Fly Me Away

The walk over to the car was one that made me feel a little bit famous. Every pair of eyes in the lot was fixated on me and Jackson; whether it was Jackson’s gorgeousness, or the fact that they couldn’t believe it was me with him, I wasn’t sure.

He held the passenger door open for me like a gentleman. I placed my bag in first and found myself unable to stop smiling madly. He seemed to find some kind of amusement in this as well, as his dreamy, charming smile was making my heart stutter again.

The inside of his car was equally as unbelievable as the outside. When he got in, he slipped the key in the ignition and revved up the car until it settled into a quite tiger purr. I looked out the passenger window and caught sight of a familiar head of red hair. Pip was standing quite far away, but I could in fact see her following the ‘open mouth’ trend. I almost got out of the car and walked over to explain it to her—I didn’t want her to start assuming things—But Jackson’s resonant voice drew my attention in.

“That was interesting,” he stated with a smirk, trying to reverse without hitting the people surrounding the car.

My vision redirected to him in all his glory. Pip could wait.

“It’s not every day a black Bentley rocks up into the student car park.... is this really yours? Aren’t you just an art student?”

“Just an art student?” he laughed, “Well yes, but a reasonably well off art student as it seems.”

“Reasonably well off? Hmm... I wonder what that makes me.”

“Money's just an object Maggie. It can’t buy you happiness.”

“I’d say this car would make that group of boys out there very happy.”

He laughed again and shook his head.

His car must have been worth my car x1000 and I was so tempted to ask how he got so much money, but thought it might be rude. I looked back out the window to where Pip was standing, but not surprisingly, she was gone. Kelly had most likely already left—she wasn’t one to hang around five minutes after the final bell rang.

Jackson eventually managed to maneuver around the kids in the parking lot and escape out onto the open road.

“Where exactly are we going?”

He grinned, but didn’t take his eyes off the road, “The lake side. I have it all planned out in my head, the waters supposed to look mesmerizing this time of year.”

The lake side, huh? I guess that was a good idea... I hoped he wasn’t going to make me get in the water though...

-----

He wasn’t joking about lake being mesmerizing.

It was humongous, at least 50 football fields or something like that. I didn’t know how they measured lakes. There were swans hovering around the edges and big mountains reflected on its surface.

“I see what you mean,” I breathed, as we made our way down to the shore.

He nodded, but seemed to be focused on something—analyzing the setting maybe. The edge of the lake was grassy, but I decided to take off my shoes anyway so they wouldn’t get wet if I happened to fall in. I treasured my favourite shoes over my dignity. The atmosphere of the lake was so peaceful; I didn’t think I would have any trouble sitting still for a while.

“Maggie, would you just sit by the water and look in for me?” Jackson’s voice startled me a bit, but I complied.

I moved to the very edge of the lake and sat cross legged and looked in. My hand made its way down into the water and I swirled it around a bit, just out of curiosity. It was cold, but not finger numbing cold.

“Is this okay?” I turned to look up at him, but he was already seated a few meters away from me with his big canvas book out. He was drawing more carefully than last time and his face looked calm, but still very focused. He had ignored my question, but I expected that much. I turned my head to look back at the water.

We didn’t speak again as he drew me. I couldn’t tell what he was doing while my head was turned away, but I could hear the comforting sound of his pencil marking the canvas. When I heard a piece of paper being gently torn off the page, I looked up at him, but he had started a new picture. I went to look back down at the water when he stopped me.

“No, would you keep looking over your shoulder like that?” His voice was exceptionally gentle and low, kind of like a smooth humming sound. I did as he said, but my heart rate sped up and I was worried that he would somehow tell.

I didn’t feel as comfortable having to look at him as I did when I was looking at the water, even though he was the most pleasant thing to look at here. It wasn’t watching him draw my body that unsettled me this time; it was when he was drawing my face. It seemed like he had been working on my eyes for hours. Every time he would look up it felt like a little jolt of electricity.

When the drawing was finally over, his paints seemed to appear out of nowhere and he was started in seconds. He let me look back down at the water after a while, which was when I noticed the sun starting to set.

.....oop’s. Mom wasn’t going to be happy.

I tried to keep my mind off the fact the Mom was going to question me like crazy when I got back and keep still for Jackson.

“Are you cold?” he asked, completely out of the blue.

I hadn’t thought about it actually, “No I’m fine.”

“I won’t be long.”

I nodded. I was fine, though it was indeed getting a little chilly. He started speeding up his painting to the point where it looked like he was just striking quick lines across his page. This seemed to have worked as, within minutes, he was done. He smiled at the paintings, and then looked over at me several times. The curiosity was burning inside me—I needed to see them, but my manners told me to be patient.

He rose from his place on the grass and moved over to me, paintings in hand. I subconsciously curled up into a little ball when he sat half behind me and shifted the paintings into my view.

He smiled contently, “I couldn’t decide which one I liked better, so I painted both.”

They were beautiful paintings—obviously—but the one where I was looking away didn’t look like me at all. It could have been any one with long dark hair.... It was painted in a more abstract style that the other one, which was still incredible.

I kind of wanted one, they had an eerie kind of feel about them, but I didn’t have an excuse for arriving home with a painting this time.

“They’re fantastic Jackson,” I complimented. They simply were.

“You don’t mind if I take these one’s do you? My lecturer will be interested to see this model I’ve been telling him so much about.”

I smiled shyly, “no not at all.”

He stood up and dropped both the paintings on the grass. I gasped and stared at him with my mouth open—what was he doing? They could have gotten smudged or something!

He just smiled his charming, insane smile and held his two hands out to me, offering me a hand up. I still couldn’t believe that he would be so careless with those paintings, but that wasn’t going to make me pass up the offer. I had been sitting down for a very long time; I could only remember standing once in the past few hours.

I took his hands and he pulled me up in one effortless movement. I had an immediate urge to straighten my shirt and give my shorts a tug, but that could wait.

Jackson pulled me against his chest.

I took a few shocked breaths as he wrapped his arms securely around my shoulders. The fact that I was cold before seemed to be a distant memory now that I was where I was; my face was probably burning a hole in his nice shirt.

The last time I had been hugged by a boy was when I was 15 by Pip’s older brother Bronco. Not only was it awkward and unnecessary, but he then proceeded to kiss me not so politely on the lips.

This was nothing like that. It was friendlier.

“Thanks for everything Maggie,” he said quietly. I didn’t really like the way he said it; it felt too much like a goodbye. I shrugged against his torso and for the first time noticed how heavenly he smelt.

I felt an ironic, cold gust of wind freeze my arms as he let go of me and bent over to pick up his paintings. If he was looking at me, I would have looked like a moron. I wasn’t quite ready for him to let go, so I had a peculiar, sad expression on my face—one that made me look like a little girl who didn’t get her way.

None the less, I helped him pick up his art things and take them back up to his car.

“We’re friends right Jackson?”

He placed the paintings carefully in the boot and jumped into the driver’s seat.

“Of course,” he started up the car, “did you really need to ask?”

“I was just checking...do you wanna know something funny?” I asked lightly, placing his sketch book and paints carefully into the back.

“What’s that?”

“I think you’re the only friend I have.” I slid into the passenger seat beside him and the car started moving back onto the road.

Wow smooth Maggie, seriously. What was my problem? He didn't seem to think I was a dork though.

“That can’t be true.”

I shook my head and buckled my seat-belt, “it is.”

He seemed upset by this, and he frowned.

“What about those girls you were with on Saturday?”

A lump formed in my throat and I immediately regretted bringing this up. How could I have been so idiotic? I didn’t want to dive into the details about why my friends had ‘dumped me’; I just wanted to make him feel important.... or maybe it was my response to the goodbye-ish thank you he gave me before...

I shrugged and leaned my head against the side of the car then proceeded to stare out the window. I needed to nip that conversation in the bud.

After a moment of silence, I could feel his eyes on me.

“Maggie?” he asked.

“Hmmm?”

“Are you hungry?”

My stomach rumbled shamelessly and I couldn’t get away with being polite and saying no. Mom was going to have to wait a little bit longer.