“Term projects were coming up, and Mr. Jones tried to help me settle on a subject to paint. A couple months before my Grandma Chen died, she took me to Jackson Park the day the cherry blossom trees bloomed. Well, I had taken a photo of them and decided that I wanted to use the picture as my reference. But even a month into the project, it still wasn’t looking good.”
She laughs again, and I instinctively scoot closer on the bench.
“It was like someone threw up cherry blossoms on a wood chipper.Notcute.” Another adorable nose crinkle. “But Mr. Jones encouraged me to continue. To work hard. He promised that if I finished it by the end of term, he’d allow me to hang it in the Senior Art Showcase. I buckled down, worked my butt off, and it took a lot of late nights, but I did it. I was so proud…”
Something tightens in her expression as she stares at the stars.
“Sounds like a hideous painting, but how is that a disappointment?” I ask.
She goes on almost like she’s talking to herself. “My parents were. Disappointed, I mean. Even though I had built a crazy good work ethic, they were mad that I wasn’t spending more time on my important classes. Even though I was. Ihad.” Her bitter laugh holds none of the warmth her real one does.
She startles as she catches my eye, as if remembering that I’m here too.
Her next words are matter-of-fact. “That project was forme. To prove to myself I could finish, even though it was the ugliest painting I’d ever seen. But I had to rush through studying for a different test and ended up getting a B on my calculus exam.”
“Then what happened?” I ask, and Kate doesn’t seem to register that it’s my fourth question.
She shrugs. “When I told my parents about the Senior Art Showcase, they said they wouldn’t come. That they would be happy to celebrate once I did something worth celebrating.” Kate fiddles with her hands in her lap, a long strand of black hair falling across her cheek. “I didn’t believe them though. I knew they’d show up. So I sat there waiting, but the only person who came was my older sister, Liza. She didn’t want me to be all alone…” Kate blinks for a long moment, as if waking from a dream.
She notices me staring before she puts on on a bright smile.
“That’s me, I guess. Surprise!I’mthe disappointment. And youare far better at playing this game than I gave you credit for. I wasn’t going to tell you half of that!” The apples of her cheeks burn scarlet above her fake smile, and a part of me feels bad.
“Don’t blame yourself, love; it’s all part of my charm.” I wink, but I’m feeling just as unsettled as the look in her eye. That story shook me more than I can make sense of. “That was nice of your sister to show up, though.”
A warm smile replaces her fake one. “Liza is the best. She’s my other half.”
Wow. What would it be like to have someone claim that I’m their other half? Would they wear the same loyal expression Kate does?
For a few seconds, I allow myself to stare. Her smooth skin looks so soft, her black hair shiny even in the moonlight. Her strawberry lips have a permanent pout to them.
On the outside, Kate Chen is the full package. Confident. Bold. Insanely sexy. But it’s the things she told me that makes me want to lean closer.
I’m no stranger to feeling abandoned, and maybe it’s my own messed-up life that is fueling this fire in my gut, but I sort of want to be the one that makes her feel better. Hell, I’ve only known this girl for a few hours, and even I would have gone to that hideous art show.
The vulnerable flush still heating her cheeks warms my fingers as I brush that stray strand of hair away. And for some reason, each passing second speeds up my heart.
Nothing about this feels normal. I’ve sat on these same steps over the years with close to a hundred different girls, but this feels…new.
The unexpected fear sparks a memory of sitting in Tuck’s kitchen when we were about twelve. Eric Sanderson strolled into the kitchen and shamelessly spanked his wife’s butt as he passed, making Tuck pretend to vomit into his cereal bowl.
I remember the twinkle in Eric’s eyes as he wrapped his arms around a laughing Mrs. Sanderson and said, “Wanna find true love, boys? Find the most terrifying woman you can, and marry her.”
Marriage is the last thing on my mind right now. The last thing on the planet, even. And although I love my mom, she’s a walking cautionary tale of why I should keep things casual. Desperation isn’t a good look on anyone.
But I do want a life like the Sandersons’ someday. A stable, loving family and everything I didn’t have growing up. A wife who chooses me the same way I choose her.
Not that Kate is going to be my Mrs. Sanderson, but I can’t explain this magnetic pull in my chest when I look at her. Like something inside me wants Kate to be someone that lasts.
A friend, maybe?
The boiling attraction in my body knows that’s a load of bull, but I can’t quite bring myself to admit the alternative.
What I do know is that Kate isn’t some girl I can take back to my apartment and romp around with. Not if I want something…anythingreal.
And I also know, as my lips meet hers, her embarrassment warm in my palms, that this kiss far outshines any other ones I’ve ever had.
She pulls away before giving me a tiny smile, but her shyness now seems genuine. And I can see my confusion mirrored in her eyes.
