Eternal Longing ✓

23. Endless Staycation

JAYA

I've completely taken over the living room.

Several sketchbooks are laid open on the floor next to me, colored pencils are scattered all over the floor, and different types of drawing pencils pepper the carpet.

Though the television is on with my current trashy reality TV obsession, the sound is muted as I listen to Burna Boy's smooth, deep voice act as the backdrop to my madness.

After some more shading with my pencil, I regard the sketchbook that currently sits on my lap. The face of the clock that greets me is a surprising sight. I've been drawing variations of it the whole day for no reason other than the strong twitching in my right hand.

"What do we think, Charmless?" I ask the doll next to me with a grin. "I think this is the best one, right?"

Of course, the little guy does not respond, yet I feel his agreement all the same. Of the five sketchbooks laid out around me, each with a large round clock drawn on the page, the one sitting on my lap feels the closest to the image in my head.

Leaning my head back against the couch, I smile victoriously. It seems like the inspiration is here. The burning need to imprint what's on my mind on paper or canvas is back.

As my gaze shifts to my laptop opened to the Emphasized application screen, elation courses through my body. Maybe, I'll actually be able to do this. To do this and win it.

Before I can go down another rabbit hole of fantasies, I hear soft footsteps walking down the hallway. Looks like Finley's done with his work as well.

When he comes into view, his sweatpants hanging low and a T-shirt molded to his body, I can't help but drool internally. Finley dressed up and put-together is sexy as hell, but him looking relaxed and comfortable? A fucking sin.

He passes a hand through his messy hair and looks around the living room with a look I can't fully decipher, taking in the way I've shaken his previously organized space. I grimace slightly at what he must be thinking.

Slowly, his eyes land on me and I try to smile at him. "Um, sorry for the mess. Will start cleaning up right now." I tap on my phone to pause the song.

I stand up from the floor and dust off the eraser shavings from my-his-sweatpants. They're gray, soft, and the comfiest thing my legs I've ever had the privilege of wearing, and along with the other two pants I wore yesterday and Monday, I'll be taking these with me when I leave.

I see him taking off his glasses from my periphery and I thank the Heavens for that. I've been behaving the last few days, but hell, if I have to see those glasses on his nose one more time, I'll snap.

He stalks toward me with confident and measured movements. "How was it?"

I concentrate on gathering my sketchbooks as I tell him, "Good. Really good actually. Unlike yesterday, I didn't let the disgust with the incorrect vision get to me."

I hear his voice close to me when he says, "Good."

Standing back up with my stack of sketchbooks, I smile at him one more time in hopes that he won't see how much I want to climb him and step around him to deposit my supplies in my bag on the couch.

The whole time, I feel his eyes on me, watching me like a silent predator watches his next prey. Not on in hunger, but with a strategizing gaze that follows my every move.

"How was your meeting?" I blurt out the question when the silence gets too much and I'm struggling to fit the sketchbooks in my bag.

He must be closer to me because his voice sounds only a couple of feet from me when he responds, "It was good. Productive. My father seems happy with our progress so far."