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As he picks up my sketch of burning orange sunset, a heartfelt smile appears on his face. At last, I scream on the inside and secretly wish for more.
“You’re really good,” he compliments, tone even.
“Thank you. But you need to leave, Brandon. My dad will be home soon.”
He puts the sketch down.
My eyes expand as he lowers onto my bed, relaxing his head on my pillow. “This is comfy.”
“What the...” I stagger closer. “You can’t lie on my bed.”
“It’s only for a sec.” He smirks. “Why so nervous? Am I the first guy in your room or something?”
“That’s none of your business.”
He flicks to my dresser, glimpsing the birth control that I left out.
Awkward, I quickly grab the pills and tuck them away in my drawer. Momma started me on them when I began dating my ex. The relationship never went that far, though.
Brandon lingers on my face, arousing emotions that are difficult to repress. Gosh, he’s so attractive.
A thought pops into my head that perhaps he doesn’t want to go home. He likes being in my presence. Maybe it’s the next best thing for him.
I’m so beyond curious about the way he detests human contact. “Um, when did—”
“Why did you apply for the scholarship?” he asks before I finish.
I free the tension in my shoulders and lower onto the chair. “For a better shot at Pratt. It’s an art school in—”
“I know where it is.” He steers his gaze away from me at last and looks at the ceiling.
“Why did you and Eric ambush Christian?” I dare to ask.
He smirks. “To defend my sister’s honor.”
“What did Christian do to Britney?”
“Used and dumped her. But it was pointless because Brit doesn’t even care.” Brandon eases up and sits at the side of the bed. He glances at my sketches on the nightstand, then looks around my room. “You don’t have an easel.”
“I did, but it broke. I mostly draw in a sketchbook, anyway.”
He wrinkles his brows. “Do you only do oil paintings in school?”
“Yeah.” Talking about art is always great, but somehow, with him, it feels better. “The class at Charleston will help me improve.”
“But?” he detects, angling his head.
“It’s costly. I’ll need to purchase supplies often.” Wait, why am I telling Brandon my business? His father backed my scholarship. The last thing I need is more pity from him.
“So? Your parents should buy your supplies.” Brandon says that in such a casual manner like it’s not a big deal.
I shake my head. “My parents already have a lot of expenses. I don’t want to burden them with more. Art isn’t cheap.”
Gaze still holding mine, he gradually nods in a way to let me know he understands.
A few seconds go by without us speaking, until he breaks the silence with, “Did anyone else bother you?”
Heath pops into my head, but I erase the asshole just as fast.
