"No, no, NO, leave them—" I try to twist my head away from him but it’s useless, his hand follows. He slides the glasses off my face and then makes the one move I’m praying he won’t.
He tickles me.
I scream. Not a cute scream. I try to kick, to twist, to roll away, but he’s a bit stronger and has all the leverage.
"STOP, LET ME TALK—"
I throw everything I have into one last shove, manage to slip out from under him, and basically launch myself off the bed.
Now I’m sitting with my back against the wall, completely out of breath, my hair a mess, while he sits there on the bed laughing.
"Listen," I say between breaths, lifting a hand. "Okay. I’ll show you. I’ll show you what’s inside. Just… leave me alone." He grins and raises both hands in the air like he’s surrendering.
"Okay," he says. I walk toward him slowly, watching him the whole time, then I grab the sketchbook.
He laughs. "I’m not gonna mess with you, I swear. Come on. I wanna see. How bad can it be? I can’t draw shit." I laugh under my breath and sit next to him on the bed, carefully.
"If you touch me, I’m giving Allegra your number," I warn him.
"I won’t touch you!! Just show me."
I hand him the sketchbook, still hesitant. "Okay, listen," I start rambling immediately, "some of these are super rough, I did them at university, don’t start judging and—"
"Shut your mouth, Weston. Art is art."
"…Okay," I mumble.
He opens it. First page: a cat. He lets out this soft little laugh.
"She kinda looks like my cat."
"She does, actually. It’s a random cat outside campus."
"Very pretty," he says, looking straight at me when he says it. Then he turns the page. His eyes go huge.
Yeah. This is the part I didn’t want.
"You draw bikes???" he asks, shocked.
I laugh. "I just wanted something challenging. Bikes have a lot of detail, they’re not easy…"
He nods and studies it way too carefully.
My heart starts beating like crazy, because he actually knows about bikes. If anyone’s gonna see something wrong, it’s him.
"Wow. You really pay attention to every detail, you make it look easy," he says.
"I try," I mumble.
He flips to the next page and finds two faces. He looks at me, stunned. "What?" I ask, laughing.
"Holy shit. You can actually draw. Who are they?"
"A classmate of mine and her brother."
"They’ve seen these?" he asks, genuinely curious.
I nod. He keeps looking, turning more pages. I can feel my cheeks heating up, but he’s not mocking me.
