Out of Tune

9

My head snapped to my left. On the side of the ledge, sat a dark haired beauty. He carried in his lap a notebook and a pencil. Despite the weather, the looming trees cast a slight shadow above his tall figure. Even from this distance, I noticed this male's defined jaw bone, his pale spotless skin, and his awfully familiar oversized bomber jacket which lay loosely past his shoulders. My eyes contacted the tall male's very own swirling, deepening orbs. It took everything in me to not get absorbed into his alluring orbs. I took a deep breath, tearing my eyes away. Too many questions and accusations were running through my head.

Was he here the whole time?

I couldn't help but feel selfish. This is my Rock. No one was supposed to know this place existed. How does he know this location? I wondered, I wondered, I wondered. I didn't want to think that he had heard everything; that he had seen me, bare and raw. As the tree's shadow sifted across his face, I search his dark eyes for more clues of what information he had retained. But it was to no valid, and I tried to suppress the rising anxiety within my chest.

I watch as his slender fingers lifted the cigarette into his plump lips again. Another puff of smoke exhaled. A thought trailed afterwards.

Why the hell is he smoking in nature?

When I realized I'd uncannily been staring at him for moments too long, his lips stretched into a slight smirk. Blinking my eyes rapidly, I turn my head to the other side. It was utterly humiliating enough for me to have this looming male to witness my undoing, but have how to witness my tears? My strings will break.

"How would you know?" I finally said.

Another puff of smoke trails pass my thoughts.

"Because this spot is the reason my sister is in physical therapy."

The sun crinkled.