Page 28 of Silent Damage

I know it.

They’re too hot not to be.

God, I hate myself.

He said my drawing is sick, and I’m blushing.

Blushing.

I avert my eyes, flipping the pad and pretending like I’m studying the drawing. It’s pretty much done; I don’t need to add anything, but I do anyway. I start adding little unnecessary details because if I make eye contact with him again, I don’t know what I’ll do.

Jason takes a seat at the foot of the bed.

I don’t look.

I can’t.

I can feel him watching me, studying my every move.

Just like before.

And it feels so good.

My skin tingles, feeling his gaze locked on me, and the warmth on my cheeks slowly covers my whole body.

I feel like I’m on fire.

I glance at him again, and he’s still watching me while biting his lower lip.

Oh god. This is it. Do it, Gabe.

I slowly bend my right leg, creating an angle that makes the boxers fall, revealing my thigh.

My hands are shaky.

The lines are sloppy, and my breathing is heavy.

I glance at him again.

He’s not looking at my face or my hands scribbling on this sketch pad.

He stares directly at my exposed thigh.

The lights are warm, which makes his skin look like honey. He’s tan—always has been, whereas I’m white as a ghost no matter what. If I spend an hour in the sun, I just fry.

That warm feeling from before erupts. I’m not just on fire anymore—

I’m a fucking phoenix.

He’s so close—

I stop drawing, and my hands loosen, allowing the pad and pencil to fall beside me as I stare at him.

Our eyes meet.

His face cracks, and he takes a deep breath.

My arms fall to the side. It’s a subtle gesture, but he catches the movement.