Every time I look up, he’s already looking at me. There’s no break. He doesn’t glance away, he doesn’t even pretend to be shy.
I don’t know how he does it. He’s just watching me watch him. "Stop staring," I mutter, focusing on the slope of his brow.
"I thought that was the point," he says.
"It’s the point that I stare atyou, not the other way around," I say, trying to sound annoyed instead of flustered.
He grins. I sketch the eyebrows next. They’re darker, thicker toward the center.
I try to capture the way they dip when he’s concentrating. He’s concentrating now. On me. My pulse is so loud it’s actually embarrassing.
I move down to his nose, tracing the bridge with my eyes first. There’s a very tiny bump from when he broke it, when we’re younger.
Then my gaze drops to his mouth.
That’s where it gets complicated.
He opens it to say something.
"Don’t talk," I blurt out. "Excuse me?"
"I’m sorry, I’m just drawing your lips," I say, way too honestly. "If you talk, they move."
He goes quiet. He has a full bottom lip, a sharper edge on the top one. I sketch the curves lightly, trying to get the shape exactly right.
I take a deep breath, and I go over the part where the piercing sits. I look at the real thing again. That silver hoop on the side of his mouth. I draw it with a couple of simple strokes, a tiny highlight where the light hits.
It’s really such a small detail, but without it, it wouldn’t be him.
"Is that my piercing?" he asks quietly.
"Obviously," I say. "Kind of the main event."
He laughs softly and it ruins the angle, so I click my tongue. "Hold it like before. You moved."
"Yes, sir," he says. I move up to his eyes. I never noticed how long his lashes are. I draw the outline slowly, trying to get his gaze right.
There’s no point in drawing someone if you don’t get the way they look at you.
"Why are you frowning?" he asks softly.
"Because you’re annoying to draw," I say.
He smiles again. "Annoying how?"
"Your face has… a lot going on."
"Is that a compliment?"
"Take it however you want, Fontana," I mutter. He shifts again, this time just to lean even closer. "You’re really into this."
"No, I’m casually drawing your entire face from memory and live reference for fun," I say. "Of course I’m into this. Now stop talking. I need to get the shadows right."
He chuckles but obeys.
30 Minutes Later
My hand finally starts to relax. The drawing is starting to look like him, almost painfully like him.
