Sketch

Chapter 17

Before we get into this chapter, I wanted to bring something to attention. During my extended absence and lack of updates, this story has lost readers. I'm not writing this to get reads, but I'm writing it for myself and the people who love to read it. So I just wanted to thank everyone who is still reading this story. It means so much to me that you were patient enough to wait for my updates to start back up again.
Also, this story recently reached 100 votes! That really means a lot to me and I want to thank everyone who contributed!
And now, Chapter 17 :)

"Are you sure you're alright?" Devon asked for the one thousandth time since we'd left.

"For God's sake, I'm fine!" I snapped.

"Someone's touchy," Grayson snorted from the back seat. I twisted around and slapped his knee. "And violent," He added as he rubbed his battle wound.

"I'm just making sure!" Devon sighed in exasperation.

"Well, there's no need too. I'm fine," I sighed.

"Fine, fine," He frowned.

I stared out my window and followed the tree line with my eyes. It was amazing seeing a forest that surrounded both sides of the road. Back home in New York, we had little to no large groups of trees. I took out my sketch pad and copied what I saw, though the sketch was horrible due to my broken hand.

"I haven't seen you draw in a while," Devon observed.

"Well," I frowned, "I haven't had the time."

"You should always make time for the things you love," Grayson said as he kicked my seat.

"Woah there Socrates," I snorted.

"I'm trying to be supportive of your hobbies," He shrugged.

"Art isn't just my hobby," I scoffed, "Art is my passion. I live and breathe pencil smudges and eraser shavings."

"Damn, that was deep," Grayson smirked. "Who's Socrates now?"

"Shut up," I snapped. "Plus, I broke my hand on my mom's face so I can't sketch for at least another week or so."

My comment seemed to silence them so we spent the next hour in quiet. I attempted a few more sketches but they ended in failure so I gave up within thirty minutes. Instead, I planned what we would do when we hit our first stop. I did some research and found a small town that's known for its beautiful lake and art museum. This immediately peaked my interest and I ran it by the boys.

"Sounds fun to me," Grayson shrugged.

"You navigate, I'll drive," Devon smiled.

"I'm so excited!" I squealed.

"We can tell," Devon and Grayson said in unison.

Within the next two hours, Devon pulled his white Volkswagen Bug into a motel. They only had a honeymoon sweet open so we settled for that and took the key.

"Dibs on the couch," Grayson called from begin me.

"You were getting that anyway," Devon snorted.

"I'll sleep on the floor," I declared and threw a pillow down.

"No way," Devon smirked, picking me up bridal style and throwing me onto the bed, despite my squeals of protest.

"Awww," Grayson laughed, "You two are disgustingly adorable."

"Where will you sleep then?" I asked Devon.

"In the bed too," Devon smirked. "We shant change our ways for Grayson."

"Fair enough," I giggled. Devon crawled under the sheets and I followed after him, curling up with my back against his chest.

"Wrong," He smirked and rolled me over so my chest was pressed against his. He draped his arm across my waist and sighed. "Better."

Grayson made a barf noise and rolled over, burying his face in the cushions of the couch. Within minutes, we were all sound asleep.

***

"Oh my goodness," I squealed in excitement.

"I've never seen someone get so excited about an art museum," Grayson laughed.

"Don't judge! This is the home of my people," I grinned.

"Here's a map," Devon called as he strode towards us from the lady at the front desk.

"We should visit the sculptures first! No, the abstract," I sighed. "I can't pick, this is hard."

"How about we just start walking?" Devon chuckled. He laced his fingers through mine and led me into the building. I looked down at our hands and smiled. We didn't do stuff like holding hands much and it felt nice to be a normal couple instead of a girl who punched her mom and an Italian guy who sings alot. But that was our normal and I loved it just the same.

"I'm feeling like a third wheel," Grayson groaned.

"Come here, I'll hold your hand too," Devon laughed and wiggled his eyebrows at his blonde companion.

"I'll stick to being the third wheel," Grayson smirked, but wiggled his eyebrows back.

We reached the first exhibit, which was paintings, and I pointed out the ones I recognized and rattled off facts about the artists who painted them. I studied the techniques each artist used to create their work of art and did a few (horrible) left handed sketches. The whole time, Devon never let go of my hand.

We worked our way through the entire museum in and hour and a half, stopping to take pictures with paintings or eat lunch in the statue gardens. We left around dinner time, so we stopped at a quaint café on the way back to the motel.

"What makes a tiger shark a tiger shark?" Grayson asked thoughtfully as he munched on his fries.

"What kind of question is that?" I laughed.

"An important one," He pouted.

"I think it's because it's got stripes," Devon observed the picture he pulled up on his phone.

"Oh," Grayson sighed, "that makes sense."

"You look disappointed," I snickered.

He relentlessly tore into another basket of fries and frowned. "I am! I was expecting something rad like it had tiger eyes or a tiger mouth."

"You've seen a tiger sharp before, you dork," I snorted. "You knew that wasn't a thing."

"I can dream," He shrugged. Devon's phone buzzed wildly on the table of our booth, blaring a guitar solo from one of his favorite bands.

"Are you gonna get that?" Grayson asked, eyeing the now vibrating basket of fries.

"Fine," Devon groaned. He answered it and I watched his eyes widened as he listened to the voice on the other end.

"What's wrong?" I asked, trying to keep the worry out of my voice.

"It's my sister," Devon replied quietly, hanging up the phone.

"You have a sister?" Grayson and I exclaimed in unison.

"Not anymore," Devon choked. "She's dead."