Page 95 of Drawn Together
“Maybe ten? I can do the rest if you’re over it.”
“Nah, I’m finally getting the hang of it. I can do the rest, just tell me where to put them.”
So, I do. I watch his fingers tug at the end as he ties them, the ring on his right hand occasionally getting in the way, but other than that, he’s right. He is finally getting the hang of it.
“I read your article the other day,” I say, pointing to where he could put the small sunset orange one.
“You did?”
There’s something there in his voice. Amused and shy, and maybe a little anxious too.
“I did.”
“And? Do you think I passed for a romance reader?”
“I think you might have sounded like more of a romance reader than I would.”
“Alright, well now you’re just pumping up my ego.”
“I’m serious.” I laugh when he throws a balloon at my hair, it sticks to it from the static, and I use the charge to shock his forearm. He pulls it into his chest, feigning hurt. “I think you nailed it. Did your boss seem alright with it?”
“I don’t think he’s even reading them anymore, so I assume he’s okay with it.”
“Good. You’re on your way to being the next Nicholas Sparks.”
“Let’s not push it.”
I snort.
“How’s it going with, uh, author guy?”
“You know his name.”
“Sure. How’s it going with him?”
“Honestly, better than I thought. He’s been…easy? Like, he’s agreeing with me on all these massive updates, and last week Isent in a new scene where I put some bunnies on Evie’s socks, and he didn’t even mention it.”
“You did?”
“Yup.”
“Maybe he didn’t notice.”
“Well, I’m certainly not going to bring it up now that he’s approved it.” I reach for my iPad and bring up the newest sketch I started this morning. “This is the next scene. Here, she crawls out of the Threadbare basement, her hands scraping against the rough stone. I wanted to retain that sense of unease, so I modified the pen's format, making it sharper, and kind of darkened the shadows for a more ‘haunting’ effect.”
Fletcher’s fingers trace the edges of the locked image, like he could crawl into it and pull at the edges of the splintered wooden door. Tiny chill bumps run across his forearm, like he could hear the eerie voice of the Threadbare lady behind him, calling out Evie’s name in a whistled wind. I like to think I hear it too.
“You’re so talented.” He lifts his glasses up to rest on his hairline and squints at the details of the floorboards I added last minute. Little fingerprints of the evil woman's previous victims. “I mean it. I can’t even imagine how you do this.”
“You can. You’ve watched me do it before.”
“Yeah, but you…I don’t know. I know you said you read the manuscript then go into it but…it’s like you bring everything you touch to life.”
I take in the compliment and store it in my back pocket to get out later, listening to it replay over and over. I’ll use it as a positive affirmation to tell myself in the mirror each morning. I bring everything I touch to life.
Fletcher clears his throat and tosses me another finished balloon, I’m so busy studying those words that it bounces off my nose and there’s a little indent of my makeup on it that makes us both snort.
After squeezing in the last balloon, we stand back and look at our masterpiece—a pretty great arch if I do say so myself.
