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“Yes.”

“You don’t have friends who come over?”

“I have you.”

“I’m not your friend.”

“Friends can leave. You can’t.”

Jamie studies me for long enough that I start to wonder what he’s looking for.

“You’re staring.”

“You stare at me all the time.”

“You’re pretty.”

His mouth curves. “So are you.”

“I know.”

That makes him smile properly. His gaze stays on my face.

Yesterday he learned fear. Today he’s learning how to use pretty. I let him try.

After a moment, he leans closer. “I’d do your eyes differently.”

I touch beneath one of them. “What’s wrong with them?”

“Nothing.”

“Then why would you change them?”

“I didn’t say I’d change your eyes.” His gaze moves over my face again. “I’d change your makeup.”

“Show me.” I stand. “Before I change my mind.”

He follows me upstairs.

In his room, I sit at the vanity and watch him go through the makeup. He picks up one palette, puts it down, then reaches for another.

“Not that one.”

Jamie looks at me in the mirror. “Are you doing this or am I?”

“You are. That color is ugly.”

“It’s not going to be ugly when I’m done.”

I look at the palette again. “You may use that palette. The result had better not look like the bracelet.”

He turns my chair until I’m facing him, then steps between my knees.

I set my palm on his hip and let my thumb find the crease where the skirt starts, pressing in until I feel muscle jump under the fabric.

Jamie holds my chin while he studies my face, turning it slightly one way and then the other before he reaches for a brush. “Close your eyes.”

I do.