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“So I can look at it when I want to feel inspired.”
I watch him studying the photo, a little bit heartbroken by what he just said. In a good way. He’s not just saying that because it’s what he thinks I want to hear. He’s too self-secure to do something like that. I mean, he’s the freaking quarterback, he doesn’t need to feel inspired.
But he’s real. I don’t know if I’ve ever met anyone who’s so completely…themself. He’s not fake or pretentious or putting on any kind of front. It’s hard to describe it, but he feels fully realized.
It’s also basically the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to me.
He glances up at me. “Can I?”
“Absolutely not.” But I smile. “I don’t know why you’d want to.”
“Because it’s my new favorite thing. I want to be able to look at it whenever I want.”
“If you’re trying to flatter me, you’re pretty damn good at it.”
“I’m sending it.”
“Oh, fine then.” I shrug and he sends himself the photo as a text message.
Isla weaves her arm through mine. “Hey, roomie. We’re heading back to the dorm. I’ve been instructed to take you with me and I’m not allowed to take no for an answer. See? They can’t help themselves. They think they own this campus and everyone on it.”
“It’s fine. I need to get back anyway. I already have homework due tomorrow, believe it or not.”
Elias still has my phone.
And it just occurred to me that he now has my phone number.
There’s a spark of triumph behind his blue-on-blue eyes.
“Don’t even think about it,” I tell him.
“Think about what?”
I reach for the phone and take it from him. “You need to stay away from me,” I whisper.
“I wish I could,” he whispers back.
Isla doesn’t overhear our low conversation because she’s telling Gabriel and Jake, “No, we do not need you to walk us back. Thank you, but there are four of us. We’re fine. Good night, ya’ll.”
Isla pulls me along with her.
I follow her willingly but I glance back at Elias. “Bye, Elias. Good luck on Saturday.”
He watches me in that way he has, like he can’t believe I’m real. And like he has no intention of waiting until Saturday.
There’s a weird feeling of emptiness in my chest that’s new, as we walk away and I don’t look back. Against my will, I wish I could stay and talk to him all night, and drink in all that beguiled, blue-eyed enchantment.
This is bad.
This is very, very bad.
Then why did it feel so good?
8
“Moving on to our next and final painting,” says Gwen. “I’ve saved the best for last. Once we’ve discussed this one, I’ll reveal to the class whose paintings belong to who. I think some of you might be surprised.”
We’ve been going through the paintings from yesterday, commenting on each one. I’m amazed by the talent in this room.
