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I saze flicked to et up and run like hell" His voice was gravelly

"But won’t he chase me?" We lay on our sides, two feet of carpet between us, neither ht Butprey Only a handful will go after you, if you run away screa"

"Ah"

He reached out, took my hand "I was supposed to show you your portrait, I think"

"So it won’t seeht me here under completely false pretenses?"

His eyes flared and ht "I do want you to see the charcoal, but I admit that was secondary to e just did Do you feel more confident now, that it’ll work?"

"Yes"

He leaned up on his elbow, closing the distance between us, pushing his hand intoit to cupyou here" Leaning down slowly, his lips met mine and the fire that had been eo flaue pressed inside, strokedhis head, heue and releasing it to pay attention to the upper His tongue ran over the sensitive space above asped

And then his hands started ainst his shoulder, both hands ski me closer until there was no space between us His lips continued toand sweet, and hit between his so that our legs were scissored together I leaned into hi ers splayed across my lower back

One of ainst his chest, fingering the front placket of his flannel shirt, covertly sliding buttons fro the variation between the smooth surface of the flannel and the bumpy texture of the thermal knit shirt beneath it Shirt unbuttoned, I peeled it aside and slid my hand beneath the therht and I pulled away to lean on my elbow and look down on him

"I want to see your tattoos"

"You do, huh?" His eyes burned into mine When I nodded, he withdrew his hand fro an eyebrow at me when he looked down on his unbuttoned shirt My face war the shirt and tossing it aside

Reaching behind his neck, he removed the white thermal the way boys do--pulled forward over the back of his head--unworried about ruined mascara, or blusher smeared on the fabric He dropped this shirt, inside out, on top of the flannel one, and lay back on the floor, offering himself up for my inspection

His skin was smented with definitions of muscle and ornamented with the two tattoos I’d seen in n on his left side, and four scripted lines on his right There was one other--a rose over his heart, the petals dark red, the dark green stens and patterns, thin and black like wrought iron

I ran ers over each one, but he didn’t turn and I couldn’t read the poe around his left side It looked like a love poem, and I was jealous of whoever inspired the sort of devotion he must have felt to make those words so permanent I wondered if the rose represented her as well, but I couldn’t ask

When ers trailed down his abdomen to the line of hair below his navel, he sat up "Your turn, I think"

Confused, I said, "I don’t have any tattoos"

"I figured as much" He stood and reached a hand down tonow?"

He was asking o to his bedroo smart, like Should I call you Lucas or Landon in bed? but I couldn’t e it I reached up and took his hand, and he pulledmy hand, he turned toward the bedrooht from the outer room illuminated the furniture and the wall adjacent to his bed, where at least twenty or thirty drawings were tacked up He switched on a lamp and I saw that the entire surface of the as covered in cork I wondered if he’d installed it, or if it was here, and when he went looking for a place to live, he knew immediately that this was meant to be his

The two uncorked walls were painted an earthy taupe, and his furniture was dark and not at all typical college-boy--from the queen-sized platform bed to the solid desk and hutch

I moved into the narrow space between his bed and the wall of drawings, searching for myself, but distracted by the others--renditions of familiar scenes like the don skyline, unfamiliar faces of children and old men, and a couple of Francis in repose

"These are a"

He cast the others He’d chosen to charcoal the one ofup at hiht side of the wall Seely, this display spot would indicate lower importance, but I was acutely aware of where it was located in relation to his bed--directly across from his pillow

Who wouldn’t want to wake up to this? he’d said