Page 208 of Hide and Keep

“Why not?”

We move to another wall.

“So there’s no reason at all for that specific kind?”

“Does there need to be?”

My gaze plummets to the floor. No, there doesn’t.

I hoped there was though. I hoped it was me, the girl in the cornstalks who left a big enough impression for him to want a reminder on his body for the rest of his life.

But that kiss—ourkiss—from Crue’s perspective could’ve meant something completely different than what it meant from mine.

It could’ve meant nothing to him. I could’ve meant nothing to him.

I probably did.

“Do you always have a reason for the stuff you draw?”

“Not always.” I shake my head. “But usually.”

The heat of Crue’s stare blasts the side of my face and I brace myself for what I know is coming next.

“What’s your reason for drawing me?”

Relocating my hands to behind my back, I twist my fingers together before saying, “I told you already.”

“You told me bullshit. You don’t spendthatmuch time drawing someone you look down on.”

“You do if you don’t know anyone else worth capturing.”

There’s a pregnant pause where I replay my words no less than two hundred times. Capturing? I sound like a psychopath.

“On paper,” I add in vain.

“What makes me worth drawing?”

I glance up at him.

“What doesn’t?”

Even though I know it’s coming, it still squeezes my heart to watch Crue tap one long finger to the scar under his eye.

I wait until my voice is clear to say, “You can place the same rose in front of a dozen artists and you’ll get a dozen variations. The colors will be different, the size, everything. Some will include thorns. Some won’t. Some will focus on every blemish because that’s reality. Nothing’s perfect. Some will only capture one or two because imperfections aren’t nearly as ugly as we assume our own are. Someone in there won’t even include a single flaw because all they see is a beautiful rose. The subject is the same, yet everybody’s perspective on it is vastly different.”

“You draw my scar. You see it.”

“I do.” I glance at the crescent scar before meeting the eyes above it. “But it’s not all I see when I look at you.” Because I do draw realistic, I do include it in my drawings, but that doesn’t make Crue any less beautiful to me.

“What else do you see when you look at me?”

My answer is immediate yet honest. “A misplaced time traveler.”

Crue frowns. “What makes you say that?”

“You don’t belong where you are.”

“Where do I belong?”

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