Page 7 of See You in Your Dreams

As for anything beyond a brief fling, well…that’s not in the cards for me. Romance leads to intimacy, and intimacy leads to too many uncomfortable questions. Too many opportunities for me to slip up or make a mistake.

Still…one drawing of a cute boy is harmless enough, right?

Shoving down my unease, I continue with my sketch, shading as I go. No doubt I’ve got the proportions of his nose wrong, or perhaps made his lips too full or his cheeks too narrow. I’d only really seen his face the once. Other than the occasional glimpse in the halls or in class, I’ve ignored him as determinedly as I have everyone else.

But this kind of sketch isn’t about accuracy or precision. It’s about capturing sensation—evoking thefeelingof what I’d seen. Details pale in comparison to the whole picture.

And on that front, I think I’ve done a pretty good job. I’ve just started on his eyes, struggling to capture the odd mix of melancholy and strength I’d glimpsed there, when someone clears their throat above me.

“Um, hi. What are you drawing?”

My pencil jumps on the page, leaving a wild squiggle. I hurriedly slam my sketchbook shut and glare up at the intruder. My heart skips a beat when I see who it is.Shit.The subject of my sketch stands there, smiling down at me hesitantly.

“It’s private,” I snap.

The boy’s smile fades. “Right. Of course. Sorry.” He rubs at the back of his neck, then holds out his hand. “I’m Dylan.”

I stare at his proffered hand. Even if I wasn’t determined to keep my distance, the thought of touching the subject of my most recent drawing feels oddly intimate.

After a moment, Dylan lowers his hand, awkwardly shoving it in his pocket. Guilt coils through me, and I sigh.

“Ash,” I say reluctantly.

“Ash…” Dylan repeats. He considers the name. “Your parents must’ve been fans of Pokémon.”

“It’s short for Ashton,” I reply, rolling my eyes. “Besides, the name existed long before Ash Ketchum ran around abusing animals.”

“Whoa, did we watch the same show? I don’t remember any animal abuse.”

I shrug. “Not sure what else you’d call shoving living creatures in tiny cages and forcing them to fight for your own selfish amusement.”

“They were his friends!”

“Some friend,” I snort.

“Not a Pokémon fan. Noted.” Dylan grins at me.

Heat skitters across my skin before I remember myself. I fix him with my trademark scowl. “So, what did you want anyway? I’m busy.”

Dylan’s smile dims as he gestures past me. “I usually meet my friends here for lunch. Mr. Simon lets us eat in his room. And you’re, uh, kinda blocking the door.”

I glance behind me. Sure enough, there’s an alcove there with a door set into each side. A light shines through one of their windows, though I can’t see past the frosted glass.

Oops.

I should just apologize and scoot out of the way. That would be the easiest way to bring this unwanted disruption to a close. But some foolish part of me yearns to drag the interaction out a little longer.

“Why are you so late?” I ask. “Lunch is almost over.”

He scuffs his worn sneaker on the tiled floor, looking a bit sheepish. “I was in the library catching up on my Calc homework for this afternoon.”

“Aren’t you supposed to do that, you know, athome?”

“Gee, thanks. Next time, I’ll tell my little brother that. I’m sure that’ll make him behave.”

His tone drips sarcasm, and a chuckle bursts out of me before I can stop it. His eyebrows shoot up at the sound, appearing as surprised as I am.

“Have at it,” I mutter, sliding to the side.