Pink Skies

CODA

CODA

            I don’t show Isaac my drawing of him. I have no idea why not, maybe it’s just that his photos seem so much better compared to this sketch filled with lines of him. But I know that he will see it at some point. And then one extra chilly Sunday morning, I feel this rush of exhilaration and sureness and dressing quickly and grabbing my journal, I walk to the forest even quicker. The air is oddly cold today and a shiver runs down my spine. And then here he is, tapping his camera a little bit, face adorably frustrated. I walk to him and stand right in front of him.

            The confidence that had been swirling around me is suddenly gone just as quick and he raises his eyebrows at me. “You okay?”

No.

            “Yeah, yeah. I’m, uh, I’m fine.”

            “Sure?”

            “Definitely.”

            “I didn’t do anything wrong, did I?” He looks panicked now and I shake my head quickly, curls bouncing around my face.

            “No, you’re fine, it’s fine. Nothing’s wrong.” My fingers wrap around the book in my hands tightly and I look down at it.

            “Vincent,” Isaac says and as I look up at him, he snaps a photo, leaving me startled and blinking like the first time. He keeps the viewfinder on his eye and when he brings it back down, he does it slowly. Swallowing my heart back down to my chest, I step forward and slide my finger under a page in my book, flipping it open to the drawing. I step closer to him and he doesn’t move.

             “It’s the drawing I did. Of you,” I say, and a faint smile on his lips, he nods before glancing down. Isaac is so close to me I can feel his warm breath. “I, uh, I thought that you’d want to see it.”

             Biting my lip, I look away, and from the corner of my eye I watch as he looks at it in parts, starting from the top left corner. Not being able to help it, I blurt, “Look at it as a whole.”

            Isaac smirks at me, shaking his head before looking back down. He releases a long breath. “I want to kiss you so bad right now, you have no idea.”

            I nearly choke in surprise, quickly directing my gaze back down at my drawing. I had drawn him laughing and combing a hand through his ink hair, camera held in his other hand, lowered near the ground so the strap nearly brushes the snow-covered forest floor. But I can’t focus anymore on my sharp pen strokes and I’m snapping my journal shut. “It’s really cold today, I think I’ll just go…” I say, standing up, and he shakes his head, getting up as well.

            “Actually, I was just about to go myself, so you could have my spot instead, if you like,” he shrugs because he knows that I don’t really want to leave, but then I’m stepping forwards and slipping on some wet leaves I hadn’t seen before, and he’s leaning forward to steady me and I’m in his arms, my hands between us, tucked against his chest. He is warm and he is beautiful and his eyes are even grayer up close, which I hadn’t thought would even be possible. “Alright?” His voice is low and rough and swallowing, I nod before shaking my head and as he frowns, I kiss him.  

            Isaac’s lips are chapped from the sun-filled cold and my hands rise to curl in his hair and around his neck. He kisses me back languidly, just as I would imagine him to kiss me, and his arms wind tighter around my waist, hands at the small of my back, pressing me closer to him. Every movement is a bit clumsy thanks to numb fingers and thick sweaters, but in this moment I am forgetting to breathe, one thing I know one should do when kissing. Isaac finally breaks away and nuzzles my neck, laughing the exhale laugh. “You smell like turpentine,” he says, “you’re beautiful.”

            “You need to stop that,” I say breathlessly, scowling.

            “What?” He asks, face innocent like the last times I had said this.

            “Making me forget how to breathe.”

            “Oh, thank God,” he grins. “I thought I was the only one.”

                                                             [END]