Page 27 of Pictures in Blue
When I get to my room, I don’t bother changing before I throw back the covers and get comfortable in the king-sized bed. I feel my eyes start to droop immediately and let my body sink into the mattress. I gently tug the ribbon from my hair and grab my phone beside me typing one last reply, the sleepy feeling making me more confident than usual.
Maybe I want to see you.
And I drift off to sleep before hitting send, leaving it in the message box, the vertical line blinking until I let my hand drop and dream about warm hands and green eyes.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
AVERY
Iwake up feeling fully rested for once. A smile on my face and adrenaline in my veins, I get up and dress for my run before remembering the text from last night. Searching through the covers, I find my phone buried at the foot of the bed and open it to the text thread.
The message I didn’t send stares at me, my thumb hovering over the blue arrow to the right of it, weighing the pros and cons of pressing it.
Fuck it.
I press the arrow and watch the blue message come on the screen followed byRead at 9:01 a.m.right underneath it.
Three dots appear in gray, indicating he’s typing for a few seconds before it disappears again. I wait a few minutes, but it doesn’t show up again. Grabbing a dark blue ribbon from the box, I tie my hair up into a high ponytail before leaving my room. I stuff my phone into the side pocket of my leggings, put in my AirPods and head downstairs.
There’s already a full dining room, mixed voices and laughs echoing through the air.
I stop in front of the check-in desk to peek into the dining room. Cordie is standing next to a table filled with a small family, her hand on the husband’s shoulder, head thrown back laughing with a hand braced on her chest. The woman next to him is wrangling a baby who currently has a fistfull of her breakfast, syrup coating her tiny fingers.
Clanking silverware evaporates in the air, entangling with the voices and there’s something about this whole scene that brings me a sense of calm. My anxiety is quiet and for once it’s not a lurking in the dark kind of quiet, ready to pounce at the first sign of weakness, but it’s the kind of quiet you find on a peaceful Sunday morning surrounded by sunshine, fresh coffee, and people you love by your side. The feeling that everything is okay in the world. I close my eyes and savor the sounds and smells for a few more moments before I step outside and start stretching at the bottom of the stairs.
Once my muscles feel relaxed enough, I find my running playlist and start with a slow jog down the dirt driveway past the stables toward the main road. Once I reach the end of the drive, I turn on the sidewalk, passing businesses side by side. The sidewalk is busy for the morning, but I have a feeling this is the type of town that is up as early as 6 a.m. Sure enough, each business sign I pass has hours posted starting at 6:30 a.m. or 7 a.m.
A group of people are out helping hang a sign at the hardware store. One door down, a woman puts a sidewalk sign outside her antique shop detailing the current discounts inside. Across the street, the local florist is rearranging her flower displays beneath the white window sills, contrasting with the bright blue siding of the building.
My feet pound on the ground as I pick up the pace now that my body is warmed up. The more buildings I pass, the more eyes I feel turn my way, but I just look ahead and focus on my breathing, pushing my legs to go faster.
I run past the storefronts, until I reach a four-way intersection and turn right, a part of town I haven’t gotten to yet. Plus if I go straight, I’ll pass Sky’s and there is a chance Hudson might be there for whatever reason and I don’t know if I want to run into him just yet. Considering I just sent that text, I still want to hide behind the safety of my screen in case he doesn't respond. The fact that he read it is enough to have my stomach in knots. Maybe I shouldn’t have sent it. I couldn’t help but hear Charlotte’s voice echoing over and over in my head though, pushing me to open up and have fun. Considering she packed at least ten different pieces of lingerie, she was really pushing me. But what if he read it, thought I was crazy and that’s why he hasn’t texted back? Was I too forward? Did I misread all of his signals? I sort through our interactions and yes, they were a tad cringy with a dash of awkwardness, the perfect recipe for disaster, but he still flirted with me. Right? I think.
I groan and keep running, trying to focus on the air on my face and the sound of my shoes against the pavement. I’m overthinking and second-guessing everything.
As always.
I overthink until I don’t know what is real and what is made up from my anxiety. I’ve been doing it for the majority of my life and it makes everything so much harder.
I slow my legs until I am walking, taking in deep gulps of air, trying to catch my breath. I blow out slowly and walk in circles until I feel my heart rate come down bit by bit. When I turn around again, I come face to face with a vacant two-story building. It doesn’t look like it has been occupied in years and I wonder what it was before. I try to peer inside the windows, but most of them are blocked except for one corner. Standing on my tiptoes, I look inside to see absolutely nothing. The inside is empty aside from a few chairs stacked in the corner and the walls are prepped for paint, but there isn’t any color on them that I can see. It’s like the space was intended for something, but the owner never got around to finishing it.
Suddenly, my mind is filled with the image of a front desk to the left, photoshoot equipment in the corner, families coming to have their pictures taken…by me.
Would that be crazy?
Yes.I answer myself, but the idea awakens something long hidden deep inside me. A creative creature hibernating, patiently waiting for the right idea to plant itself and grow, luring it out of its cave.
I look around at the windows and there’s no sign indicating it’s for sale, but by the look of the dust coating the inside, no one has been here recently. I slump my shoulders and file away the building in the back of my head, wondering who might own it.
Maybe Cordie will know.
I turn away from the building and continue my run around the block until the burn in my legs and in my lungs becomes unbearable. I slow to a walk and start retracing my steps back to the inn.
By the time I get back to Cordie’s, the breakfast crowd has dispersed and the dining room is empty. I walk around the corner looking for Cordie and catch a flash of color on the back table, Ethan’s bright flag still hiding beneath the centerpiece. I take satisfaction in knowing that his flag is still safely hidden.
“Don’t worry, Carl. We can order more.” Cordie’s voice carries from the half open door I assume leads to the kitchen in the back. The left half of her body is between the frame and the door as she continues to talk to Carl.
She must hear me coming because as I draw closer she turns her head and I am met with a bright, unwavering smile.
