Taking my own advice, I shove the beanie back on my head once we walk out of St. Christopher’s and lead the way to my car. I open the passenger door, grab the sketches, toss them in the back seat, and then move aside for her to settle on the passenger seat.
The atmosphere in the car is filled with that same energy I’ve felt every time I’m close to Nor. It rolls over my skin, causing the hair on my arms and neck to rise in awareness. Every time I sneak a look at Nor, her face is trained out the window.
Can she feel it? Maybe this is all in my head. I should be happy, shouldn’t I? I promised to stay out of her hair and not tangle with her emotionally.
Then why do I feel disappointed? Why do I crave for her to turn and look at me with those vibrant green eyes?
Shaking my head, confused by my own feelings, I pull up in front of her house, and literally run to her side to open her door.
Jesus, Cole. Couldn’t you be any more subtle?
Nor steps out of the car and tips up to look at me, one eye slightly squinted against the glare from the sun.
She licks her lips, looking nervous. Then she lifts her right hand to her chin and moves it forward in my direction, smiling shyly. “Thank you.” She bites her bottom lip, rocking on her feet. “Thanks for the lift. And for checking on me at the church.”
She tucks a lock of hair behind her ear which has escaped the bun on her head.
My lips pull into a smile, floored. Just when I thought I couldn’t be more intrigued by this girl, she surprises me by using sign language.
I nod once and turn to leave, afraid I’ll end up saying something stupid, just like the weird way my body has been reacting to her. Once inside the car, I glance out the window, watching as Nor walks to her door, opens it and disappears without looking back.
Shoving those confusing feelings aside, I get back on the road and drive to BH Architects.
FRIDAY MORNING I WAKE UP early. I was stunned to see him walk inside St. Christopher’s yesterday.
I haven’t seen Cole since he dropped me off. Every time that memory crosses my mind, my chest feels light and my body warms up. If I close my eyes now, I can see his lips quirked slightly in a smile and his chaotic mid-length chocolate brown hair. No wonder he feels the need to tame it by wearing a beanie, it obeys its own laws. I like it though. It looks silky soft.
I can’t get over the surprise and delight on his face when I signed ‘Thank you’. That single look increased my determination to learn more just so that I can see it again.
“Hey Nor.”
My head pops out of the closet and I spin around to find Megs sitting on the window ledge, holding two Styrofoam cups.
“Coffee?” She shoves one of the cups toward me and my heart skips a beat as the smell of coffee tickles my nose. “Elise let me in.”
I snatch it from her hands and inhale the scent. “Oh my God, you’re a godsend. Thank you.”
She takes a sip from her cup while scanning my room, her gaze landing on my doodle notebook on the floor beside my bed. “Can I see that?” She points at it with her free hand.
I bite the inside of my cheek. Would it seem rude to refuse? No one, other than my sisters, have ever seen the inside of that book.
She hops down from the windowsill and hurries toward me. She touches my shoulder with one hand and says softly, “Hey. It’s okay. You don’t have to show me. I’ve always wanted to doodle and I was curious when I saw yours.”
This girl has seen my scars. I expected her to cringe, turn and walk away from me. Instead, she hugged me, which kind of threw me for a loop. She’s here today. It all has to mean something, right?
“I’ve never had a best friend, so I don’t know how to do this.”
“You don’t have to do anything. Just be yourself.”
I am who I am. The past doesn’t define me. I smile at her. “Right.” I jerk my chin toward the bed. “Some of the stuff in there is not. . .for the faint hearted,” I warn her.
“I don’t scare easily.”
I cross the room, pick the book up off the floor and hold it out to her. She takes it before lowering herself to sit cross-legged on the floor. My heart beats faster every time she flips the page, wondering what she is thinking. She pauses, clutching her cup with one hand as she stares at the drawing of an arm, the sharp edge of a razor cutting through it. The word ‘relief’ written in block letters screaming from the page with little skulls surrounding it. I wait for her to say something, but her eyes are trained on the page. She turns the page. The words ‘courage’ and ‘self-love’ are linked together. A flower pattern drawn repeatedly, surrounding the words.
She exhales and lifts her gaze. “These are stunning. You could totally sell them as coloring books. Take advantage of the trend.”
I shake my head. “They are too personal.”