Total pages in book: 116
Estimated words: 110624 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 553(@200wpm)___ 442(@250wpm)___ 369(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 110624 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 553(@200wpm)___ 442(@250wpm)___ 369(@300wpm)
I kept going through the book, and each drawing was better than the last. Another one was of the same man riding the motorcycle into the clouds in the sky. There were also a lot of drawings of the same woman or girl, with wild curly hair. In one of them, she was dancing in the rain and had a long skirt that seemed to move within the picture. They were all done solely in pencil with blends of charcoal and graphite.
There was another picture of a butterfly, but the center was a lifelike woman, instead of a thorax. The drawings were so intricate, and the attention to detail was impressive. I felt guilty for looking through the book, but Jake left it right on his desk, so it couldn’t have been something he was trying to hide. Right? At least, I made myself believe that.
I finished going through the first sketchpad and became hungry for more. I grabbed the entire pile and devoured each one with my eyes. Some were of people and others were just nature scenes. Certain ones were so stunning, that I had to stop and stare at them for several minutes at a time, examining every last detail. Then, I would go back to some of the pictures again if I couldn’t get the image out of my head.
I was frantically searching these photos for clues about Jake’s life. With each drawing, I was more and more confused about the possible meanings. Were they based on real people or just characters he created from his imagination? Jake was even more complicated than I originally thought.
At one point, I rested my head on his black pillowcase, relishing the rustic masculine aroma that invaded my senses. Between the drawings and the intoxicating scent, I was super aroused.
Several minutes passed, and I gradually became drowsy, deciding to close my eyes. That was the last thing I remembered before I awoke to Jake standing over me with a death stare, as I lay on his bed amidst a pile of his private sketches.
***
Was I dreaming? I rubbed my eyes from the sudden brightness. The realization that this situation was not imagined caused my heart to explode out of my chest. It felt like I was also about to lose control of my bladder, so I clenched the muscles between my thighs and jumped up, scooting back against the headboard.
“Jake…I can explain.”
“What the fuck, Nina?” he whispered hoarsely, his tone angry.
The sad and disappointed look in his eyes scared me, and I was even more terrified because I had put it there by violating his privacy.
His hair was dripping wet from the rain which I could now hear pounding against the window. Under different circumstances, being holed up in his room during a rainstorm would have been a dream, one that would not include him looking like he wanted to murder me.
He continued to stand over me speechless, and I knew I had to say something, but the words just wouldn’t come out. I noticed his backpack was thrown clumsily in the middle of the floor.
After several seconds passed, I cleared my throat and started with a white lie about the reason for going into his room. “Um…a few hours ago, I was alone in the house, and your door was open. I had thought I left the math workbook in here, so I came inside. I noticed these sketchbooks. I only meant to peek in at the top one, but when I saw how amazing the first drawing was…I just couldn’t stop looking.”
He swallowed and continued to look at me with a burning stare, but said nothing. His chest was rising as he breathed in and out. Shit.
I continued. “I must have closed my eyes and fallen asleep.”
Jake blinked repeatedly but was still silent. A trickle of rainwater ran down his forehead.
My voice was shaking. “I am really sorry. I should have never thought it was okay to look at your stuff. For the record, they are the most phenomenal drawings I have ever seen.”
I sat there against the back headboard frozen with my knees to my chest. Jake said nothing as he moved closer and took the sketchpads, piling them on top of each other. Then, he returned them to their original spot on the desk.
“Again, I’m sorry,” I said.
I started to get up planning to return to my room, humiliated. Just then, I felt a firm grip on my wrist, and the return of his voice shook me. “Where are you going?”
“Back to my room.”
He pushed me back down gently and released his grasp. “Just stay.”
Huh? My heart beat faster.
“Stay? What do you mean?”
“I mean…you were comfortable here. Just stay.”
“You’re not mad at me?”
He shook his head. “I didn’t say that. You shouldn’t have been snooping.”
“I know. I really am sorry.”