The Last One

THE LAST ONE Chapter Nine-Meghan

I LAY IN BED awake for avery long time that night, reliving every minute from theconversation on the porch. I'd been startled when Sam had appearedaround the corner of the house and climbed the steps to the porch.I knew he hadn't seen me; if he had, he wouldn't have sat down. Fora few minutes, I was tempted to keep quiet and just watch him.There was a definite allure to his face when he was relaxed, not onalert as he usually was around me.

But I was curled up onthe hanging bench swing, and I knew it was only a matter of timebefore a twitch of my body or the movement of my breath made thechain squeak. And then he'd be angry at my silence. I wouldn't beable to blame him for that, since it'd be more than a littlecreepy-stalkerish to sit in the dark watching him.

I fully expected him tolet me go inside without saying anything when I offered, but hedidn't. And whether it was the dark, the cool of the evening breezeor something I didn't know about, he was more open and talkativethan he'd ever been around me.

When he'd said my name... Meghan, what I said before stands ... I couldn't breathefor a moment. He'd never said my name before. He talked to me, hetalked about me, he talked around me, but he'd never addressed medirectly that way. I was so taken by that fact that I nearly missedwhat he said afterward. I'm too old for you.

I didn't understand hispreoccupation with our age difference. If he didn't like me, fine.If he could say, honestly, that he wasn't attracted me, that hefelt nothing, I'd leave him alone and accept his offer offriendship. But he never said that. I could feel his want when wewere close; it was a nearly tangible thing, more than just areflection of my own desire. Tonight, he'd been on the verge ofgiving in.

And yet, I had to admitthat I wanted it to be more than him giving in to me. I didn't wantto be the seducer. I'd been there before, more times than I choseto remember. I always regretted it, particularly when I was forcedto end the relationship, as inevitably I did.

I must have dozed off atsome point, because when I opened my eyes again, the sky outside mywindow was painted in breathtaking shades of pink and purple. Irubbed the grit out of my eyes and stood to pull back the curtains.The wide blue expanse beckoned me, and without pausing, I picked upmy messenger bag and slung it over my head, then hunted forflip-flops. Once I had them on my feet, I slipped out of my room asquietly as I could manage.

The house was silent. Ididn't know whether or not Sam was already up and out in thefields, but I didn't smell coffee, which probably indicated he wasnot. I went out through the front door and across the porch,heading for a large rock in the center of the side yard.

I didn't have time tounpack my paints and set up the easel before the sky changed, soinstead I pulled out my watercolor pencils and a large pad. I saton the rock and allowed the beauty to wash over me. Without lookingaway from the sky, I let my fingers fly over the page. There was nosound but the scratch of the pencils on paper and the chirp ofearly morning birds.

I was in another world,completely absorbed in the sky, the air on my skin and the teasingscent of flowers wafting on the breeze. Like magic, the colorstranslated into my drawing, capturing a piece of the glory I'dspied through my bedroom window moments before.

"That's incredible."

Sam spoke softly, but Ijumped nonetheless, dropping the rose-colored pencil I held.

"God, you scaredme."

"Seems like we'reforever sneaking up on each other." He held a steaming mug in onehand and sipped the coffee as he gazed down at my pad.

"Maybe it's a metaphorfor our relationship." I dared to use the 'R' word, and Sam didn'tcontradict me. Well, friendship was a sort of relationship,too.