FLYING | Sequel of FALLEN (NaNoWriMo 2022 WINNER)

7.

"This is gorgeous." He lets out softly, kindly. He looks at me a moment, but finds himself staring back at the book. "Are there others?"

"I've doodled in quite a few... I don't know if I've sold them already." I admit, not caring that much about it.

As soon as I've answered, he walks to the display and takes each book to glance inside. He piles them all up for a total of five books. He takes the one I have been working on, being the sixth, and leaves with them.

He doesn't explain nor smile or anything that would indicate that he isn't mad. I'm so used to him being mad at a simple nothing, I immediately assume he is. Why would he take them all otherwise? Is he mad that I doodled in company property?

When he comes back, I get up and lead him away from the stand to get a little privacy. I want to confront him and get answers, at least understand why he would be mad I've drawn in a few copies.

"Mace? Have I done something wrong?"

He was looking down at the bag filled with the books he had just taken from my stand, but as soon as I speak, he looks at me. A weird spark in his eyes.

"Why would you ask me that?"

"I don't know. Was I not supposed to draw in the books?"

"No, I'm happy you did. It gives them value."

"Then why would you take them all?"

"I've taken the ones where you've drawn me. I didn't take the others." He smiles at me widely, like he used to when we were together. My heart pounds suddenly like it used to, and I get happy to see him look at me the way he used to.

It takes a moment for me to realise what he had said. I was too focused on being happy to feel a glimpse of what we used to share, that I didn't realise what he had just done.

"Did you just buy them all?" I frown, not really understanding why he would do such a thing since he owns my story in a way. He could keep the copies he wants as long as he gives the bookstores the number of copies they've ordered.

"I did." He only answers as if it would satisfy my curiosity.

"Why?"

"Because there's still hope." He smiles at me, making me more clueless as his lips rise.

"Hope? Hope for what?"

He arches a brow the same way his smile grows into a fat and proud smirk, heavily.

"Wouldn't you like to know!?"

I'm stunned. He knows me. Damn! Just like that, I'm aroused. He knows my mind, and he plays tricks on me. Wouldn't I like to know?! YES! I would fucking like to know, Marcel!!

I don't respond a thing, not knowing what to answer to that anyway. I'm left completely speechless. He takes it as his cue to continue packing a bit. For tonight, we don't have to pack it all. We are staying here for another day. We're coming back to this Waterstones tomorrow before leaving for another city the day after that.

It's in the car on our way to our hotel that he questions me on my drawings.

"Where did you learn to draw like that?"

I look at him a moment, considering what to respond and why he's thinking about that right now.

"My grandmother was an artist. I grew up wanting to be as gentle and as beautifully creative as her. She was a painter. She did the most wonderful portraits. She taught me a few things."