Page 7 of Falling Faster
"I sincerely doubt it." Wanting to ease his worry, I take a step closer, but voices carrying in from the hall are a reminder we're not alone. "Let's get out of here. We need to replace that sketchbook."
"Craig." Ty shifts his weight from one foot to the other. "Really, you don't have to do that."
"I insist. If someone spilled something all over my guitar, or my piano… Hell, I've spilled coffee and beer on lyrics I'm writing, so I know what it's like to have your tools messed with or ruined." I don't know if I'll ever be able to erase from my mind the disappointed, deflated look that had crossed Ty's face when he'd held the ruined sketchbook. "Let me do this."
Ty cocks his head to the side and, after a beat where I worry he'll say no, nods. Then he lifts his chin, crosses his arms over his chest, and raises a brow. "All right. But only if after we're done with that, I get to buy you a coffee to replace the one that spilled."
"Deal."
I'm treated to surprise skipping across Ty's features once again and a laugh sputters from his lips. "That was quick. I thought I'd have a fight on my hands."
The temptation to touch, to reassure, is too strong to ignore. In a few steps, I lay my hand over Ty's heart. It beats strong under my palm and his shirt is so soft, beckoning a caress. "I don't think you'd ever have to work hard to convince me to spend time with you."
The laugh and smile fade as Ty's eyes widen. He seems genuinely stunned. "Oh."
Would Ty wear the same expression after we've kissed? I'm sure his kiss will stagger me. "Let's go. Fair warning, my regular car isn't anywhere as cool."
"As long as it runs, that's all that matters."
Ty stays close as I lead the way outside. My black Corvette has over one hundred thousand miles, and has seen better days. I open the door for Ty, then hurry to climb in the other side. "There's an art supply store across the street from my favorite guitar shop."
As we drive, Ty tells me about the comic book series he and Slater are working on. The way he lights up in excitement and enthusiasm discussing something he loves, is beautiful.
In the store, strolling the aisles, I listen, enrapt as Ty teaches me about paper types and the uses of the different pencils, and points out the pros and cons of various mediums. The fascination has nothing to do with the items, although I'd been curious, and everything to do with the passionate, enthralling man himself. Ty is sparkling, like sunlight on water or a star shooting across the sky.
He selects a sketchbook nearly identical to the ruined one in his bag. I pay, then pocket the receipt, happy I now have knowledge of what he likes to work with.
We leave the store, and Ty pulls me toward a small cafe two shops down. "And now, coffee."
"Think I'll go with iced instead of hot."
"Me too. Slater laughs about how many sugars I use, but I like it sweet."
"I won't laugh," I promise.
Large coffees in hand, we settle at an outside table protected from the sun by a rainbow-striped umbrella. I wrap my hands around my cup, the welcome chill seeping into my skin. "What do you think you'll draw first in the new book?"
He tips his head as he swirls the ice in his drink. "Probably the scene I sketched this morning. It's one for the series with Slater."
"I'd love to see some of your art."
"I can make that happen. Hold on." Ty pulls out his phone, taps the screen a few times, then sets it in front of me. "Here. My portfolio."
Picture after picture reveals dozens of drawings of superheroes, fiery dragons, calm seascapes, mythological creatures, and portraits of several people. I recognize Slater and Noah among the group. "These are unreal. You're really talented."
"I've been drawing since I was a kid." His gaze turns thoughtful. "I never gave serious thought into making it into a career until a few years ago. My twenty-fifth birthday was an eye-opening, mini life crisis. Some family and friends were going through stuff that led me to question what I was doing with my life and what would it take to be happy. Art as a career was the answer."
I hand Ty the phone. "You should definitely be drawing."
He sets it on the table, then withdraws a pencil from his canvas bag along with the fresh sketchbook. The bag from the art supply store crinkles as he stuffs it into his bag. His gaze on my face, he taps the pencil against a blank page a few times, then begins making fast, faint lines, returning his scrutiny to meevery few strokes. "I'm still working at a regular office job, handling home and auto insurance claims, but I shifted from full to part time last year. I wanted more time to spend on my art."
"Taking a leap and putting a plan into action is a huge thing. That's amazing."
"Not yet. But someday, it will be." His hand moves quickly over the page. I glimpse strands of wavy hair, similar to my own.
Metal scrapes over concrete as I move my chair beside Ty's to better view the artist in action. "You sound like someone who has plans."
"I do. Big dreams." Determination pours out of his posture and for a moment, his eyes glint with defiance aimed at the paper. Or more likely, a situation or someone who hadn't supported his dreams. "And I'll do whatever it takes to chase them."
