“You’re working hard over there,” I say.
He looks up, catching my eyes, and it makes me bite my lip.
I want to see what tiny details he’s working on righ now so bad, but I force myself to focus on my painting, because now I’m scared he’s going to outdo me.
We paint for another ten minutes, and I feel locked in. I’ve got him. I’ve captured who he is. I don’t do portraits often, but this one feels good.
I set my brush in the water and sit quietly, because Javonte is still painting. His brow is furrowed. He’s leaning in close, adding tiny details.
My heart is pounding.
He leans back, taking in the whole painting, brush still in hand like he might add something else, but then he sets it down and lets out a breath.
“You done?” he asks, surprised.
“I’ve been done for a little bit,” I say.
“All right then. You ready?” There’s a giddiness in his voice.
“I guess.”
“You first.”
I frown at him. “Okay, fine. Are you ready?”
He nods.
I pick my painting up, walk a step closer, and turn it around.
A huge smile breaks across his face. “Oh my God,” he says. “That’s amazing. It looks just like me.”
“It looks like a really fun me.”
“This is how I see you,” I say. “You’re a really fun person.”
“I appreciate that. It’s awesome. I’m going to hang it up in my house.”
“Are you ready to see mine?” he asks.
“Hold on,” I say, setting his canvas back. “Do I need to sit down?”
“Yeah. Sit down so I can come to you.”
I sit, and he stands, slowly walking toward me. When he’s close enough, he turns his painting around, and I lose my breath.
That’s me.
It’s not perfect, but he captured me. There’s a glow to it. A light around it. It’s like he sees the best of me and put it on canvas.
I study it quietly. My hair, all the curls, all the colors. It almost looks like my natural shade. My necklace. My favorite one.
I’m not even wearing it, but he remembered.
I let out a shaky breath and keep looking.
Then I look at him, and tears start to well in my eyes.
It’s hard to breathe, but I force it out.
