Page 100 of I Wish You All the Best

He does that thing, that laugh that sort of sounds like a scoff. “You worry a lot.”

“And you’re a quick liar,” I say.

“When I saw that look on your face … When your mom realized you were with me.” He stops, like he’s trying to think of just the right words. “I knew that feeling.”

“Really?”

He nods. “That helplessness, right?”

“Thank you. I …” I start to say. It feels like a perfect moment. My second chance. I flubbed the night of the movie, but maybe now’s the time. Except I’m too much of a coward. “There’s something I need to show you.”

“Oh yeah?”

“It’s a painting,” I say, reaching into my pocket to grab my phone. “It’s, um … Well, it’s a bit weird.”

“You know you are really terrible at giving people bad news?” he says.

“Yeah. I mean, it’s not bad or anything.” I pull up the photo of the painting. “At least, I don’t think it is. But it’s your call to make. It’s a painting of you.”

Nathan pauses, glancing between me and the phone still in my hand. “You painted me?” he asks.

I nod.

“Please tell me you didn’t find a way to paint me nude.”

“What?” I sputter. “No!”

“Okay, because you’re great, Ben, but that may or may not be a deal breaker.”

“How would that not be a deal breaker?”

“Depends on how you capture my curves and finesse.” He winks at me.

I turn off my phone and slide it back into my pocket. “Okay, never mind. Let the suspense kill you.”

“No, wait.” He reaches for my hand again. “Come on, I was just teasing.”

I point a finger at him. “No jokes, okay?”

“I promise.” He sticks out his hand again. “Pinky promise.”

I grab my phone again, and the picture of the painting is the first thing that comes up. I brace myself and hand it over to him. He doesn’t react at first, then slowly but surely, his mouth spreads into that all-too-familiar grin that I think I’ve fallen in love with.

I never want him to stop smiling.

“Ben …” he starts, but his voice fades off again.

“It sort of happened, and I know it seems creepy or whatever, so if you want to hate me you can, but yeah. I just used a few of the selfies you took on my phone.” I’m talking so fast that it jumbles together, and I don’t think he really understands me. “I had to change some things, pull from other pictures.”

“Ben.” He grabs my arm, and that shuts me up. “I love it.”

“Really?”

“I’m so yellow.” He laughs. “It might be my favorite.”

“You’re just saying that because it’s your portrait.”

“I mean you have to admit I make a good model.” He won’t stop staring at the picture. “I can’t wait to see the real thing. Is it going to be in the show?”