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Jax yanked open the door, filling it with his linebacker-ish build. It cracked me up that such a big guy wasn’t on the football team. He played sports for fun, but his real passion was art. His parents were cool about it, encouraging him in whatever made him happy. It had been such a foreign concept when I’d first joined their household.
A frown marred his face, and he shoved a clump of auburn hair off his forehead. He looked like he’d come straight from the studio, in basketball shorts and a gray shirt splattered with paint. It was his usual outfit.
“Huh, finally decided to let me know you’re alive and actually a student here?”
Yep, he was still mad. “I’m sorry. I just needed to deal with it on my own.”
“That’s bullshit, and you know it.”
It was, but I was just as stubborn as he was. “Whatever.” I pulled the strap of my bag so it swung forward. “Do you have time to sketch? Maybe we could go outside.”
He crossed his arms, not budging.
“I brought sandwiches.”
That should do it. He was always hungry, and the fridge at the Childress’s house was jam-packed at all times. I could recall standing in front of it in shock the first time I’d opened it. When he looked to the ceiling then back again, I knew I had him, especially since the corner of his mouth twitched up just a little.
“So…?”
“Yeah, we can do that. But I’m not done being mad at you.” He stepped back so I could come in.
“Yes, you are.” I elbowed him in the side. He was a big softie. “I’m sorry I didn’t call you as soon as I got here and have you help me. I was just… I don’t know. In a mood.”
“When aren’t you?”
I grinned, happy we were back to teasing each other. I glanced around while he grabbed a blue backpack and added a few things from his desk. A framed picture held a collage of his parents and us from the summer vacation we’d taken the first year after I’d moved in with them. I’d never taken a vacation before that, and I’d loved every second of it with my new family. The rest of the room was typical Jaxon. The bed was made. No clothes littered the floor, and he even had an illegal candle on his desk. We were only allowed to have battery ones. A small fridge and band posters were mixed in with some of his artwork.
“How did you manage not to have a roommate?” I was kind of jealous.
“I asked if you wanted to room with me.”
I snorted. “And cramp your style? I’m not that mean. But also, the school wouldn’t have allowed it.”
“Funny, right? I’m the least of their concerns with a girl, yet they roomed me with a guy.” He winked. “You have to meet Max.”
“Who wasn’t your roommate. I bet you got a straight guy, so, what you’re hinting at doesn’t count.”
He grinned. “True that.”
“I look forward to meeting Max, though. Maybe we can get together on one of the weekends and, I don’t know, go bowling or something?”
It was one of the activities we did as a family at least twice a week. I’d gotten addicted to it. Mostly because Jaxon and I did everything we could to make the other mess up when it was our turn. I’d never thought having a brother could be so much fun. It helped with how much I missed Summer, which he probably knew. I was fortunate.
“I’ll talk to Max. Oh, and Winter…” He turned and looked at me with pure joy in his hazel eyes. “You’re gonna love him as much as I do.”
Everything in me softened and warmed. “If he’s good to you and makes you happy, I will.”
After he zipped his bag and slung it over his shoulder, we headed out. Most of the people we passed on his floor called a greeting to him, which he returned. I was used to it. That was how it had been in high school too. He was charismatic, steady, and kind. People gravitated toward him.
We went outside, walked a little, and found a great spot under a palm tree in the west courtyard, where it wasn’t overly busy. Jaxon pulled out a woven blanket he’d stuffed into his bag and spread it on the ground. I was grateful. Bugs and I didn’t get along.
I pulled out my sketchbook and charcoal pencils then paused. “Hey, do you have Professor Elian?”
“Nope.” Jaxon opened his large colored case I envied. It had over a hundred pencils in all shades. “I have Professor Potts. Why?”
“She’s kind of… distracted.” I couldn’t think of any other word that would describe the weird vibe I got from her.
“Potts is strict. Artists are spacey, which you should know. Maybe that’s why?”
