Текст книги "The Weight of Rain"

Автор книги: Mariah Dietz

сообщить о нарушении

Текущая страница: 13 (всего у книги 23 страниц)

“Hey!”

I turn, hearing the greeting and find Isabelle at the door with a bag slung over her shoulder. It’s too big to be a school bag or purse.

“Hey, Isabelle!” Mercedes calls out. Her excitement for seeing Isabelle makes guilt swim thickly through my distaste for her.

Isabelle’s smile is a mixture of nerves and excitement as she steps inside, and while I know King has feelings for me, watching her actions makes me aware of how much she likes him and drowns the guilt with jealousy.

King steps forward, his chest meeting my back. His hand loosely clasps my left shoulder. “What’s up, Izz?”

“I heard you were heading to Seattle tomorrow so I came by to see if I could bum a ride. A friend drove me down a couple of days ago but came down with the flu, and I’m worried about riding with her. Getting sick right now would really suck with classes.”

I listen to the steady clicks of Mercedes’ pedaling, the intakes of King’s breaths, and feel the slight pressure as his fingers squeeze me closer to him so that as he starts to tell her he can if she’s willing to get up early, I can feel the reverberations of his voice. Like everything about King, I feel it in every single cell, all the way to my toes. I want him to speak again, let me experience the sensation once more, and then Isabelle laughs and expresses a genuine appreciation that tears my attention to her. I tell myself to smile three times before my lips finally listen.

“STAND UP straight. You have all of this beautiful height and long neck, and you stand there slouching like a tortured tortoise.”

I purse my lips so tightly I’m sure it looks like a pucker as I force my spine into a rod and push my shoulders back. I don’t care for most of my own professors, but having to deal with someone else’s, who constantly ridicules all of the volunteer models in the class, is becoming my greatest challenge.

Allie gingerly pats my forearm. “Sorry. I think she’s getting a little stressed out about things.” I cock and eyebrow to ask if that’s an excuse for her always acting like such a bitch, and Allie presses her lip together, one side going up in a hopeful expression. It forces my thoughts of her professor, and the sharp prick of a pin that she apologizes for sticking me with, to subside because it reminds me of King. I didn’t see him as I left today because he was in the office with the door closed, talking to someone about the weekend. I had wanted to wait until he was done so we could sneak in another make-out session, but I was already pressed for time and after missing the last two modeling practices, I had to leave. My thoughts of regret wander to King riding in a car with Isabelle for three hours tomorrow. Both thoughts make my muscles contract, bringing me to stand a little taller.

“You okay?” Allie asks, her light eyes moving between the bead she’s replacing and my face.

“I’m fine.”

“Want to hang out Sunday? Maybe go see a movie at the discount theater? We haven’t done that in months.”

“You and Charleigh aren’t doing your Sunday DVR marathon?”

She shakes her head, and I notice the edges of her lips press into a frown as she completes another knot in the tiny thread. “She has plans with that guy again—Brandon.”

“That’s his name?” Allie nods, her focus moving to the dress. “She must really like him.” I watch as she processes my words. I’m sure my face has looked similar to hers now since earlier when Isabelle showed up. Tight lips and eyes: it’s envy, tinged with loneliness.

“He’s not at all what I expected him to look like.”

“What does he look like?” I ask, straightening my shoulders as I catch the glare of her professor once again.

“Short and kind of scrawny,” Allie explains. “He’s got great hair and dresses well, but he kind of looks like he’s sixteen.”

My laughter makes her smile before she disappears behind me to inspect any additional missing beads or flaws. “Apparently he’s not so scrawny in bed though, if you know what I mean. Apparently he was a virgin and is a very quick learner.”

“A virgin?” My eyes are wide with disbelief.

“I know, right?”

“He isn’t sixteen, right?”

“I went to a club with them, and the bouncer like quadruple-checked his ID, but apparently it was legit.”

“Well, it’s good that she’s happy.” I scan the room as I try to remind both of us of this fact.

“Yeah, but she dropped out of the show because of him.”

“What?” The shock in my voice has several people turning to look at us. I think even my arms are flushing as I try to smile an apology to everyone.

“Yeah, she said she’d rather spend her time with him than doing this right now.”

“But we’re seniors. This is her last chance.”

“She can try to get other internships, but it will definitely eliminate several opportunities.” Allie’s voice is forlorn, much like her expression, as she comes back around to my front.

“I can’t believe she’s willing to give up all of this after only knowing the guy for a couple of weeks.”

“I know. But don’t tell her that. If you do, she’ll pretend you don’t exist. I know from experience.”

“Lame.”

Allie looks back to me, her eyes crinkled with a smile. “You’re so good with words, Lo.” The air seems to lighten as we quietly laugh, adding another plank to our bridge of friendship.

When our dress rehearsal is over, Allie drags me to pick out two pairs of heels that, even with my many objections, she insists on paying for with the reasoning that I’m only getting them for the show. Before we leave, she lays on a thick layer of guilt that has me agreeing to wear one of the pairs home and promising to continue wearing them for the next two weeks.

My objections are drowned as we share a late dinner of enchiladas and margaritas, and then Allie watches as I paint until hours after the restaurant closes. Unlike many others, she barely speaks while I work, and when she does, it’s never in reference to what I’m making, simply discussing plans, or stories about school, friends, and at times her family.

It’s two in the morning when we say good-bye and I close the door to my apartment, noticing Kenzie alone in her bed sleeping. I peel off the heels that are already making my toes cramp and ache, and the rest of my clothes, replacing them with my skiing candy piece pajamas and an old sweatshirt. Neither my muscles nor mind is tired. I want to sit at my easel and sketch to see if I can capture the look on King’s face from Monday before he kissed me.

A flashing light in my messenger bag distracts me, and I fish out my phone and take a seat on my bed as I swipe it on. Twenty texts and seven missed calls. My eyes widen, and I find seven messages and two calls are from King.

I roll onto my back, feeling the stretch of my cheeks as I open my missed messages.

King: I’m sorry I missed U. I didn’t realize that call would take so damn long.

 

King: I know UR at model practice, but call me when UR done.

 

King: What do U do at model practice? Will U show me?

 

King: I’m not being a perv.

 

King: Okay … maybe a little.

 

King: R U okay? It’s late.

 

King: Sorry to sound like a stalker, but where in the hell R U? R U OK?

I thumb through messages from Mercedes, Kash, one from Kenzie even, asking me if I’m okay, that end shortly after ten, around the time we got to the restaurant.

I hit reply to King and quickly type out an apology.

I’m surprised when my phone indicates a new message within less than a minute.

King: Do you always go off the grid when you work?

 

Me: Usually, sorry again.

 

King: Don’t apologize. Just something for me to be aware of.

 

King: Can you stay up for ten more minutes?

 

Me: Yes … why?

 

King: I’m coming over.

 

Me: It’s 2 AM!

 

King: Yup

 

Me: You’re supposed to leave for Seattle in 4 hours!

I impatiently wait for a response, hoping he’s fallen asleep, and even more so that he’s ignoring my protests because he’s driving. I quickly change back into my clothes on the off chance he’s really coming and sit at my easel, only illuminating the space with my small but bright lamp that’s clamped to the top. I’m too excited to draw, but I sift through several pages, looking for the ones that most closely resemble the passion I saw on King’s face before he kissed me.

A soft knock against my apartment door sets my heart into overdrive. It’s been fifteen minutes, just long enough for me to confirm that it’s him.

He’s smiling as the door swings open, bringing a gust of chilled air and the scent of rain and King into the apartment.

“You’re going to regret staying up so late in a few hours.” His eyes are easier to see with his hat missing. The fact his flannel shirt is buttoned confirms he’s been dressed all night. King’s lips part, and the look I was just seconds ago searching for in my work makes my entire body swim with a desire and excitement that builds as his hand hooks around my hip and pulls me closer to him.

“Not even a little.” His words are spoken with my eyes closed and chin tilted upward in anticipation, his bottom lip grazing mine with the slight movement, sending a chill through me. I wish I could capture this feeling with my drawing. The anticipation that makes me feel like I am going to separate into a million tiny pieces and float adrift because King breaks all rules about rational thoughts and convention.

My bottom lip is pulled between his as the hand behind my back pulls me farther forward. And just like that, I am a million floating pieces, wrapping around this kiss that is so unbearably perfect, it doesn’t seem possible. My lips press more firmly against his, my hands digging into the fabric of his T-shirt after bypassing his outer layer of flannel. My chest is firmly planted against King’s and I’m not even sure if it was me pulling or him tugging that brought us this close. All I do know is it isn’t close enough.

My fingers braid themselves into the short wavy curls at the back of his head in an attempt to draw him nearer. I swallow his groan and feel the doorjamb against my back as his body settles more firmly against mine, his hips aligning with mine, making me wish there weren’t two layers of denim between us.

His lips slow, the hunger receding. King plants a soft kiss to my upper and then lower lip, and pulls back.

“I’m going to be thinking about nothing but that kiss in a few hours.”

I want to plead with him to ignore my roommate and come in. Strip off his clothes and properly study every single detail and nuance that makes up King, and then verify that sex with him is like nothing else because there’s something about him that just fits every single part of me.

His nose skims mine and then he softly drops a kiss there as well. “I don’t want to annoy the hell out of you or think something has happened, so just shoot me a text tomorrow when you start working so I know to leave you alone. I won’t be home until late Sunday, but I’ll call.”

I nod, gripping his loose hand with mine while his other presses firmly into the skin above my hip. “I’d like to hear from you.” The words are nearly casual, but the plea behind my tone makes it sound like a supplication.

King smiles, and squeezes more firmly against my flesh, making the thoughts of asking him to come in to return.

“Don’t worry about Isabelle. Nothing will happen, I swear.”

I’m grateful for the dim lighting on the landing because I know without a doubt how red my cheeks are stained as I nod and try to act confident.

“Lo, look at me.”

My eyes take the long way to meet his, searching over our tangled fingers, his shirt, the night air, and then him.

“I need you to trust me. I travel a ton, and if you are going to be second-guessing my intentions, we aren’t going to see what this really is.”

“She likes you.”

“It doesn’t matter, Lo. Nothing matters but how I feel about you, and what you feel for me.” His eyes bore into mine. “The rest is inconsequential. She knows I don’t like her, and I’ve already told her I’m seeing you. She won’t press things.”

“It’s just weird.”

King nods, his lips pursing with understanding. “I shouldn’t have agreed without speaking to you first. I’ve just known her forever. I swear, nothing has ever happened between us, and it never will. I don’t have any feelings for Isabelle. I haven’t felt anything toward anyone else since September when you finally stopped ignoring my stare and shook your head with that tiny smile that told me I had a chance.”

“It’s only because I had been drinking. If I had been sober, I would have looked away so fast I would have had whiplash.”

“I specifically recall you saying you were going to struggle being able to see another person after that night.”

“I did. I do. I think I have four notebooks filled with you. I would have looked away because you’re … gorgeous.”

“Don’t hate me, but I’m going to have to remind you of this in the future. I want you to be prepared.”

“I’m serious.”

“So am I,” King says, releasing my hand and gripping my other hip as he laughs. “Lo, you’re beyond beautiful, and the more I see you, the deeper that beauty grows because it’s not just your face, it’s you. We have something, and I am blissed out to see where it leads. Just trust me, okay?”

“Alright.”

His lips press against mine in a brief kiss that he breaks with a smile. “You really filled four notebooks with me? I must be hot.”

“Go home!” I cry, shoving his shoulder and taking a step backward.

He catches my hand before it falls to my side and tugs me forward, his playful smile growing. “We’re going to have really hot make-up sex one day when I get your panties all tied up in a knot like this.”

“Don’t count on it. Plan to make up for it with gummy bears and new charcoals.”

“I can do that too.” He kisses me again, the edge of the hunger returning in a much smaller degree that poses as a challenge, one I want to meet. Before I can, he pulls away. “I don’t want to wake her up,” King says, looking over my shoulder at Kenzie’s bed. “Get some sleep and text me tomorrow.”

“I thought you were calling me.”

“I am.” King moves his left hand from my hip and coasts it along my jaw. “Don’t look at me like that. For six months I’ve wanted to see your name light up across my screen multiple times a day. Granted, there are many other things I’ve been wishing to see as well … but we’ll address those hopefully in the near future.” His eyebrows do one quick dance to ensure I catch his intent that has me laughing.

“Thanks for coming.”

“If you need anything while I’m gone—”

“I won’t. I swear I’m capable.”

His eyes tell me he wants to argue with me, but he obliges and gives me one last lingering kiss. “I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

I TRY to ignore my phone to see if King texts me as I sit in the theater. I’ve carefully propped it in my bag so I can see if the little light goes off, alerting me to a message, but Allie spent the drive here and previews explaining to me how she’s felt ignored and forgotten since Charleigh began dating Brandon. I hate that I understand both of their sides so intimately.

King knows I’m here and I doubt that I’ll hear from him because yesterday when I told him I was going to be working on my portfolio, he didn’t say anything but to enjoy and to send him a few pictures of my work afterward so he could share them. He remained silent for the four hours I worked, creating a picture of his face that I was only able to capture the slightest hint of the lust and longing his eyes had exposed. When I sent him a picture of it, he called within seconds and much to my surprise, we talked for hours. He explained that his meeting had been rescheduled for the next day due to a partner having a family emergency, and that he’d spent the afternoon wandering through Pike’s Place Market, comparing my artwork to others who set up small kiosks and stands where people could have their face drawn for a small fee. We talked about my submission for Italy, and the heels I promised to wear for the next two weeks, into a slightly more substantial discussion about my design for the shop. There were durations of silence we shared as we sought new topics, but neither of us seemed willing to end the conversation. It didn’t matter that we had nothing to share, or that the footing was slightly uncomfortable, sharing our silence was more than enough.

This morning he called after hitting the hotel’s gym, something that is as foreign as Mars for me. Vacation has never equated a workout in my book. We were more flirtatious this morning, our comments daring to cross back over that slight barrier we’ve built up over the past six months until they were nearly forgotten.

I feel like I can’t focus on a single thing other than him. Like every minute detail reminds me of him. I want to tell him about everything I’m seeing and doing. The buzz of anticipation of seeing King tomorrow has my muscles tight and my steps giddy. My chest feels tight with the expansion of swarming thoughts and thrills running through my imagination. New pictures of King are being painted and sketched at nearly every second. And I love every single bit of what I’m feeling.

“Looo.”

I turn in my seat and blink several times to focus on Allie beside me. “Sorry, I’m in creative land.”

“No, you’re in King-dom.” Allie sits back in her seat, her eyes reflecting a sad smile.

“I’m sorry. I swear, I’m having a good time. I want to be here with you.”

“I’m not comparing what you’re experiencing to Charleigh. She just met this guy; you’ve known King for months. Plus she and I have been best friends since freshman year.”

I know she’s justifying her thoughts verbally and that it shouldn’t hurt that she’s said what I’ve already known. But a piece of me envies their relationship. I wish I had someone I could share everything that I’m feeling about King with. “You should tell Charleigh how you’re feeling. I’m sure she’s just caught up in that haze that makes us all a little crazy at the beginning. I know I’m lost in that same fog.”

“But you aren’t giving everything up for him, and you actually know him!” The theater is emptying around us for the intermission between films, and while my mind is itching to see if I’ve heard anything from King, my eyes keep hers, seeing the pain this is inflicting upon her. “Plus, King’s hot. Anyone would be lost in a fog with him.”

“I think King could be scrawny and look sixteen and I’d probably be just as lost.”

“You haven’t seen Brandon, Lo. I’m not kidding when I tell you he looks young.”

“I believe you. I just know that what I feel for King is so much more than physical, I don’t think it would matter.”

She huffs out a reply that tells me she wasn’t looking for anything more than someone to listen to her woes, which makes me feel guilty because I understand that yearning. We don’t always need someone to put things back together for us. Sometimes we just need someone to try to understand our pains and frustrations and validate that what we’re feeling is okay.

“I’m sorry,” I say, reaching across the double armrest and placing my hand on hers. “You’re right. She’s gone to some pretty hefty extremes, and your concern for her and her future is completely justified. You guys are best friends, and while she has a shiny new toy that is fun to play with, she shouldn’t abandon everything else.”

“Exactly!” Allie cries. “What if they break up in a month? What is she going to do? Even if it’s in a year or ten years, she’s still missed this opportunity to follow her dreams.”

I don’t allow the rebuttals in my head to become clear. I simply nod in agreement and settle back into my seat as the next movie’s previews begin.

After the second movie, I take a little extra time in the restroom to check my phone for any missed calls or texts. There aren’t any, and it makes Allie’s previous sentiments more understandable.

I DON’T take the time to see who’s calling before I answer. It’s late, and though I’m not sure if Kenzie is home tonight, I feel bad that my phone likely just woke her. “Hello?”

“Are you okay?”

I scrunch my eyes and blink several times before narrowing them and focusing on the alarm clock that’s too bright to clearly view.

“Lo?” The concern in his voice is heightened.

“I’m fine, just sleeping. What’s wrong?” My groggy thoughts are beginning to shift at a quicker speed, traveling directly to Mercedes.

“You said you were going to let me know when you got home.”

I look over to Kenzie’s side of the room as I sit up further and see her bed is vacant. “Sorry, I was hanging out with Allie and then got some work done with my portfolio and just lost track of time.” I’m lying through my teeth. After the third movie with Allie, we did spend some more time together, but my phone was set to the loudest ringtone, and then I went up to my apartment where I attempted to work as the phone stared at me.

At one point I got so desperate I went back downstairs and asked Allie to text me to ensure my phone was actually working—it was. I spent another couple of hours mindlessly flipping through channels until I gave up and went to bed.

“Lo.” My name is spoken quiet and deep: a warning. “I’m twenty-seven. I’m not going to play bullshit games with you. I’ll respect the time you want and need to spend by yourself, but I’m not going to call and text so you know that I’m sitting around twiddling my thumbs and waiting for you. We have a lot to still learn about each other, and while I know you’re not into mind games, you seem to be playing one hell of a mind game with yourself right now, and unfortunately you’re dragging me into it. I will always be honest with you. I won’t take advantage of you, but I need your trust, and I need you to stop trying to set me up to fail. If you tell me you’re going to call me, call.”

My earlier convictions are a cold sweat, drying to my skin and making me feel dirty and contrite. “I’m sorry. I … I’m not used to this.”

“I think I’m realizing there’s a lot you aren’t used to.” His words have so many plausible meanings that I clench my teeth as my temper rises. “I have to stay another day. There’s a store here Kash wants me to check out, and the owner can’t make it in until after they close.”

“Oh.” My tone and heart turn poignant.

“I’ll be in on Tuesday, though. I want to spend some time with you. I know we’re going out Saturday, but stay late a couple of days this week. We’ll watch a movie or something. I really don’t care. I just want us to get past these last few months where we’ve been working to build up these defense walls, and remind each other who we really are. I know I keep saying this, but we have something, Lo, and I know you feel it.”

“I’ll burn some popcorn.”

His laugh unwinds my muscles in a quick sequence. “I’ll take care of the food. You just need to worry about letting your guard down, because whether by permission or defeat, I’m getting through.”

My thoughts are a jumbled mess, causing a stretch of silence far less comfortable than ones previous.

“Goodnight, Lo. Sweet dreams. Call me tomorrow when you have some free time. I don’t care if it’s when you wake up or on your way to school or on your way to the house. Don’t overthink it, just do it.”

“You can’t tell you grew up with the Nike headquarters in the same city.”

King releases a sigh that is tainted with a laugh he’s trying to conceal. “Goodnight, beautiful.”

“I’ll call you tomorrow.”

“Don’t talk yourself out of it.”

“Just do it.” I hear his heavy release of breath and can picture him shaking his head.

We sit in another silence. This time, the familiarity returns along with a giddy anticipation. I can sense his reluctance to hang up because I’m certain my own unwillingness to go is just as obvious.

“I want you to tell me about you. I wish I could be beside you and listen to your past.”

“There isn’t a lot to tell. What do you want to know?” I ask, sliding down in my bed, my feet greeting areas that have gone cold from my absence.

“Everything.”

With the weight of his single word, I know I’ve just crossed beyond my crush status into something far more intricate and deeper than I’ve allowed my thoughts to travel. My heart beats with an equal measure of fear and exhilaration.

“Sleep well, Lo. I hope you draw another thousand pictures of me in your dreams.”

“I draw much faster in my sleep than in real time. It will likely be a few thousand.”

“Good.”

“I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

“Bye, Lo.”

Several seconds later, I take a heavy breath and push end with the desire to call him right back dancing through my thoughts.

“LO!” ESTELLA cries as I enter the back of the restaurant with my bag filled with paints and brushes. Her arms encircle me before wrapping around my shoulder and walking me over to where Mia is waiting for an order. “Are you hungry? We just pulled out some chile rellenos.”

“You know you can’t pay me anything when this is done, right? Because I think I’m going to owe you for all that you feed me.”

She laughs, patting my arm as she moves to the sink to wash her hands. “I’ll get you a plate!”

I’m filled with horchata—a sweetened rice milk flavored with cinnamon that I’ve been addicted to since I was first introduced to it when I started here nearly four years ago—and the mound of chile rellenos Estella dished up for me, and painting a flourish of colors to a wide expanse of the wall.

“I thought you were supposed to be wearing heels.”

Lowering my brush to my side, I turn to where King is sitting in a chair pulled up so he’s within just a few feet, a plate of chile rellenos resting in one of his hands.

“How long have you been here?”

King shrugs like the answer is trivial. “I understand why you never learned to cook. I don’t know if I’d have much interest in learning if I ate here every day, either.”

“It’s pretty amazing, right? How was your drive?”

“This might be one of the best things I’ve ever eaten. And thankfully, my drive was fast since that pain in my ass had to delay our meeting again.” He cuts off another bite and looks at me with his dark eyes looking tired but anxious. “How was your day? And where are the shoes?”

We talked twice on Monday, both times the conversation flowing with a level of intimacy that proved we had been watching and caring about each other far longer than a mere week. What King and I have built between us is a mutual respect and friendship that was somehow kindled when we both were working so hard at finding every excuse to not like the other, and continually came up short.

“I can’t wear them while I paint. Everything would be off.” King grins, expecting my answer. “Today was kind of rough. I think those kids have been teasing Mercedes again.”

“Those kids need their asses chewed.”

“That won’t stop them. Hatred doesn’t stop hatred.”

“Don’t tell me you want to deliver each of them a plate of cookies.” King’s tone is a bite in itself as he rests his fork on his plate, waiting for my answer.

“Of course not.” I stand straighter with indignation. “What happened to not acting like a jackass?”

He extends his arm to set his plate on a table in the corner and stands up. “Their words hurt her way more than falling off a bike.”

“I know.” My words are clipped with my annoyance for his previous comments, and now for insinuating I don’t know how hurt Mercedes is from these kids.

He sighs loudly, his finger and thumb going to the bridge of his nose. “I know you know. Maybe we should transfer her schools or something. I’ll talk to Kash about looking into it.”

I shrug, hating the idea.

Recognize the war of patience that I often find with Mercedes visible with his raised eyebrows and wide eyes, I’m prompted me to explain my reaction.

“I think people often have to experience something in order to understand it.” King’s eyebrows disappear under his ball cap with a silent I know! That’s what I’m saying! “But then you’re no better than they are. You don’t want to teach her to stoop to their level, and you certainly don’t want to teach her that there are appropriate times to do so, because that line will become fuzzier and fuzzier every time she feels threatened or insecure from someone else.”

“Then how in the hell are those kids ever going to experience it?”

“That’s not our lesson to teach. Our lesson is for Mercedes to feel comfortable and confident with who she is as a person.” King drops his gaze from mine and shakes his head, releasing a heavy sigh that is tangled with words of objection. “You aren’t going to be able to fight off every bully she encounters, King. She would never allow you to and you know that! Mercedes is as proud and independent as you are. She barely shares these situations now. We have to make sure that the bullies she faces are simply external and are never her own haunting thoughts.”

He shakes his head a few more times with one of his hands clasped to the back of his neck. “How do you propose we teach her how perfect she is?”

“Assurances like that, and one other idea I’m going to see if I can work out.”

Slowly, he lifts his eyes, narrowed with curiosity. Then slides his lips together, processing thoughts and stealing my attention. “This isn’t how I pictured tonight,” he admits, regret heavy on his words. “I’m sorry I distracted you. You were obviously feeling it.”

I shrug dismissively and shift to my right foot. My left ankle still isn’t fully recovered, even if I refrain from admitting it aloud. “She’s more important.”

“You’re important too. Your thoughts, your work, they all matter.”

I swipe my brush through a shade of turquoise I’ve created because the intense stare paired with his words prevents me from being able to hold his gaze.

“Lo.” King’s voice is a commanding plea to look back at him, one that seems far harder to oblige than it should. “You matter. You’re important, and not just to me.”

I swallow because I don’t have a reply. Have I ever felt like I’ve really mattered to someone, let alone be told in such a confirming way that I do? My eyes slide over his shoulder, my unease growing.

No, I haven’t.

I force my attention back on King and feign being comfortable with a smile. “Mercedes threatened me today that I have to start riding again or she’s going to start hiding my sketch pads at the house. I think her exact advice was: I need to grow some balls.”