“Ten minutes? That’s still unbelievable.”
Awed, I lifted the piece of paper. In the time it had taken me to write a single sentence, he’d sketched me as I was right that second.
He’d captured the messy bun atop my head and replicated my profile as I stared at the speech I was working on. Brows lowered in concentration. I must’ve been biting my lower lip. There was even the freckle under my right eye. Every detail etched in blue ink. It was me, but it didn’t look like me. This girl appeared older and more mature. The slope of the shoulders sophisticated. Sounded weird, but as I stared at the sketch, it was like seeing a different version of myself. A better version of myself.
Did I really look like that to him?
Perched on my shoulder was a butterfly. I thought that was a strange addition until my gaze lifted from the drawing and traveled to the desk. The butterfly carving that I’d started well over a month ago sat unfinished there.
It was finished in his sketch.
I laid the piece of paper on my textbook and carefully smoothed out most of the wrinkles. This one wasn’t going in his portfolio. I was going to keep this forever.
“You like it?” he asked.
“I love it.”
He chuckled, and when I glanced over at him, the pen was moving over his notebook. “Have you written anything for the speech?”
“Of course.”
“You’re lying.”
“Maybe.”
“Rider,” I sighed.
He looked up through his lashes. “It won’t take me that long to write something up. Besides, this is a better use of my time.”
“How so?”
“The drawings make you smile,” he replied with a grin. “Working on the speech doesn’t do anything.”
That...that was so sweet, I wanted to hug him tight, kiss him, too. “Working on your speech will make me smile, too.”
His brows lifted and then he flipped his notebook closed. “I know what else will make you smile.”
“What? You actually doing some homework?”
“Nope.” He glanced at the door again and then rose. “I think me sitting closer to you will make you smile.”
The boy knew me well.
He took a step closer. “I think holding your hand will make you smile.”
I straightened as I watched him.
“And I think...” He sat on the edge of the bed and twisted his body toward mine. “I think kissing you will make you smile, too.”
Oh, dear. I’d totally lost control of this conversation, but I liked it. The corners of my lips tipped up. “I think you’re right.”
“I know, but...” He placed his hand over mine and lowered his voice. “If Rosa comes up here and catches me making you smile in that way, it’ll end badly.”
“You’re not worried about Carl coming up here?”
The right dimple appeared as he shook his head. “Rosa scares me more.”
Laughing, I shoved his arm.
“What? She’s pretty scary. Like badass scary,” he replied. “She looks like she knows how to fight ninja-style.”
“Ninja-style?” I laughed again. “I can confirm that...she does not know karate.”
“That’s a relief.” Leaning over, he kissed my cheek. “It’s about that time.”
Unease curled low in my stomach. Party round two. It was going to be a very different party, not nearly as big as Peter’s. It was just hanging out at someone’s house, a guy from school that Hector and Rider played basketball with. Ainsley wouldn’t be with us, but I was still nervous. What if I bailed again, unable to do it? What if I didn’t talk to anyone? What if I was so worried about doing the wrong thing that I didn’t even try?
He tilted his head to the side, eyes searching mine. “We don’t have to go. We can stay here. Or go to the movies.”
Staying here would be nice. Movies would be awesome, but what did that accomplish? I shook my head. “No. I want to go.”
“Mouse...”
“I’m serious.” I ducked my chin as I picked up the sketch of me and closed my notebook. Scooting to the edge of the bed, I stood and walked over to my desk. “I want to go to the party.”
“It’s not really a party,” he said. “It’s just going to be a couple of people hanging out at a house. Not a big deal if we miss it. There will be more.”
Opening a drawer in my desk, I rooted around until I found the roll of tape. “We’re going.”
There was a pause. “Yes, ma’am.”
I cracked a smile as I taped the sketch to the wall above my desk. “Wait here?”
His eyes were on the sketch. “Not going anywhere.”
Walking out, I grabbed my makeup bag and took it to the hallway bathroom before I lost my nerve and ended up changing my mind. I pulled out the bobby pin and then ran a brush through my hair. I quickly retouched the makeup—lipstick, blush and added mascara. I figured the sweater dress and thin tights were good enough.
Rider was waiting for me like he said, and when I walked in, his gaze did a slow slide that left a wake of shivers. “I really love it when your hair is down.”