Trust Fall // l.h

Chapter 11: The Mall

Brita

The day passed quickly after my encounter with Luke. I had the day off from working in the parlor, so I ended up going to the grocery store to pick up a few snacks and heading to the beach. It was the first time I had gone to the beach without my journal and it was actually kind of nice. As much as I love losing myself in a drawing, it was like a weight had been lifted off my shoulders getting to enjoy the ocean without feeling compelled to sketch it.

I spent hours playing in the sand and nibbling on goldfish crackers before dusting myself off and walking back home. After a few minutes, I reached the door and pulled out my key to unlock it as usual. But when I went to push it open, there was something blocking it. I struggled for a few moments before successfully forcing my way in.

Once inside, I found the source of the door jam. It was my journal; bookmarked with a single daffodil. I could feel my cheeks turning pink as I thought of the boy who must have left it here on his way home from work. The sound of my dad speaking to a customer about a dragon tattoo pulled me out of my thoughts. Being aware that I was not alone, I picked up my journal and rushed up the two flights of stairs to my room, making sure that my flower was not damaged in the process.

I plopped down on my bed, clutching the journal to my chest. I slid the flower from between the pages and brought it up to my nose. It smelled lovely. I can only imagine how Luke must smell after spending hours in a shop surrounded by them. The sweet fragrance nearly made me forget about the page that was marked.

I eagerly flipped through the pages until I saw more words written in that same boyish handwriting. Written beside a drawing of a rose that I had taken me quite a few tries to get right were the words, "It should have been me."

It should have been me?

The words ran through my head over and over as I tried to make sense of what they could mean. What should have been you, Luke? I pondered over his words until I grew frustrated. Why did this boy have to be so cryptic?

I considered returning my journal to its usual place on my bedside table and ending this game before it even started. Maybe he doesn't want to tell me. Maybe I should respect his privacy and just leave him alone. I mean, whatever it is that he is talking about must be pretty upsetting. As upfront as he can be in some situations, he seems very closed off when it comes to his past. I guess we have more in common than I thought.

How long ago did this traumatizing event happen? Years? Months? How long has he lived here? I ran into him for the first time not even a month ago, but then again I don't leave the house much. What does someone say to this? I can't just say 'tell me more' again. He's going to think I'm prying too much. I don't want to sound pushy or creepy, but I really want to know.

He's such a mystery.

A cute, charming, awkward, and undeniably handsome mystery. Still, his business is his business. With this thought in mind, I started to close the journal and forget about the whole thing. But then...

Then, I noticed that his cryptic words weren't the only ones he'd written on the page. In very small letters at the bottom corner of the drawing he had written three words, "show me more."

The pink tint rushed back to my cheeks as I realized he wanted to continue this game. In three little words he was agreeing to open up as long as I did too.

So I followed his instructions.

I knew exactly what I wanted to say and just what I would draw to get the message across. I began to sketch and before I knew it, I was consumed by my masterpiece.

I wake up with matted hair sticking to my forehead. My confusion grows as I realize that I'm still in my clothes. What time is it? The last thing I remember is opening my journal and beginning to draw. When did I fall asleep?