Maybe both.
He reaches into a pocket on the thigh of his leathers, then tosses a rag at me.
I snatch it, lean my shoulder against the tree, and hide from him as I wipe.
Not like privacy is needed, really.
Besides, Samick stalks for the torch, brushing past me as he goes.
I wipe, fold the rag, wipe again, fold the rag, and so on, until there’s no more folding that can be done.
And I let the rag hit the foliage.
Gross, but even grosser if I take it with me.
I do up my zipper, fasten the button, then turn towards Samick.
He straightens up by the stones, the torch in his hand.
But the butterfly is gone. And I swear Samick just put something in his pocket, his fingertips just slipping out of it, but then I blink, and it’s to darkness.
He switches off the light.
EIGHTEEN
Turns out, Samick isn’t the kind of guy (or fae) to hide affairs and pretend they never happened.
After his silence and avoidance post-bathroom at the house, I expected him to be like that again, to push me away or ignore me completely and avoid eye contact like his life depends on it.
Every guy I’ve been with is the same. None of them care to hide it.
I do.
Or I did. Back then. In the Before.
Now, I lean against Samick, resting my head on his solid arm—in front of the whole unit.
The small camp in the forest is hugged too close together.
So it’s no secret that, in the quiet warmth of the flames, Samickletsme huddle against him.
He drags that charcoal stick over the thick parchment pages of his sketchbook, like this is all just normal.
Not once does he acknowledge the occasional gazes that slide to us from around the campfires, curious looks with murmurs and whispers shared between frowning fae.
And not once does he shrug me off of him.
He doesn’t even use the arm I’m resting on. That stays utterly still as he uses his right hand for the sketches.
Started off as strokes on parchment, but after I doze off a couple of times, then stir to that same sketchbook, the drawing has grown into that same picture he draws every time.
A home.
Not unlike a cottage, actually.
But two stories tall.
It has a sloped roof with uneven tiles that look sort of charming, and both levels are lined with windows overlooking a sprawling garden.
