Page 34 of Artfully Wild
“I have seen the way you look at her when you think no one is watching for years. I know how you feel about her and I always wondered how long it would take for her to notice. Apparently almost two decades was the timeline. I knew you two were endgame the day she met you.”
Chuckling, I reply, “You did not just say endgame.”
“Shut the fuck up.” He tries to keep his face strong and intimidating, but it isn’t long before his features soften and he drops his gaze to the cup of coffee protected by his large hands.
The day I met Skylar Waters was the best day of my life. Hudson and I knew each other from school since we were in the same grade. And, to be honest, I had a crush on him at one point, which is something he absolutely didn’t return and doesn’t even need to know about for as long as I live. I mean, who didn’t have a crush on Hudson Waters? But the second I laid eyes on his sister, that crush flew out of my mind.
A lot of people say the first thing they notice about a person is their eyes, or immature boys would say their bodies. But for me? It was her freckles. They look like paint splattered on acanvas. Random, but also placed with care behind the brush. Perfectly chaotic. Skylar Waters to a tee.
I remember the day she and her mother came intoMarygold’sto order an arrangement of flowers for Cordie. Her husband had passed a few days earlier and Mom had been busy all week trying to keep up with the orders. I was in the shop helping when the little bells above the doors chimed and I remember looking from the snowdrops I was adding to a bouquet and seeing her constellation of freckles. While her mom ordered, I somehow mustered up the courage to talk to her. I’d seen her around school and was friends with her brother, but I hadn’t actually talked to her before.
“Hi,” I say, shyly.
“Hi.”
“I’m…J-Jacob,” I stutter. I don’t mean to stutter, but something about her makes me nervous from the start.
“I know. You hang around with my brother.”
“Yeah, I do.” We’re quiet as she looks at the marigolds on display next to us. Remembering I grabbed the flower before I walked over, I awkwardly thrust it out to her. “Here.”
She looks at me confused. “What’s this for?”
“It’s a snowdrop.”
“Yeah, I know,” she says, sarcastically. “But why are you giving it to me?”
“My mom says snowdrops mean new beginnings and you look like you could use one.”
“What makes you say that?” Her head tilts like she’s contemplating whether or not she wants to give me the time of day.
“I hear people at school sometimes. It sounds like you could use a friend.”
“I have one.”
“Do you want another?”
“You want to be my friend?”
“Well…yeah.”
“Why?” she asks skeptically. When I came over to talk to her, this was the last thing I had expected. She is stubborn, but I am not one to back down.
“Because….well, you’re cool. And I like you.”
Her eyes widen like I just spilled one of her most precious secrets to the whole world.
“As a friend. Girls are gross,” I try to backtrack. This time her eyebrows raise, waiting for me to dig a deeper hole and maybe dive straight into it. “Well, they’re not gross. They’re…pretty. Not that I think you’re pretty. Not that I don’t think you’re not pretty, but—”
She starts to laugh and I’m not sure what to do at this point. Either she is going to continue laughing and leave me feeling like the idiot I am or she is going to think my awkward flair is completely charming.
Luckily for me, it’s the latter.
“I like you. You’re funny and you’re easy to fluster.” She bites the inside of her lip and looks up at the ceiling like she’s deciding something. Finally, she says, “Yes. I’ll be your friend.” And it is there in my mom’s flower shop that the trajectory of my life changed forever.
I have harbored that feeling of seeing her for the first time since then. I even tried dating around. Especially in college. I had a boyfriend of two years, but in the end, I wanted to come back home and the small town life just wasn’t what he wanted. Breaking up was hard, because I thought I loved him, but I knew that coming home was where I wanted to be. For my best friend and myself. He needed the sounds and the busy days of the city and I needed the slow, quiet nights of Blue Grove. And nothing has compared to the way I feel about Skylar. Nothing ever will.
“I’m sorry to interrupt what I am sure is some kind of fantasy about my sister I really don’t want to think about, but we were just in the middle of a conversation.” Hudson raises his eyebrows waiting for some kind of response. There’s a large part of me that really wants to grab my coat and walk out thefront door, leaving him here mid-conversation, but I don’t think my conscience will give me permission.
