“English, since I’ve been in America.”
“What would you say if I asked to read something?”
One corner of his mouth quirks up, fashioning an adorably askew smile. “I would say, ‘You are a very curious person.’”
This, for some reason, makes me laugh. “I like when you joke.”
“I like when you make me feel light enough for jokes.”
I hold his gaze and tell him what he must already know: “I likeyou.”
He blinks, languid, thick lashes brushing high cheekbones. When his eyes meet mine again, they’re a flurry of conflict. “Elise… all this…us. It’s very complicated. You understand, don’t you?”
“I do.” I understand that his response isn’t a rebuff, or a denial of his feelings. It’s the opposite. He likes me, too; that’swhyit’s complicated.
He glances at his notebook, still balanced on my hand, then looks at me. I see trust in his eyes, trust and affirmation and affection, and my skin prickles with heat.
He says, “You can read something, if you really want to.”
“Ireallywant to.”
He takes the notebook and thumbs through it, his face drawn in circumspection. He flips past some pages quickly, wearing an expression like,Oh, hell no, and considers others more carefully. I’m wondering at the criteria he’s using for this prudent selection process when, finally, he opens the notebook’s pages wide and looks up at me.
“This one was for fun,” he says, smiling reluctantly. “I was just… playing around.”
He holds the notebook out to me.
MATI
Twinkle, twinkle shiny star,
set ablaze the sky so far.
In his world she lights a spark,
illuminating swathes of dark.
Her eyes, her smile, glowing bright,
twinkle, twinkle, up all night.
Waves and gulls, at the beach,
words to teach and walls to breech.
In her he has found a friend,
links to mend, bonds transcend.
Walking, wandering, toes in sand,
how he longs to take her hand.
Dandelions, foggy skies,
sights now seen through wondrous eyes.
Glinting in a night of black,
