Jack Kelly x Reader

Chapter Fifteen

Jack's POV

I felt relaxation flow through my arms as I could hear the paintbrush swishing lightly across the canvas. I had set out to paint a sunset in Santa Fe, like I always did, but somewhere along the line the colors turned out to look less like an open sky and a dessert, and more like a person. A person that I could identify already, painted in all the colors of the sunset.

I saw (y/n) on the canvas. She was painted all blue and pink and orange, looking off to the side, to something off in this painting's realm that I couldn't see.

Her face was relaxed, but I still saw the tiniest Mona Lisa smile curling her lips upward. There was a playfulness in her eyes, like she was begging to joke around or play fight with whoever she looked at.

I didn't know how I'd painted her form without realizing it, but it had just happened. She was in her favorite shirt, a light blue button up that had shiny white buttons and short sleeves. She always looked really nice in that shirt. I mean, she always looked nice in literally anything, but that shirt just made her even 10 times prettier anytime she wore it.

I sighed. I really couldn't get this girl off my mind nowadays. I'd always liked her, but I could still focus on my paintings or school or friends.

Could it have been that my friends' mind games were actually working more than I thought they would?

Every moment with her just lingered in my mind, day in and day out.

I could still feel heat in my ears and the way my toes curled when I remembered the day Kath pushed her on top of me and I just held her for a little while, looking into her (e/c) eyes.

I could feel her light breath on my chest and her fingers tracing little triangles, hearts, and circles when we woke up together.

I certainly wouldn't mind waking up like that every morning, whispering and giggling while she'd still be in my arms. With her messy bed-head and bleary eyes that looked up at me, she was even more gorgeous than when she tried to look nice. She was all things extraordinary wrapped up in one person.

I sometimes wondered if she thought the same of me, but I always shook my head at the thought.

I couldn't possibly be half as fascinating to her as she was to me.

I tried to get back to painting, filling in a light yellow background to her. It didn't look perfect, but I rarely painted actual people. Often times all I painted were landscapes and doodles of animals doing stupid stuff that came to my head.

Plus most of the time the people I painted were famous, for art class assignments. It was harder to paint my good pal than George Washington or Ariana Grande (the teacher had an obsession okay, don't judge).

But I was satisfied, for it being a painting I didn't set out to do and of a subject I didn't paint often.

Not that I didn't draw her like, everyday, but it was still an accomplishment painting her instead.

Doodles that got quickly erased from my math or chemistry assignment didn't have the same difficulty as a whole painting.

I wondered what was going to become of us next year. I was going to Santa Fe, and I'd be alone there. Most of my friends were staying here in New York, but some were straying to St. Louis or LA or Chicago. Some even were moving to different countries and going abroad for a while, like Spot and Mush. But I knew we'd meet up sometimes.

But what troubled me most was that (y/n) was staying here, in NYC to pursue her lifelong dream of being an actress on Broadway. I supported her, and I looked forward to seeing her act on a huge stage when we all came here to meet up, go to Jacobi's, and explore New York.

We promised we'd do it at least once a year.

But I wanted her with me. And truth be told, I didn't really want Santa Fe anymore, at least not as much as I did years ago.

But I still needed it. Santa Fe was the only thing surviving from my childhood. Everything else I loved had come in later. It felt like my life was in two separate acts, and Santa Fe was all that strung them together. It made sense when nothing else did. I wanted that dry lawless wasteland and I would until I lived there, a farmer for the rest of my life.

I shook my head. Apparently, sometimes my thoughts got deep when I was alone.

That would be helpful when I wanted to seem smart to people, but no. It had to be when I was alone in my room painting that I got all philosophical. If I was using that word right. Davey was the word genius, not me.

I decided to open my texts with (y/n) out of boredom, having finished the painting.

I re-read our conversation from earlier. She'd texted me a cute picture of her dog after school, and we talked about Lily, then going on to chat about school and our lives.

It was simple, but it was nice. It was nice talking to her, and seeing her name on the top of my screen make my face feel all warm and a smile tug and my lips.

With little changes to our relationship, I really could see us as a couple. Sitting next to each other at lunch and laughing at what our friends said, my arm slung across her shoulders. Going out on dates to the park, or to an ice cream parlor, or just staying in to order pizza. Kissing every once in a while, and resting our foreheads together after.

I had never imagined the concept before this mess, let alone fantasized about it.

I guess whatever scheme Race and the gang were pulling was working.

Who knew Race could be smart?

(1035 words)