26
RILEY
Age 11
Beckett and I shared another look, hiding our faces in the pillows to keep from laughing. Harold was asleep in the recliner and his snores were becoming louder and louder as the movie went on.
“We shoulda brought ear plugs!” I whispered.
“But then we couldn’t hear the movie.”
I couldn’t bring myself to tell him that I didn’t even like the movie. It was kind of scary. Plus, the glow of the T.V. lit up the room in a weird, blue light, making me see things that weren’t really there. When Beckett reached for the bag of chocolates in front of us, I thought I saw a small bird resting on his scar. Surprisingly, it didn’t startle me. Actually, I kind of liked it and was a little disappointed to see that it wasn’t really there when he pulled his hand back.
An idea formed in my head when I saw a pen sitting on the coffee table. If I wanted to stay up for the rest of the movie, I was going to need a distraction from the scarier scenes or else I wouldn’t be able to sleep again. I snatched it up and rolled onto my stomach.
“Beckett?”
“Hmm?”
“Um, I have an idea, but it’s kind of weird so you can say no if you want.”
He chuckled. “Your ideas are always weird, but I usually like them.”
“Do you mind if I draw on you?”
His eyes crinkled in the corners as he smiled. “What?”
I reached for his wrist. “Your scar. I want to draw something on it. Can I?”
He laughed quietly and shook his head. “Yeah, sure.”
***
The drive back to Beckett’s apartment had been thick with frustration, so we mostly just sat in silence. We’d picked up a pizza on the way but hadn’t eaten much of it. Now, I was curled up next to Beckett on his incredibly uncomfortable couch wondering what I could possibly say to comfort him. it occurred to me then that there might not have been words, but therewassomething I could do for him.
“Take your shirt off,” I whispered as I kissed his cheek before climbing off the couch. I went to the kitchen, rummaging through the drawers for the felt tip markers I remember seeing next to the coloring books that must have been for Harper. His eyes lit up when he realized what I wanted to do and he quickly tossed the shirt aside.
“Thank you,” he said softly after giving me a kiss. I knew right then I was giving him exactly what he needed, what webothneeded.
Beckett lay on the couch, resting his upper body on both me and a pillow. The position was so familiar and comforting, I could almost feel the tension start to fade away after only a few minutes of my doodling. The best thing about drawing on Beckett now, compared to when we were kids, was that I didn’t have to hide how I felt about him anymore. I could trace his skin with my finger instead of the marker and not have to worry about what he would think, or even steal a kiss if I wanted to. Beckett smiled when I leaned over and did just that, sealing our lips together in a quick, playful kiss.
“You know, it’s a good thing you don’t have more chest hair than you do, or I might not be able to do this anymore.”
“Just because I’m not as baby smooth as you,” he teased, then let out a long sigh. “Can I ask you something? About your grandpa, I mean.”
“Of course.”
“Do you know how he found you?”
I tried not to let the pain from those memories sink in, because I really had forgiven Grandpa. But the truth remained, there was no amount of time that would heal the pain completely. We simply lost too much.
“Yeah,” I finally said. “I don’t remember the details exactly, but there was some mistake in my mom’s will.”
The lines I’d drawn weren’t very defined yet, but I could see the making of cat’s face in the doodle, so I went with it, adding a body and a tail swirling down below Beckett’s pectoral muscle.
“Can you tell me something else about him?” he asked quietly.
“Sure. What do you want to know?”
