by Mari Arden
My eyes waver back to Pax, lingering on the smooth lines of his body as one leg is bent at a ninety-degree angle with his shin resting on a thigh. The position isn't arrogant or humble; it's confident. Pax oozes it from every pore. It's the confidence of a man who has dealt with something difficult, and came out for the better because of it. It's the confidence of a man much older than he.
I stop. What do people see when they look at me?
I am so frozen in my thoughts I don't hear Pax when he clears his throat loudly.
"You okay, Jules?"
I blink, coming back to life. "Hmm…What? Yes, fine."
"Really? Because it seemed like you were daydreaming." He pauses. "About me." I gape at him. "You don't have to dream about it because I'm here in the flesh. If you want," he continues, "you can come over here and sit on my lap, and you can just feel your way through the drawing," he suggests wickedly.
"No, thank you," I say with every ounce of Midwestern sweetness I can muster.
"Ouch. Rejected."
I focus on my sketch of his face. I darken his pupil, trying to create the right amount of shading to show what I see.
"You want to know a theory?" He doesn't wait for an answer. "My theory is that a pretty nice girl can't reject a guy twice in two minutes. It goes against their midwestern values." I pause, unable to tune him out. Where is he going with this? "So I know you'll have to accept my next offer. Jules Hendricks, will you go out on a date with me?"
My pencil drops to the floor.
"I'll take that as a yes."
My head swerves past the easel to glare at him. Is this because he's seen my cleavage? I think suspiciously. Do I emit slut vibes? "I don't think that's a good idea," I finally say.
"Why not?" he challenges.
"I don't really know you."
"That's the point of a date. You get to know each other."
"I'm not interested," I lie.
"You like women? Because I'm okay with that, too."
I almost laugh, but I catch myself in time. "Was this all a ruse to get me here so you could ask me out on a date?" I ask, indicating the pencil and easel in front of me.
"It may or may not have been." I don't say anything to that. "I would've asked you the night I met you, but you weren't in the right state of mind to accept," he admits. A pause. "There's something so interesting about you, Jules. I can't quite put my finger on it yet," he confesses quietly.
"We're all unique in our own way," I say casually as I continue to sketch. There's silence as I work. Soon, all words and thoughts evaporate from my head. I keep the image of what I see when I think about Pax in my head. When I'm done, I stand up, pushing the chair behind me.
"Finished already?" Pax yawns loudly.
"Yes." I take a step back to admire my work. It's different, and not what he would expect, but I like it. "Do you want to see?" I ask shyly.
He nods, getting up and stretching as he does so. I move back to give him more access. When his gaze settles on the sketch, he balks. "Jules!"
I'm not surprised by his reaction. "It's different, but I like it," I say.
Pax points to the sketch. "You drew my face as an old man on a little boy's body!" He sounds so outraged I have to force myself not to smile.
Calmly, I gaze back at him. "The old man represents the new wisdom you have about life," I inform him. "I drew you on a little boy's body because your body battled something harsh, and came out stronger. You healed like a boy, but inside you're a man." I point to the slice of chest muscle I'd sketched underneath the little boy shirt. "You're a contradiction of many things, Pax," I say softly, gazing into piercing emerald eyes. "Sometimes it's confusing, but its unique and beautiful," I finish quietly.
We stay unmoving for several moments, lost in each other's gaze. The artificial light enhances his tan, outlining every muscular definition on his body. For the first time, I let myself think about how handsome this man is; about how girls dream about princes like him to take them away.
Pax breaks the silence. "I don't care how creative it is." He points to the sketch of his bald head. "You owe me. And we're going on that date."
CHAPTER 9
Five years earlier
The car rolls to the curb promptly at 11:05 pm. I flip the face of my watch back, and grin widely, waving to the people inside. The door opens and I rush in, grabbing my backpack.
"Hi," Livvie greets me in an excited whisper. She's squeezed between a guy I don't know and him.
"Hi," I respond shyly. I shut the door behind me, and the car instantly roars to life. I don't turn back to look at the cracked blue house we pass by. Instead, I face away, staring at Livvie, and feeling a nervous thrill I can't quite contain. "Hey Josh," I try to say casually.
He smiles warmly at me and the nerves turn into butterflies fluttering in my stomach. "Hi Julie."
"Jules," I correct him softly. It's a common mistake, I tell myself as I tug at a tendril of hair.
"I hear you're in the eighth grade," he continues, his blue eyes looking me up and down. I shift uneasily as a blush forms over my face. I'd changed into the sparkly top and denim skirt behind the neighbor's bush, and for a second I wonder if I should've worn something different. Glancing at Livvie, I notice she's wearing something similar. There's only one mall close by, and only two stores girls my age like to shop at so I'm not surprised we're dressed almost the same, down to the same dark denim skirt.
"Yes," I reply. "I'll be in high school soon," I add as an afterthought. Josh is a junior. I try to sit a little straighter, hoping to look older. My hands, rough from years of hard work, slide over my exposed thighs as I look toward the night. Suddenly, I wonder if they can still smell the fish on me. I'd spent an hour trying to scrub it off, but I'd also spent the whole day catching and cleaning fish for a local seafood market. Odd jobs like this are normal for me. Because I'm under age I "work under the table" and the owners pay me in cash. Usually I give everything to Grandma, but this time I kept a little something for myself so I could buy this outfit for tonight. I'd felt incredibly guilty for doing it, but I silently promised I'd work harder next time to earn it back for her.
I think about Grandma, lying soundlessly asleep in her bed, bone weary from another hard day at the farm. I'd crept past her silent as a ghost as I opened the window to sneak out. Even as my foot touched the grass, I couldn't suppress the pang of guilt at deceiving her. She works so hard. Today she went to the farm. It's located two hours away, and a truck picks her up every other day. After she is dropped off, she hikes for over an hour before she reaches her destination. I know this because I've gone once with her before. It's backbreaking work, and she shouldn't be doing it, but she tells me the owners treat her well. They give enough to tie us over for the winter months when jobs are scarce.
"You going to stay out all night with us, Jules?" Josh asks, breaking into my thoughts.
I hesitate. "Well… what time are you planning to go home?" I stall.
"When the sun starts rising," he answers with a laugh.
I catch Livvie's eyes. She never told me we'd be out that late. I bite my lip, abruptly wondering about my decision to come.
"Hey," Josh puts a finger to my chin, raising my face to his. "We'll get you home safely. Don't you worry." The way he says it doesn't make me feel any better. I look to Livvie again. Her eyes are narrowed, daring me to object. She has a look on her face like she's regretting asking me. She wants to stay. She wants to be included. I do, too.
"We're here." The car slows to a stop. Everyone jumps out. I prepare to do so but Josh clasps my elbow. "Stay with me," he says in a low voice. "You're my date for the night."
My heart drops to my stomach. His date? I can't stop the grin cracking my face. My first date, and it's with Josh. Unable to answer, I nod.
"I know a place we can go," he continues, watching me intently. 'You know, these parties are always filled with people. It gets insane," he laughs, as if I should know. I nod like I do. "Sometimes it's bet
ter to just relax somewhere before all the craziness, you know?" I nod again. He takes my hand. "Come on."
Josh tells the others we'll catch up, and Livvie nods in my direction. I glance back to see her retreating back swallowed by a mob of people as they head towards the open woods. "These campfire parties are the worst. People go crazy when they're with nature for some reason," Josh informs me as we rush toward the opposite direction. I hear a sound and I try to turn back to look, but Josh suddenly turns me in his body, hugging me tightly against him.
"You smell really good," he tells me as he lays his head on top of mine. I'm glad I decided to take two showers. He looks down at me. It's so dark I barely see his blue eyes. They look wide like two round saucers.
"So Julie-"
"Jules," I can't help correcting again.
"So Jules, is this your first date?" I nod. He smiles a little. "You've never gone out with a boy ever before?"
Grandma wouldn't let me. "Grandma thinks boys are a bad influence," I confess softly, thinking about my mother.
"We're not bad," he says, bending until his mouth is next to my ear. "In fact, we can be very good." Snap. I try to step back, but he holds me so hard I can't move. "You smell so good. Something that smells so good must taste good, too."
I don't know what he means, but Josh mentioning smells suddenly makes me more aware of the odors emanating from him. His breath smells funny like he's drunk something acidic. I look up. His wide eyes don't appear saucer like anymore; they're narrowed as if he's squinting to see me through a haze.
I swallow. "Josh, " I begin uneasily.
"Hmm?"
I try to dislodge his fingers, but they're iron on my waist. "Josh, I think you should let me go," I tell him quietly, no longer embarrassed if I don't sound cool.
"Let you go?" He laughs. "We just got here."
I try to remove his fingers, my nails scratching him as I do so. He doesn't move, and he remains still as if he can't feel nails raking his skin.
"You need to let me go," I tell him, more panicked than before. I remember now. I'd seen this on one of the farms we worked at. A man who smelled just like this tried to force one of the women into a shed. I was with the older women, waiting for grandma. I heard the snap in their words as they carried garden spades and rakes, rushing forward. The man was surrounded so he left, swaying listlessly, tripping over his own legs. Was that what Josh wanted to do to me? Take me to a shed somewhere? That thought scared me, so much so that I bent down and bit his neck- hard.
"Ow!" he yelped, letting me go as his hands clutch at his neck. I use my weight as momentum and I shove him hard enough that he takes a few steps backwards. Without stopping, I bend down and grab the largest rock my eyes find. I throw it at his head. His scream is louder now, and there is murder in his eyes. I don't turn back to look to see if he follows me. I assume that he will as I rush through the woods. The good thing about working the way I do is that I know every piece of land within a twenty-mile radius. I've worked everywhere, planting, digging weeds, exploring. I know where we are. There is only one area large enough to hold parties, and even though it's supposed to be private property, the owner is never around. It's harder to navigate in the darkness, but I try anyway. I use the moon to guide me, looking for familiar spots I've marked.
I try not to think about Josh as I make the long trek home, but my body is trembling with rage and disappointment. My first date, my first normal night out and this happens? I refuse to cry, and bite back the tears. Didn't Grandma warn me about men like this? Didn't Braidon?
Still I tried anyway. I needed to see it for myself. A sniffle escapes me even as the tears shine in my eyes.
When I finally get home, Braidon is waiting for me. His tall skinny frame is like a young tree sprouting. I almost imagine him as a man. The lights turn on as I climb through the window. I refuse to look at him. I don't know how he knows I left. I don't know how he knows a lot of things, but I do know he watches me closely. Too closely. I don't want him to see the anger in my face. Without looking at Braidon, I walk past him.
"Your shirt's torn," he tells me in a quiet voice.
I ignore his comment. "Is Grandma awake?"
"No."
I take a few more steps forward.
"I told you not to trust them."
I keep walking.
"You can't trust anyone but me."
I ignore him. Suddenly, he grabs me from behind, his skinny body harder than I imagined. "Do you understand, Jules?" His brown eyes are intense. "There's no one but me."
CHAPTER 10
"I don’t like dates."
Pax raises an eyebrow. "How many dates have you been on?"
"One." A long time ago.
"So you're just going to throw out a general statement about one bad experience?"
"Look," I try to be patient. "I don't need a man. I don't want one behind, in front or anywhere near me," I say, moving back from him.
"No one needs a man," Pax replies, stepping closer. "But having a man near or in front of you might not be such a bad thing." He pauses. "Especially if they're behind you. Magical things can happen when a man is behind a woman. Want me to show you?" That suggestive smile is back again, and if I wasn't so focused I might have melted underneath the buttery smirk of his lips. The memory of my traumatic first date is dark in my head, and it lingers even as I stare into Pax's eyes.
"That's not necessary," I say, facing my sketch of him. I touch the smooth curve of his face on paper. I'm especially proud of how I drew his eyes. Pax's eyes are a mixture of the human soul, I realize. Humor and wisdom, determination and modesty. I chew my lip. Well maybe not modesty, I think as I feel Pax move behind me. I shoot him an irritable look because I know what he's trying to do. He puts a hand over mine, and we both stay like that, as my fingers touch the paper and his fingers touch mine. As if pulled by a magnet, my hand slowly traces what I've drawn; pausing longer over features I enjoyed illustrating. His hand follows mine, but soon we are making are own art. His long fingers curl over mine and he moves my hand, creating a picture only he can see. After a moment, he stops. Turning to my side, I watch him pour a tube of blue paint onto a small tub. He picks up a paintbrush and places it in my hand.
"When did you get the paint and brush?" I ask.
"You didn't see me because you were too busy admiring your own work," he laughs softly.
I don't say anymore as he dips the brush in my fingers with color. Pax's large hand covers mine and I watch with suspended breath as he moves my hand, painting around and over what I've created. I'm curious what he'll do. I'm curious about what's in his head when he's not spewing out witty remarks, and winning games for UW.
He begins with one soft stroke over the drawing of his baldhead, and then he slowly brushes down, dipping the brush in water to minimize the color. He's trying to create something faded. I can't tell what Pax is trying to do as we repeat the up and down motions, curving at the bottom like we're drawing a lake. What we're doing is a quiet lullaby and the motions of Pax's hands hypnotize me. Finally, we finish. He drops the brush on the table. My hands fall to my sides, and I hear his soft breathing in my ear.
He's drawn a curtain, filled with different shades of blue. Some parts are more faded than others, but each drape is connected. The picture of Pax is behind it, peeking through in some places, and boldly uncovered in others.
"That's what dates do," Pax says quietly behind me. I don't take my eyes off the painting. "They reveal parts of another person you might not have known before." He touches the part where the blue covers half of his face. "But if you never try, all you'll see is the curtain of who they present to the world." He touches a part where the color has faded, revealing his chiseled chest. "If you take that risk, you'll learn and experience things you might not have before."
I swallow. I resist the urge to touch the colors again. I need to let it dry.
In that moment, I realize this isn't my art anymore; it's ours.
"Not so ba
d when I'm behind, is it?" Pax whispers, breaking the silence.
A faint smile tugs at my lips. I wave my hand over what we've just created. "All this for a date?" I ask again, more serious this time.
You can't trust anyone but me.
I turn to look up at Pax.
There's no one but me.
"Yes," he answers simply.
No one. The word echoes in my head.
Pax's eyes are shining softly down at me.
Red. I stiffen. For a moment, the color blinds me. I breathe hard, riding it out. He watches me, staring intently into my face. When the red fades, I see everything more clearly.
I turn and walk away.
* * *
I'm ready before the alarm rings.
I didn't sleep after I left Pax. A part of me hoped he would have followed me, but a more realistic part knew he wouldn't. He'd tried his best, put out a flawless game, and still I turned away. He wouldn't try again. He has nothing to gain.
I almost attempted a braid this morning, but decided it would be futile and put my hair back into a ponytail. Remembering how all the girls looked yesterday, I sigh and walk over to Nat. She's sleeping so I gently touch her shoulder. "Nat?"
"Hmm…ghagh?"
"Nat," I try again. "Can I borrow some of your make up?"
"What?" Her words are clearer this time.
That brought her right out of sleep, I think wryly. "Can I use some make up for work today?"
She raises herself up, propping her body with her elbows. "You want to put on make-up?" She blinks groggily at me. "Aren't you Amish or something?"
I'm stunned. "No," I answer, incredulous. How does she come up with these things?
She wipes her eyes with a fist. "You don't go out much. You don't have sex that I know of-" I gape at her. She ignores my reaction. "And I've never seen you wear make-up. I thought you were a former Amish or something and wanted to experience life on the other side."
