“Hell yeah. Whichever one you don’t mind parting with. Or are they all hanging up in your parents’ house somewhere?”
That question earns him a laugh, though this one leaves a bitter taste in my mouth. “No. No, they’re not hanging anywhere. They’re sitting in the portfolio in my bedroom at home.”
“Seriously?” His brows pull together, a crease forming between them. “If my daughter had that kind of talent, I’d be telling the entire freaking world. I’d be one of those obnoxious parents who can’t get through a conversation without bringing up their kid. I’d be whipping out pictures on my phone like, ‘Say, have you seen Ivy’s latest masterpiece?’”
I snicker because I could totally picture Wes doing that and shut the laptop. “Yeah, well, my parents aren’t like that. I had to beg them to let me major in graphic design.”
Though, to be honest, I didn’t really beg. I just refused to go to college for anything other than design, and once they finally agreed, we argued about which school I would attend. They were adamant I enroll in Harrington, which had a slightly better design program than Stratus. Harrington had always been my first choice, but even though I preferred the campus and the class offerings, I couldn’t go. I wouldn’t go.
Not withhimthere.
Luckily, Stratus offered me a way bigger artistic scholarship, and that was that.
Wes slings his arm over my shoulder, pulling me into his side. He presses his lips against the top of my head and murmurs, “Thanks for sharing your work with me.”
“It only took me six weeks to work up the nerve.”
“Better late than never,” he teases before clearing his throat. He pulls back so he can look at my face, and I’m surprised to catch a rare sighting of nerves behind his eyes. My stomach knots in response as I try to predict whatever he’s about to say. “So I wanted to run something by you…”
I bite my nail between my teeth, eyeing him warily. “Okay.”
“My parents are in town tomorrow,” he states.
I blink at him, confused as to why he seemed anxious to tell me that. “Oh, really? Is there an occasion?”
“No, I don’t think so. They’re just making a weekend trip up to visit me.”
“Wow,” I say, knowing my parents would never show the same interest. “That’s nice of them.”
“Would you want to go to dinner with us?” he asks, his eyes fixed on mine. “They’re excited to meet you.”
My pulse speeds up, and I swallow against my suddenly dry mouth. “They, um, know about me?”
He laughs a little as though he finds my question silly. “Of course, Ives. I’ve told them all about you.”
“Oh,” I say, surprised by this admission. I haven’t told my parents anything about Wes, and for good reason. I can already imagine the look of horror on my mom’s face if I told her how much time I was spending with a boy. I picture the wheels turning inside her mind as she comes up with a million different ways in which this could fuck up my life. “Are you sure they’ll want me there?”
He doesn’t even have to think about it. “I’m a hundred percent positive they will want you there.”
I study his face but find nothing but sincerity in his expression. “Well, what exactly have you told them about me?”
He grins like he was hoping I’d ask that exact question. “I told them how much time we spend together, and that you’re asaint for putting up with me. Honestly, they were impressed I haven’t gotten on your nerves yet.”
I give him a look. “They did not say that.”
“They did! And I told them I wouldn’t have passed my first speech without your help and that you essentially saved my GPA, my med school prospects, and basically my entire future career with your kindness, patience, and generosity.”
I blink at him. “Are you serious?”
He keeps going, his grin stretching wider. “I also told them your major and how artistic you are, though that was before I knew the full extent of your talents. Now I can go back and rave about them and how you altered my entire reality when you told me about that color relativity stuff.”
“Wes…”
“And then, of course, I had to brag a little about how cute and cuddly you are. And how amazing you smell. And how soft your lips are?—”
I swat his arm. “You did not!”
He smirks at my horrified expression. “Okay, that one was a lie. But they’ll see for themselves how pretty you are in person…once you agree to meet them.”
