Within the Lines

19.

I had seen many paintings in many different museums. I'd seen countless of statues, modern artworks beautiful and purposely 'ugly', and even a few monuments in faraway countries while on vacation.

All these amazing pieces of art and none could hold a candle to Atticus in the door opening with the biggest cowlick I'd ever seen plus hair sticking out in all directions after taking a shower. 

It was truly a sight to behold. No sarcasm whatsoever. I was inspired to draw him, if only I could tell him to stand still in the door opening exactly like this for an hour so I could get every detail right.

I would've enjoyed it even more if his expression wasn't so grave. 

Instead of being excited about having a 'date' I'd been busy practicing my calm down speeches for Atticus. Of course, I was a terrible planner and forgot everything I wanted to say the moment Atticus was standing in front of me. 

"He was just sayin' that," I blurted, throwing out the first thing that came to mind. Then I lowered my voice to a whisper, not sure how thin or thick the walls of the cottage were. "That guy? He doesn't actually believe us together is incest. He just said that to get that other guy off ya back." 

Atticus sighed. He stepped further into the room and carefully closed the door behind him. "I know that." 

There was no panic in Atticus' posture. No inkling of proof of him going closed-off jar mode on me soon. This was less bad than I thought it would be. I didn't have to calm him down, but I did have to get rid of the sour candy expression.

"Okay," I said. "Just checkin' 'cause you looked real embarrassed just now." 

I scooted to the side on my bed and patted the space next to me, inviting Atticus to lay down. After darting a glance behind him, Atticus walked over. The mattress sunk as he lowered himself on the bed and his frown deepened.

"I know why he said what he said," he repeated. "But is it too much to ask to not have people talk about this at all? Or even think about it?" 

Atticus made a frustrated sound as he laid back on the bed, staring at the ceiling. "I wish I could make them not think anything when looking at two people who could hypothetically like each other." 

"Uh..." I didn't entirely understand the point Atticus was trying to make. He seemed to struggle picking the right words. I propped myself up on my elbows. "Why?" 

"It's just—" Atticus sighed. "It's unnecessary for anyone to talk about who's doing what together and who likes who unless two people are in a relationship. We should pretend it doesn't exist." 

"Wow, you really hate other people talkin' about you, don't you?" I tilted my head to the side and smiled. "How will two people ever get together if nobody's allowed to show interest unless they're already together?"  

'I don't know." Atticus was quiet as he seemed to process his own thoughts. "I just hate it when everyone sticks their nose in our business. That's all."  

Our, he said our. Atticus didn't seem to realise just how much of his thoughts he let slip with that little three letter word, and I didn't want to point it out. I cherished the moment in private, enjoying the rollercoaster sensation in my stomach. 

"So, how was trainin'?" I changed the topic. 

Atticus turned his head to look up at me. "Brutal. Sorry, it's really not for all levels anymore this year. I didn't know, else I would've said something beforehand."

I smiled. "Nah, that's fine. I would've went anyway - even if I don't have any football talent. Tryouts showed as much. But I'm not sorry I went." 

I gave Atticus an all-saying up and down glance, and enjoyed watching his cheeks flush.