking in the detail and abstract of each painting and analyzing the photos I developed.

Her being up here feels right. Plenty of girls have been in my room, but none have been up here. I would never bring any other girl up here because I don't want any other girl to know everything about me. But Jayda, everything is different with her; I want her to know any and everything about me.

I walk over beside her; she's staring at the picture I painted only a few days ago, "What does it mean?" she asks.

"You're the painter interpreter," I say because of what happened in new york at the gallery. She laughs at my comment, knowing what I am referring to, "What do you see?" I ask her. She tilts her head to the side, examining the photo; My eyes go to her neck, and the small curl hanging from her head in her face, she pushes it behind her ear.

"A bunch of people," she states. "And someone in a mask, amongst them," she turns to face me, "Are you the person in the mask?" she asks.

"I was," I say. "I'm not anymore,"

"Oh?"

"Because of you,"

She bites down on her bottom lip, takes my hand, and pulls me to the other side of the room, "Where did you take these photos?"

"Like two years ago; my parents and I went to one of our vacation homes in the mountains," We have a few vacation homes, but out of all of them, I think the one in the mountains is my favorite. "It looks beautiful all year round," I tell her, "During the winter, the snow is so white, like pure white, and then it covers the vibrant grass and creates the most beautiful color, on the surface,"

"Sounds really pretty," she breathes. "The picture doesn't do it justice," she walks over to the window and picks up my sketchbook; she flips through it like she is looking for something specific, she stops at the picture I had a feeling she was going to stop at. "Is this me?" she asks.

I hesitate and then tell her "Yes,"

"So do you always draw girls eyes or--"

"No, just yours,"