His expression morphs into a deeper confusion. “Okay, but why do you draw manga if you like anime?”
“I like both; one is just reading, while the other is watching. And a lot of the time, anime are adapted from manga anyway, so…” I trail off, shrugging.
Either it’s enough of an explanation for Camden or he’s still lost and doesn’t want to make himself look dumb, because he nods a couple times while still looking at my artwork between us.
“Well, it looks really good, even upside down.” He reachesout, pointing at a section I’d just finished where the character’s clothing is creased and wrinkled. “The way you shaded this part was really cool. Like the lines and dots.”
“Hatching and stippling is what it’s called,” I amend, only to really process what he said. “Wait, have you been watching me this whole time?”
“I mean…not the whole time,” he reasons, albeit with a bit of guilt tinting his tone. “But at least I finished the assignment first.”
I scoff, flipping my sketchbook closed and grabbing his laptop, needing to see with my own eyes. But sure enough, the assignment appears to be complete, just waiting for me to check it against the textbook and class notes.
“Why didn’t you tell me you were done?”
“Because I like watching you draw.” His blue eyes shine with pureness and honesty when he adds, “For whatever it’s worth, you’d fit right in with my family. My mom with the art stuff, and with how smart you are, my dad and brother would like you too.”
“Too bad we can’t just trade,” I muse wryly, only for a little laugh to slip out. “God, that’d be convenient over break. Then I wouldn’t have to go to New York over Christmas and watch my parents dote on their golden child.”
“I could go with you. If you wanted.”
I snort and shake my head. “Right. So you can join in on all the hockey talk the entire time?”
“No, so you have someone on your side who gets it,” he replies cautiously. “Or, at the very least, so you don’t have to suffer in solitude.”
There’s a quiet intensity in his gaze that wasn’t there a moment ago, forcing me to reevaluate what I thought was an off-handed comment as a genuine offer. Which is just…wild.
“Wait, you’re being serious?”
He glances away and shrugs. “I mean, it’s not completelyoutta pocket. Everyone in the hockey world believes we’re together, your family included. That’s your whole reason for the fake relationship, right?”
No, actually. The entire reason Camden and I are pretending to date in the first place is because I told Lexi I was seeing someone whocouldn’tcome to New York with me—using that to rationalize my proposal for her to come instead—all because I couldn’t bear for her to know the truth. So Camden coming after all kind of throws a wrench in that entire story.
But he can’t know that, so I pivot and counter the best I can.
“And what aboutyourparents? Wouldn’t they be missing you for the holidays?”
“My brother’s not able to get home this year, and my mom went to her sister’s up in Maine. It would be just me and my dad and…” He trails off with a grimace. “Let’s just say, I’d much rather play referee with you and your family. And besides, I can’t be gone the whole time anyway because of our game over break, so a week in New York would probably be the better option anyway.”
My stomach clenches and throat constricts a bit, still very much weighing his offer, despite knowing it should be an easy refusal. Besides, it’s far more than I could ever ask, especially while knowing I haven’t been entirely honest with him.
And still, part of me wants to consider it.
The more time I spend actually getting to know him, the more I’ve noticed just how similar we are. Maybe not in terms of interests, but definitely in how we move through the world. How we’re second-guessed, overlooked, or questioned.
So maybe having him there wouldn’t be such a bad thing.
I must wait too long to give him an answer, because he clears his throat and makes a vague gesture with his hand.
“You don’t have to decide right now or anything, but, uh, just know the offer is there. You can take it at any point…or not atall.”
I nod weakly, swallowing the knot in my throat. “Thank you for even being willing to do that. Seriously.”
That must ease some of his uncertainty created by my lack of response previously, because a little smile tugs at the corner of his mouth.
“Don’t mention it,” he says before playfully knocking my knee with his. “Now, stop getting distracted. You need to check my work, remember?”
It’s on the tip of my tongue to remind him that I could already be done with checking it over if he would’ve told me he was done ten minutes ago. I keep it to myself, though, muttering a soft “jackass” under my breath instead.
