Skin Deep

~ Three ~

The library was empty except for an aid working the desk. I found my chair just as I had left it, slightly contorted from my horrible habit of throwing my legs across one arm. I wondered if that counts as damaging school property. I could hear my mother complaining "It's not my fault that educational funding doesn't cover ottomans."I slid into the familiar mold and instantly became comfortable. The lilac ribbon that I used as a bookmark was currently sandwiched between the pages of my raggedy old copy of Jane Eare.  

I had just settled into my reading mode when I heard the massive double doors rub against the carpet. Occasionally a couple of young lovers would slip in to make out and grope each other. They would normally leave as soon as they noticed me sitting in my seat beneath the shelves, always throwing hate-filled glares as they retreat as if I had been the interloper. 

There was only one set of footsteps gliding through the rows of fiction books today. The sound stopped for a moment and then changed direction. The visitor was closer now. Only a single wall of literature stood between us. The steps took a sudden right and the intruder came into view. 

Without giving any sign of acknowledge of my presence he walked to the small group of tables at the center of the room. He placed a large notepad and pencil on the table before him. Still apparently unaware of an audience he stretched out over the paper and began vigorously sketching. I tried harder than should be expected to mind my own business. I flipped over several pages without realizing that I hadn't read more than a few word on any one of them. I was horrified by my inability to control my curiosity. 

The artist remained oblivious as he continued to draw undisturbed. His dark hair fell across his forehead. His eyes were down, focusing on his work. Long lashes veiled their intense color. I was both relieved and disappointed. His hand floated over the page. I pulled my book up close to my face using it as a mask. Matt's lashes flickered but never revealed the precious gems they guarded. I was grateful for my paperback shield. I watched as he let his expressions shift with the angle of the sketch pad. His brows furrowed as he shaded, he bit his lip from time to time and his lashes fluttered often. 

I jumped at the sound of the bell. Matt relaxed his shoulders and leaned back against his chair. He scribbled one last thing upon the page before ripping it from the book and abandoning it. The doors squeaked as they were forced open farther than they were accustomed to. I listened for complete silence before taking a detour through the empty tables hoping to quench my curiosity. 

I stopped short at the edge of the table. Without even lifting his eyes once, Matt had somehow managed to create a charcoal snapshot of the library. Every book was drawn in detail, as were the shelves, the big chair and... me. I sat with my legs crossed over the side as usual. A few strands of hair fell against my cheek. My wondering eyes peered over the top of my novel. He had known the whole time that I had been watching him. I tucked the portrait carefully into my bag before walking out into the crowded hallway.