Meeting Jack - Rewritten

Ch.24 - Fun and Honesty

Over the next hour, I'd managed to switch around our position as he continued reading. Having gotten up to refill his cup of coffee, I took the golden opportunity. Now, my back is leaning into his side. I'm tracing over his forearm that he's lazily resting around me from over my shoulder. Stuck between following along with him as he reads the pages and taking in his intoxicating scent, I couldn't be happier than I am now. I give into the sudden urge to kiss him, slipping my hand into his draped over me, bringing it up, and planting a kiss on the back of his hand. He only pauses to return my action to the top of my head, squeezing my hand before returning to the story.

My eyes wander the room while lying against him, and my focus lands on my sketchbook. This is followed by a beautiful idea that causes new excitement. Tapping on his arm before guiding him to release me, I head straight for the book and take a couple of pencils out of the accompanying cup full of them.

"What are you doing?" He says as I turn, looking at me with his thumb holding his place in the book. He almost looked sad that I got up, which I felt despite knowing my new mission. The need for constant contact is plain to see in both of us.

"Nothing you should worry yourself with..." I take my seat, but now we're in a similar position we had originally been in. Only now, I've got my feet on the couch with my knees bent, giving me a surface to place the sketchbook. When I look up at him, he's frowning at me since I've put myself in a position with no contact between us. "Please don't look at me like that; it makes me feel bad." Despite this being true, I know we're still just having fun. "Please, continue," nodding towards the book in his hand.

Though he eyes me with suspicion, he does turn back to the book and proceeds, and so do I. Getting to work, I lean over to grab my glasses, needing to see with more clarity. Once I've got everything in place, my hands take over, and I go back and forth between admiring him and focusing on my work. Mentally thankful that I had practiced over the years, now believing it was for this purpose.

"Are you drawing?" He looks over at me, more understanding of my actions now that he can see what I had gotten up for.

"Yes... now, please look back at the book." I laugh, mischievousness behind my voice.

"Can I see?" Sounding amused.

"Not yet! I've barely started."

"My apologies, madame." He teases me but does as I ask.

We stay like this for some time; he reads the book that reminds its readers of childhood, my memories of our summer coming to mind. It's almost as though he hasn't aged. His hands aren't as soft, and I can sense that behind those eyes are more stories that he hasn't explained yet. There's an underlying stress he has that he hides like a professional, but it worries me... he'll exhaust himself if he keeps it up. But I don't see him slowing down, no matter how much it takes from him. His ambition and stubbornness, while something I love, seems like something that will come at a cost before he knows it.

"Your poor lip," I peek over my sketchbook, looking confused. Letting himself explain, "You bite your bottom lip when you focus on something you're trying to do with your hands. You did it when you were working, too. I'm flipping through those bookings and sitting here now while you draw... you bite your lip."

Staring at my lips, he almost looks starved. Despite the unmentionable thoughts he's likely thinking, the crease on his brow shows genuine concern.

"It's getting colder; your poor sweet lips will crack."

A bit embarrassed, I cover my mouth with my hand and slip further into the cushions around me, hiding behind my sketchbook shield. This doesn't stop my giggles as I feel him move closer. He peers over the covering, kneeling on the couch and nearly looming over me.