“Don’t be. It’s not your fault you make me happy.”
I’m not sure what to say to that, so I make a weird croaking noise. According to our housemates, it’s no secret that I like Quinn, but I’ve never been able to fathom whether he’s even remotely interested in me. Then he makes a comment like that, and I wonder if maybe he does.
“What book are the illustrations you’re working on for?” I’m stalling, hoping he’ll stay a little longer.
He taps the side of his nose. “It’s top secret.”
I chuckle. “I won’t tell anyone.”
His eyes sparkle as he narrows them.
“I promise.” I cross my fingers over my heart.
“Okay. It’s a debut novel. Mid-grade fiction with Celtic mythology in the modern day. It’s pretty cool.”
“Mid-grade?”
“Tweens. Pre-teens. The nine- to twelve-year-old bracket.”
“You’ve read the book?”
He grins. “I have to. Okay, I don’t have to, but I prefer to. I get sent character descriptions, a full synopsis, and illustration requests, but I find it easier to read the book, so I always request a galley copy.”
I frown. “Galley copy?” I need Preston on standby to act as a walking-talking translator of publishing speak.
Preston is another of our housemates. He does marketing for Peregrin Publishing, who, it turns out, publish a lot of the books Quinn illustrates.
“It’s an uncut, unbound version of the book. The version authors, editors, and proofreaders get to make sure there are no remaining errors that need fixing before it’s ready to be printed for mass distribution.” He rubs the back of his neck. “And now I’ve gone from annoying you to boring you. Sorry.”
I shake my head. “I don’t think you could ever bore me either.”
His eyes become half moons as he grins. “You don’t know me well enough.”
“Then maybe I need to get to know you better.”
Quinn tilts his head. “Maybe I should get to know you better too.” He rakes his teeth over his lower lip and breathes in slowly as he sits. “We could start by going out for a drink?” His voice is tentative.
“I’d like that.”
He releases his breath in a whoosh. He holds two fingers up, letting me know I need to give him some time. I wait patiently until his head jerks up and he grins.
“Great. Let me know when. I’ll try and have a nap first.” He gives me a shy wave and then leaves.
I stare at the open doorway. Quinn just asked me out. It’s enough to chase away thoughts of Mum and put a grin on my face.
3
QUINN
Although I have a drafting table in my room, I prefer to work in the lounge when other people are around. I’m sitting on a beanbag by the window, with my sketchpad on my knee and a galley copy of the book I’m doing illustrations for on the floor beside me. It looks like someone has vomited mini–Post-it Notes all over it. I also have a notepad with every detail about the characters I need to draw from what they look like to how they behave. I aim to bring the characters’ personalities to life as much as their appearance.
Hendrix is sprawled on one of the sofas, channel-hopping. Theo and Preston are on the other sofa, but they’re too busy cuddling and chatting to notice that the TV programme changes every few minutes.
“Isn’t there anything on?” I ask.
“No.” Hendrix sighs dramatically. “How can there be so many channels but nothing to watch?”
We pay for three different TV packages, two of which are purely on demand, so there should be something to pique Hendrix’s interest.
