Chapter Sixty-Two
As I folded the last of my shirts (which I had not touched since the moment I grew comfortable in Jake's) into my bag, I realized how fast time wheeled with him. It tugged my heart to detach them from the dresser. They had made it their home in just a few days. I might be cruel, but it had to be done. I couldn't live in his world forever. It was about time to join back the reality. And reality didn't seem to be any different.
It was like he traveled every corner, and he lived everywhere. He was in my dreams and also my nightmares. He was my hope but could also be my disappointment. He made a fantasy world for me, but he occupied my reality too.
So much.
How could someone be so much that you want all of them still couldn't contain enough?
We didn't talk after Liz left. Maybe, it was as hard for him as it was for me. To leave each other's side and fall back to our mundane life. But how we were those past days was also worth something, wasn't it?
He seemed troubled about the painting.
I could feel it.
I knew it.
I had started infiltrating his thoughts through his actions. If he had grown on me, I had set my roots in him too.
The painting had to mean so much to him. I was curious about it, but I couldn't make myself ask him. Afraid of its place in his life. It might have more space in his heart than I had managed to traverse by then. For my peace of mind, I needed to delay it as much as possible.
I finally finished packing up with a heavy heart and turned towards the bedroom door, only to find his tall looming figure leaning against it. When did he become that tall? 'He was always that tall,' my subconscious reminds me. Of course, he was. It was just that I never felt this small in front of him. The reason could be my ever-shrinking heart. It didn't want to separate from his. At that moment, as I avoided locking eyes with him, all I wanted to do was curl up into a ball and find a warm corner in his heart.
"Do you have to go back?" Jake asked in a murmur. He had just taken a shower. The smell of his shower gel which had to be citrus and honey - lingered around me. His hair was still wet. A water droplet fell on my neck, making me aware of the impending question.
'No, Jacob, I don't want to go, but I certainly have to go,' my mind screamed at me, but I gulped down a vile sip of anxiety.
"I wish you had asked it differently but damn if you aren't always so accurate," I laughed a little, gathering enough control to look at his black orbs. He had already changed into a pair of black denim, same as me, and a dark blue t-shirt. How could he pull up all the colors? I looked comparatively comical in the vibrant red shirt, way too loose on me.
"What did you want me to ask?" He touched my nose with his pointer finger before bending down and taking the bag from my hand. "I already know. You don't want to leave. I can read it in your eyes. So, that leaves me with only one possibility, which seems rather bleak given my reputation with your mother."
He could read my emotions through my eyes.
Did that make him a marauder of my thoughts?
Did he succeed in crossing over the walls I put around my heart?
Did I infiltrate him to the lengths he had raided me?
The questions kept ringing in my head. Both of us were silent. We locked all the windows and doors together before heading out of the apartment. As he turned the lock, I stacked all the moments we shared in that apartment in my memory box and kept the lid open. He turned back and led us to the elevator, breaking one thought that kept repeating in my head - I'm going to come back here in my dreams tonight.
He reached down to my hand and held them so gently as if he was afraid I might jerk his hand away. I tightened my fingers with his and tugged them softly.
I won't leave you, Jacob.
"Was your mom angry?" His fingers reached out to the numbers on the elevator and pushed the one leading to the underground parking. All the while, he wasn't looking at me. But I was staring at him. He was sad about my mom not liking him.
Jake had spent so much time away from his mother. Maybe, that was the reason he wouldn't let me disappoint my mom.
"She was worried," I was still talking to his side and his tensed jaw. How did he look so handsome even without trying? "But the good thing is she called you an angel and invited you to the Thanksgiving."
His head snapped towards me so fast that I had to take a sharp breath. He peeked into my soul to verify my words. "Okay, you don't have to be that intimidating. I didn't tell her I was with you. I told her I was at my friend's apartment. She called my friend Tori who I completely made up an angel, and the invitation is for her."
Jake was getting annoyed by my crazy sense of humor. He poked his tongue on the insides of his cheek and scoffed, looking ahead. "This is all just a joke to you."
Before I could tell him it wasn't, the elevator dinged and jerked to a stop. He was still holding my hand. He pulled me out alongside himself as soon as the door opened. His legs were taking longer strides than mine, making me almost run after him. I waited till we settled in our seats and pulled out of the luxurious building.
He was silent again, no radio, just his hands holding onto the steering a lot bit tighter than necessary and his eyes fixed on the road ahead.
Did he want to go with me to Thanksgiving?
Maybe.
Did I want him to come with me to Thanksgiving?
Hell, yeah!
"I wasn't joking about the invitation. I do want you to come." I reached out and tugged at his hair below his ears. His curls had grown a little, flashing a need to get trimmed down. I wouldn't mind cutting his hair for him. I did it for my brother and dad. They would let me without complaints.
Jake was relaxing bit by bit under my caresses.
I had that impact on him. I was his infiltrator.
"Yeah, I don't think that's a good idea. Your mom would chase me out with a broomstick this time. She definitely won't like her daughter bringing a hooligan for Thanksgiving dinner." He commented, sharing a glance with me.
"I think she won't if you cover up your tats, don't have any marks of violence on your face, and wear a tux. My dad will be rather impressed to meet you. He has a crazy obsession with art and artist. And my siblings will be pleased to have someone less annoying this time. Since my aunt, Karla, won't be joining us this year, everything will be just fine." I took a deep sigh and looked at him expectantly.
'Please say yes,' my subconscious yelled at him.
"Okay," He said. Jake said okay, lifting away the heaviness from my heart. I smiled at him and let him drive in peace. My hand still caressed his hair. It somehow caressed my heart which was doing flips.
"But I'm not wearing a tux," Jake said with his lips tugging up in a smug smile. "Nor covering up my tats. They're part of me now. And I would get visible signs of violence with the big fight coming up."
He said the last part quietly, hoping I wouldn't glare at him once again. So, he was in no way striking it off his list. It was hard to imagine him getting hurt a few days back, and it was almost painful by then.
I concealed the frown that somehow made its place on my face and looked forward. Jake didn't have to see the dread creeping up in my mind. Why did it matter to get him approved by my family? And he was probably right. There was no need for him to pretend like anyone other than who he was. As much as I wanted to eliminate the thought, I did want him to be part of my world.
"Did that cancel my invitation?" He wiggled his eyebrows. He was hiding disappointment with playfulness.
'You're worst at concealing,' I laughed internally.
"I guess not," I shrugged. "I wouldn't want you to be anyone other than who you are, Jacob."
"Change of plans," he said, probably not caring about his words for the first time. "I think, am going to wear a tux, but you've to pick one for me. Preferably black."
He turned his attention towards me, catching me off guard with his intense eyes. The car had come to an abrupt stop, but his eyes never left mine. I noticed red lights on the signal.
"Black?" I didn't know why I had to confirm that, but it could be due to my lack of forming new words. The conversation was no more about tux or Thanksgiving. It was his eyes peeking into mine. He wasn't thinking about anything other than me. I could feel it.
"I need to get new art supplies," he announced in a hoarse voice. With my fingers still tangled around his hair and him looking at me with such piercing eyes, my mind had frozen up. I wanted the traffic light to turn green or him to reach out to me. Even a simple hug would be enough to make me stop vaporizing, and a kiss, I wouldn't mind a kiss either. We didn't have that since the morning. The thought that we wouldn't have that moment again for a long while, maybe not that long, but still.
"Do you want to get them together?" He asked. My tongue was still deep frosted.
He wanted to go shopping with me, something that friends, couples or families do. Did that mean I had become one of those? Most definitely, yes. We had grown comfortable with each other. Even if I wasn't one of those, I knew I was no less than them either.
I nodded, unable to think of anywhere else I would rather be. "So, when are we going?"
"Tomorrow, after class," he said, brushing my cheek with his thumb and grinned. "Amy, I can't wait to paint you on my canvas."
His words danced around me like little fairies. They were possibilities, and possibilities scared me.
I'm scared, Jacob. Your words scare me so much.
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