“Too bad,” I say.
“You’re going to capture my worst angles, aren’t you?”
I snort. “Yeah right, like you have any.” It just comes out. I feel my cheeks flush, but Luke just grins in response, his eyes crinkling, and leans back.
“Okay, do your worst, Watkins.”
I flip to a fresh page and start blocking out the shape of his eyes and nose and lips. Luke fidgets. He pulls his phone out and asks what music I want. I shrug.
“What about one of theDruid Detoxpodcasts?” he asks. “I haven’t listened to the new one.”
“Me either.”
Luke hits play and puts his phone in the shade beside him.
The podcast covers everything known or suspected aboutThe Soul Druid Chronicles, and the new prequel is the subject of the day.
“I can’t believe they don’t like the connected backstories.” Luke shakes his head as they hit a commercial break. I look up from my sketch to agree.
“Seriously. I thought it was brilliant. We always wondered, right?”
“Exactly. Like in book seven of the first series when—”
“Icari has the fever dream and wakes up—”
“And can’t remember Thepha!Thepha?!”
“But he recognizes herface.”
“And we already know he’s a reincarnation, so she had to be too—”
“But that she’s the reincarnation of Aetha?!”
“Brilliant,” Luke agrees. “How’s my face?” He reaches out and takes the sketchbook from me.
“Rough,” I say, even though I’m really happy with it already.
“Brilliant,” Luke says again, a little softer, running his thumb across the swoop of his dark hair on the page. “You’re going to get that fellowship for sure. I’ll miss you all over again next summer.” He hands the sketchbook back and stands up. Then he peels off his shirt and tosses it on the captain’s chair.
“Haven’t you been making anything new recently?” I ask as I start to slide off my shorts. I feel a little self-conscious in just my bathing suit. It’s new—a bright red one-piece that Abbi said makes my butt look like a peach.
“Not really,” Luke admits, swinging his legs around the side of the boat to dip his feet in the water. I climb over next to him and hope the water isn’t too cold. “I’ve done a few posters for the town, and the events board paid for me to go to the International Poster Gallery in Boston last summer before it closed.”
“It’s closed?”
“Yeah, the guy retired or something. You can still see their stuff online.”
“But it’s not the same,” I say, understanding the loss. “How was it?”
“Awesome.” He laughs. “I went full nerd on the 1940s exhibit.” He gives me a quick, unsure glance. “I almost stopped by to see if you wanted to go with me,” he admits.
“Hmm,” I say. I don’t know how I would’ve handled that surprise visit. “Sounds like I missed out.”
“You’re right about that,” he says, and stands up, wobbling a bit on the edge of the boat as it adjusts to his quick movement.
“Careful!” I shout, clinging to the edge so I don’t fall in.
“Take cover!” Luke jumps and cannonballs into the water. The splash soaks my legs. I stand up and follow him. The water is a cool balm to the hot sun, and we play a half-hearted game of tag before I finally catch him. His shoulder is hot and firm under my grip.
