18
TARA
Iwake to the sound of my shower running. For a moment, I’m disoriented - then memories of last night flood back. Alfie’s hands in my hair. His mouth on my neck. The way he’d made me come, not once but twice. I’ve not slept with many people, but I had no idea sex could be likethat. Especially the first time with somebody.
I stretch, enjoying the pleasant ache in my muscles, and try not to think too hard about what happens next. How do you act normal around someone after a night like that? Is there a guidebook for the morning after sleeping with your fake boyfriend? If so,pleaseorder me a hardback, sprayed edges, the whole shebang.
The shower cuts off, and I definitely don’t imagine water running down Alfie’s chest. Instead, I roll over to check my phone and freeze. There, stuck to my bedside lamp, is a post-it note with an incredibly detailed sketch of my favorite ammonite fossil. The one I found on that field trip last semester that sits on my windowsill. Everycurve of the shell is perfect, the shading so precise it looks almost three-dimensional.
I know it’s Alfie’s. After he showed me some of his sketches of trees in Luzia I’ve been dying to see more of his stuff, he seems to capture light so well. His drawings almost look like you could reach into the page and grab them.
I’m still staring at it when my bedroom door opens. Alfie steps out in just a towel, water droplets running down his chest (okay, so maybeI wasimagining that a little), his dark hair curling damply at his neck.
“Your hot water’s terrible,” he says, like this is a normal morning and not deeply uncharted territory.
“Did you draw this?” I hold up the post-it.
He stills, something flickering across his face. For a moment I think he’ll deny it, but then his shoulder lifts in a slight shrug. “Couldn’t sleep. Your fossil collection is... interesting.”
“You couldn’t sleep so you drew a perfect sketch of an ammonite? At what, 3 AM?”
“4 AM.” He runs a hand through his wet hair, and it’s stupidly attractive. “Drawing helps when my brain won’t shut off.”
I look between him and the sketch. “You should really show these to more people.”
“Not likely.” He starts gathering his clothes, and I catch the tension in his shoulders. “It’s not exactly a Spencer-approved hobby.”
“What do you mean?”
He’s quiet for a moment, pulling on his jeans. “Art is fine for decorating board rooms or impressing dinner guests.Notas a serious pursuit.”
I think about his family’s expectations, about the way they talk in a sanitized, fake tone. I wonder for a moment if anybody has ever encouraged Alfie properly to pursue his dreams. Then, I wonder if anybody has ever encouraged me to.
“Well, I think it’s incredible.” I trace the lines of the sketch with my finger. “Though I have to ask - of all my fossils, why this one?”
He looks at me then, really looks at me, something soft in his expression. “You mentioned it last year, you said you’d found the most perfect ammonite when we were having dinner with everyone. Ethan teased you but you insisted it was the best you’d ever found.”
My breath catches. Because he’s right. That fossil is special. It’s the first one I found on my own, proof that I could do real scientific work.
“You notice things.” I breathe out. “Is that why you stay so quiet, so you can watch people?”
“Only the important ones.” His phone buzzes but he ignores it, moving closer to where I’m still sitting in bed.
Then something shifts in his expression, like shutters closing. He glances at the sketch still in my hand and suddenly tenses.
“I shouldn’t have—” He snatches it away, crumpling it slightly in his haste. Tosses it toward my desk but it misses, landing near my laundry basket. “This was a mistake.”
“Alfie—”
“I’m going to grab coffee.” He’s already pulling on his shirt, movements sharp and jerky. “I’ll be back in ten.”
He’s out my bedroom door before I can respond,leaving nothing but the lingering scent of my shower gel and a hollow feeling in my chest.
Twenty minutes later, my phone pings.
Space boy
Had to check on lab samples. Time-sensitive data.
