I chuckled. “It’s not that bad.”
Landon raised an eyebrow. “Here I thought we didn’t lie to each other.”
I stilled for half a second, a memory flashing through my mind. A middle school kickball game, the sun dipping low behind the field. Landon and I sat on the sidelines, catching our breaths after a brutal match.
“We should always tell each other the truth,” he’d said. “Even if it’s about how much we sucked during the game.”
I had agreed without hesitation.
Now, standing here, I exhaled slowly. “Maybe some things change.”
I gathered the canvases and set them in the corner to dry, but I felt his eyes on me, thoughtful, searching.
“Maybe some things don’t,” Landon murmured.
A strange pressure built in my chest. There were too many emotions, too fast. I needed an outlet, a distraction, something to pour this feeling into before it swallowed me whole.
“I think I know what I want to paint,” I blurted.
His brows lifted. “Oh?”
“It’s a secret.” I tucked my hands behind my back. “But trust me. It’s part of my identity.”
Something flickered across his expression, but he didn’t press. “Okay.” He stood, stretching. “I’ll leave you and your creative genius alone.”
“You can stay,” I offered, surprising myself.
“You sure?”
“Of course.” I turned back to my canvas, my mind buzzing with an energy I hadn’t felt in a long time.
Behind me, Landon settled comfortably onto the couch. It didn’t take long before he was snoring softly.
Hours later, I finally stepped back from my work, paint smudged across my fingers, exhaustion creeping into my limbs.
There, on the canvas, was the dugout where Landon and I had shared our first kiss. I pressed a hand to my mouth in shock. Even though I had taken an active role in the creation of this canvas, the outcome still surprised me.
“Wow,” Landon breathed behind me. “You chose this as part of your identity?”
I nodded. “Does that bother you?”
“Not at all. I’m honored, actually.”
“That’s good,” I said. “Because I’m mostly confused.”
Landon scooted backward on the couch, leaving an open area for me. “Do you want to talk about it?”
After a minute of internal debate, I crawled onto the couch next to him. Lying down, our chests nearly pressed together. “Not really.”
He hummed. “That’s okay too.”
Our breathing synced and there was something about that action that made my heart beat even faster. Landon wrapped a hand around my forearm, his long fingers gentle against my skin, and I tried so hard not to scare the moment away that I froze.
The thought of being close to Landon like this—not just of physical intimacy, but emotional intimacy too, was enough to make me forget to breathe. Perhaps that was the real reason why I tucked away my feelings for Landon and tried so hard to love others. Loving Landon was scary because it was real.
He met my stare with equal fervor and unlike my lack of breath, he breathed so hard he was almost panting. Maybe that was something that should disturb me, but it didn’t. It made an odd tingle run through me instead, an off pulse of something liquid and hot that I couldn’t think too deeply about.
Slowly, I leaned forward, but he stayed in place, letting me remain in control. When my lips touched his, it felt exactly how the romance books described: like coming home. His lips were warm under mine, and our eyes fluttered shut in unison.
