“Yes, so go find someone else to bother, please.” I tried to make it sound harsh, but it came out sad. My body always betrayed me. “I’m terrified of what our lovely Chloë might do tomorrow if she finds you here speaking to me.”
“I’m sorry that she did that. You want me to speak to her?”
“And make it worse.”
“Well, I have to tell her something, right?”
“Why?”
“Because I enjoy hanging out with you.” He sounded severe, as if I couldn’t see that.
“You don’t even know me.”
“I know enough.”
“Yeah, like what?”
“Your name is Elena Watkins. You love art and reading stories about sad cases. I think I understand why now.”
I giggled.
“You move around every three months because of your dad’s job. I’m artistic too, just not with a pencil and paper,” he said and picked up my tote bag without even asking and opened it up.
“Excuse me?”
“Oh, shush.” He looked at the first drawing. His eyes grew. “You drew this?”
“Yes.”
He looked at the one behind.
Please do not carry on browsing. I started drawing a picture of him, and he would think I was pathetic.
“This is seriously good, Elena.”
I grabbed my drawings out of his hand, shoved them in my tote, and zipped up my bag. “And they are quite personal.”
“What?” He smiled. “You have a drawing of me or something in there?”
I laughed and looked at him. “You seriously think a lot about yourself, don’t you?”
He shrugged and pulled the side of his lip upward. “I’m hiding in the gym. I don’t have to think a lot about myself. It is what it is.”
My body still slightly shivered.
“Are you cold?”
“I’ll live.”
He started pulling off his coat.
“No, it’s okay. You don’t have to do that.”
“I’m like a furnace. Here.” He handed it to me as I stared at him. His muscles bulged and stretched at the seams of his sleeves. Shit, this guy is really beautiful.
“Take it before you freeze to death.”
“For the love of blueberries,” I breathed and took his coat. “I’m going to get a bucket of rocks tomorrow morning or something.”
