we were a fresh page on the desk
filling in the blanks as we go
as if the street lights pointed in an arrowhead
leading us home
─ cornelia street by taylor swift

"Hi."

"Hey, you."

"You just woke up?"

"Yeah. The flight wasn't that great and I got hounded by paps when I arrived at LAX."

"Oh, to be you."

Keanu's chuckle echoed through her apartment. The sound brought a sense of comfort in Skeeter's chest even though she was only hearing it through a Skype call.

Skeeter was loitering around the kitchen ─ a novelty ─ looking for plates and utensils that she and her father could use for the evening. He was coming over before her flight to Switzerland tomorrow to either wish her luck or to make sure she wouldn't combust due to nerves or both.

"Are you excited for the awards?"

Skeeter wrinkled her nose and clicked her tongue.

"Excited? Maybe. Nervous? Hell, yes. But there's no backing out anymore, right? I already packed and I have a freaking plane ticket to Switzerland. . ."

She trailed off. Her head seemed to always get light at the thought of the Sushrata Awards coming up. The fear of failing was very much still in her system.

"Hey, Skeeter?"

"Hm?"

Skeeter met his eyes through her phone that was perched on the kitchen counter-top. Keanu was sitting on his couch with the city of Angels as his background. He looked the same when they had said goodbye the night before; he looked like a ruggedly handsome angel as he stared back at her with a soft smile on his face. His beard has grown just a bit and she remembered how he complained that it was always patchy and never the "perfect" beard.

"I know this is easier said than done but just remember to breathe, alright?"

"Breathe?"

"Yeah. . .take one huge deep breath and remember how you got there in the first place."

"After my five failed submissions?"

"I meant after your perseverance and hard-work but we could work with that too."

"Awe, Chuck. You flatter me every time."

The knock on the door signaled the end of their call. Skeeter wiped her hands with the wash cloth and apologetically smiled at the mobile device. She placed her hands on the counter and sighed.

"Hey, I have to go."

"So soon?"

"Unfortunately, yes. My dad's here."

"Okay. I'll see you in a few days."

"Okay. I miss yo ─ right. See you in a few days."

"And, Skeeter?"

"Yeah?"

"I miss you too."

CALL ENDED! 

A blissful smile was the last thing Keanu saw as he dropped the call.

Skeeter had to restrain herself from squealing; her dad might think she was housing a pig. She was scared to admit it but she really did miss Keanu ─ his presence, his calming smile, and his lame jokes. Most of all, she kinda missed someone who looked after her. She was an adult ─ approaching 40 for Christ's sake! ─ but Skeeter low-key liked being pampered through late night phone calls and dinner being brought to her when she was working a 48 hour shift.

For the first time in five years, Skeeter wasn't so scared of getting hurt whether it be physically or emotionally. Little by little, he had earned her trust; she knew Keanu was someone she could tell all her past traumas and minuscule worries. But, she hadn't. Not yet. Skeeter hoped she would be brave enough to do so.

"I like what you did with the place." William Evans said as he walked in, "Unaltered and tidy."

Skeeter rolled her eyes good-naturedly. "If that's your way of telling me that I have a boring style, thank you."

His nurse ─ Kelly ─ followed closed by, her hands full of food that William and herself had cooked. Skeeter ushered her into the kitchen as they got the food ready. She explicitly told her father to wait in the living room for food to be brought to him, making sure he wouldn't move that much due to the problems with his heart.

"I could buy you a dinner table but I'm afraid it'll just collect dust." William said and he was met with his daughter's giggle.

He settled on the couch and grumbled to himself why Skeeter didn't own a TV so he could keep himself pre-occupied. A biker style leather jacket draped on the arm rest caught his eye. It was black and had distinctive white patches on the sides. The jacket looked like something you'd wear on a motorcycle and it was definitely for too large for Skeeter to wear. Had one of his sons bought a motorcycle?

"Dinner is served!" Skeeter exclaimed and plopped down next to her father. She handed him his plate and tucked her legs underneath, digging into her mashed potatoes and steak like a hungry animal.

"Be careful, Skeeter." Kelly chided, taking a seat on the recliner. "You might choke ." Her warning went unheard but Skeeter did manage to nod her head and take a gulp of her water.

William had remained quiet, trying to piece together the all-too-large jacket draped on the couch and he hadn't missed those combat boots by the door. Aside from the combat boots being too big for Skeeter's feet, his daughter didn't wear combat boots; it was either Converse or flip-flops.

"I like your jacket." William commented nonchalantly, "It smells nice too."

Skeeter furrowed her brows. "What?" He pointed to the jacket draped on the couch and her eyes widened in surprise. "Charlie must have left it." She calmly walked away to place the jacket inside her bedroom.

"She's lying." William told Kelly, leaning in.

Kelly rolled her eyes. "Don't pry into her business, William."

"I won't."

"I have a feeling you will."

"I didn't know Charlie was into motorcycles." William said once Skeeter got back. From behind his daughter, he could see Kelly was warning him not to ask more questions through her narrowed eyes.

Skeeter blinked owlishly. ". . .Yeah. He is. It's a new hobby he and Alec decided to try."

"Oh?"

"Yep."

"That's good. It seems a bit odd though that he'll leave his jacket when he's already moved to DC."

"I know. I'll just mail it back to him."

"Do you like that he's into motorcycles now?"

"God, no." Skeeter grumbled and crossed her arms, "It's a bit reckless but he swears he's an expert so I'll just have to trust him."

"So, what's his name?"

Skeeter whipped her head to him and laughed nervously. "W ─ wha ─ you're funny, pa."

William shrugged and placed a hand on her shoulder, squeezing it in reassurance. "Well, whatever his name is, I hope he's a kind man." He didn't fail to catch the faint blush on his daughter's cheeks or how her lips curled into a soft smile.

"He is." Skeeter met his eyes and it seemed like she couldn't stop smiling. "Too kind for this world actually."

"Do I get to meet him?"

"I ─ I don't know." She answered and fiddled with her fingers, "We haven't talked about telling our families but Charlie knows and so does his best friend. And ─ uh ─ we like how it is right now."

"Do I get to ask more questions until you're uncomfortable? Or should I just stop?"

Skeeter chuckled. "Just stop, dad. I'll tell you more about him someday."

"I hope that's sooner rather than later because God knows how much time I have left."

Skeeter narrowed her eyes at him. "Don't use the heart problems card on me."

"I only use it when I want one of my children to really do something for me."

"Well, it's not working."

William tipped his head to the side. "It's not?"

"No."

"Okay."

The trio went back to their meals. The air wasn't tensed; it was just. . .silent for awhile. After a few minutes, Skeeter and Kelly engaged in a conversation about the recent pile-up on the highway and the nurse was in awe at how the trauma surgeon held her composure despite the influx of patients. They had tried to get William involved in the conversation but the retired teacher continued to intently stare at his daughter after his one-worded replies. 

Finally, when Kelly had gone to use the restroom and the dishes were disposed to the sink, Skeeter returned to her spot beside her father. William enclosed his hand around hers. 

"You mean it, right, Cordelia Anne?" William croaked out. His children knew that when the second names were said, he meant business. He knew she could see it; she could see the trepidation in his eyes. All of his children had gotten their eyes from him yet he claimed it was only her who had inherited his intense need to know more. Right now, William needed to know more about this hypothetical man that was maybe dating Skeeter ─ his Cordelia. "He's kind? He treats you right?" 

Skeeter knew what he meant. With soft smile on her lips, she pressed a tender kiss on her father's wrinkled hand. She sighed and went on. "Dad, I know you're scared but trust me when I say that I have a good feeling about this. However, I only say that because he accepts my work schedule and my incessant need for caffeine."

"Does he accept the scars?"

Her smile fell and clouds had started to appear in her eyes. Crinkling her nose, Skeeter mumbled a reply to which William had barely heard. "He doesn't know yet." 

Smiling apologetically, William tucked a strand of brown hair behind her ear. "Skeeter," His voice was calm yet it commanded to be listened to. "Scars are ─ "

"I know." She interrupted him. Skeeter closed her eyes and sighed deeply. It looked like she was about to take a plunge into a pool. When she opened her eyes again, they were steady; her confidence and fearlessness anchored in her expression. "Scars are okay." She started her mantra, one she had come to live by over the years. "They don't define who you are; they only show what you've gone through."

William pressed a kiss on the top of her head. "Wise words you got there, Skeet." 

Skeeter brought her knees to her chest, curling into her father's side. "Yeah because you taught me that." 

At this point, Skeeter didn't feel like she was about to fly half-way across the world to win or lose a prestigious medical award. There was no dreading about the SAT Awards or thinking of a plan on how to trick Charlie into driving for their whole trip. Skeeter felt like she was ten years old again and she was listening to her father going on and on about the body's circulatory system while daydreaming about this boy she really liked. 

⊱ ──────ஓ๑♡๑ஓ────── ⊰

"And, Skeeter?"

"Yeah?"

"I miss you too."

CALL ENDED! 

Keanu sighed contently before sinking deeper into the couch and staring at the ceiling. How was this relationship with Skeeter so easy yet electrifying at the same time? 

"I hope you're not talking to your motorcycles because that would be truly strange."

He sat up upon hearing the voice. "No, mom, you'll be glad to know that I'm not completely invested in my motorcycles." Keanu closed his laptop and made his way over to where his mother was standing to greet her.

When they pulled away from their hug, Patricia Taylor placed a hand on her son's cheek. The woman's gaze was fixed on the expression displayed among his features. He looked. . .contented. 

"So, what's her name?" She wasn't one to beat around the bush. When she wanted to ask a question, she'd ask a question. If she hated the thought of Keanu riding motorcycles, she would blatantly tell him. Patricia was too old to worry whether her or not her son would end up hating her because of her annoying protests (but, he wouldn't; he loved her just a little too much). "Is she pretty? Keanu, please tell me she's pretty." 

Keanu bit back a grin, an image of Skeeter's smile popping into his head. He diverted their conversation to his mother's surprise visit. "What brings you here, mom?" His mother usually dropped by his house and the reasons would range from I read this funny tabloid about you to I need you to drive me to my friend's funeral. He padded his way to the kitchen, his mother following closely behind. 

"Can't I visit my only son?" Patricia retorted. She took a seat on one side of the marble kitchen island and accepted he glass of water he slid to her side. "So, Keanu dear, who do you miss?" 

"You." He gave her a tight-lipped smile and set his hands on the kitchen island. "I haven't seen you in months, mom. I miss you." Keanu knew how to win his mother's game; he had been immune to her game of personal questions after a few years. 

Patricia rolled her eyes. "Please. You're too old to miss your mother." 

"Ouch. That stung." 

"Glad it did." She leaned forward and looked him dead in the eye, "So, her name, Keanu?"

"Are you staying for dinner?" He busied himself by looking through his cupboards in search of a pan. "I can make dinner if you want."

"Skeeter." Patricia smirked as she saw her son's movement stop as if he was a computer buffering. "That's her name. I'm correct, aren't I? I heard you on the phone." 

"It was a Skype call and how do you feel about having chicken for dinner, mom?"

"Does she work in entertainment too?"

"Chicken, yeah?"

"Is there a vast age gap between the two of you?" 

"Or we could order in. Is it going to be Chinese or a box of pizza?"

"Judging by your reluctance to answer my questions, I'd guess you and her have probably just started dating."

"What would you like on your pizza, mom?" Keanu asked nonchalantly, tapping away on his phone for that pizzeria he and his mother loved. 

"Does she hate that you smoke?" 

Keanu clicked his tongue. "She doesn't know I smoke." He finally met his mother's gaze and saw that she had remained quiet so that he could continue. "But, she's probably figured it out by now. She's smart." 

"Well, if you two break-up because she hates your motorcycles, give me a call."

"Glad to see your support at my chance of happiness." 

Patricia smirked and raised one eyebrow. "She makes you happy?"

"'Course she does." He shoved his hands into his pockets, "She keeps me on my toes and gives me space to breath." His mother asked again if she was pretty and this made Keanu chuckle. He shook his head because it shouldn't really matter if the person was sculpted like a Victoria's Secret model. Nonetheless, he answered the question. "She's divine ─ both in personality and looks and brains." 

Patricia nodded, a satisfied smile on her lips. "For what it's worth, I'm only asking you these questions because I care about you, Keanu. I would like to meet the woman who may or may not make you rethink your bad habits."

"You didn't ask Sandra about my invigorating love life?"

"She wouldn't budge; she's learned over the years." 

"Yes, she has." He met his mother's gaze. "Skeeter is a doctor ─ trauma surgeon to be specific." 

"Well, at least she has a college degree." 

Maybe Keanu wasn't exactly immune to his mother's game of personal questions.