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I shouldn’t have been surprised that he was the first thing I wanted to draw.
My tongue stuck out between my lips as I worked, sweeping my hand over the page.
When the drawing was done I immediately turned to the next page. I found myself drawing Ollie and Talia, standing in front of their Volkswagen van. Ollie was smiling down at her, and Talia had her head lifted up to his with a smile on her face. They were honestly some of the sweetest people I’d ever met, and while I’d been leery of them first, I didn’t know what I’d have done without them. They’d saved me—helped me escape without even realizing it.
I finished that drawing and then I couldn’t help but do another of Liam.
And another.
I was like a fucking junkie.
“Is that me?”
I jumped, clutching the sketchpad to my chest and looked up, shielding my eyes from the sun. It was only beginning to go down, and it haloed behind Liam, casting him in shadow. I couldn’t see his face to read his expression, but knowing him, it was twisted in a scowl.
“It’s a person,” I stated blandly.
“It looks a lot like me.”
He set his surfboard down on the sand a few feet away and strolled over, moving like an animal stalking its prey, and lowered to the ground beside me. He was wearing a pair of white swim shorts, and his chest was bare, glistening with droplets of water. His hair was wet too, the strands pushed away from his face like he couldn’t stand to have it falling in his eyes.
“Just admit you’re obsessed with me; most people are.” He grinned as he sat down.
I rolled my eyes. “Does your ego have no depths?”
“None.” His smile grew bigger and he bumped his wet shoulder against mine. “Let me see.” He grabbed playfully for the sketchbook.
I watched him in awe. I still wasn’t used to that Liam, but something told me I was finally beginning to see the true him.
I clutched the sketchbook tighter. “No, it’s private.”
“Like a diary?” His brows furrowed, but he didn’t let go.
“Yes, like a diary.”
“All the more reason to let me see.” He winked, and with one yank pulled the sketchbook from my arms.
“Liam,” I cried, jumping at him.
He fell back into the grass with me on top of him, and the sketchbook fell to the side.
“Easy, Tiger.”
I scurried off his chest—totally not paying any attention at all to how my hands felt gliding down his abs—and grabbed the sketchbook, hiding it behind my back.
“Thank you for getting this for me, but I don’t want you to see.”
He grinned impishly, looking boyish and young. “You’ve already filled it with pictures of me. I know it.”
I growled and whipped the sketchbook from behind my back, smacking him in the head with it.
He busted out into laughter.
He raised his hands in surrender. “Fine, I won’t look.”
I narrowed my eyes on him, not believing that for one second. I’d have to find a good hiding spot for it when I was gone.
Liam drew his knees up to his chest and draped his arms over his knees. Tilting his head toward me, his lips twisted into a half-smile. “Do I get another truth today?”
