Page 116 of One Good Puck
But then he looks up at me. His eyes are glassy. He blinks quickly, like he’s trying not to cry. And then he smiles.
“This is…” He shakes his head, like he can’t put what he’s feeling into words. “Abby, this is incredible. I just…I love it. So much.”
I smile, relieved and overjoyed all at once. “You do?”
“Yes.” He stares at it again. “You did this.”
I can’t help but smile.
“You are so talented, Abby.”
I shrug and shake my head, but he scoops my hand in his. “You are. This is beyond incredible. The colors, the brush strokes, the way you captured our exact expressions. I don’t have enough words to express how beautiful it is.”
He’s quiet for a long second as he glances down at our joined hands, then he looks up at me. “I know you said your dream was to go to art school, and I’m sorry you never got to go. But you are so skilled and talented on your own.”
“You really think so?”
He nods. “Without a doubt.”
I squeeze his hand in mine, heartened at the way he compliments me. I can tell he isn’t just saying it to be nice or polite. I can tell he means it.
“Have you ever thought about showcasing your artwork?” he asks.
I shake my head. “I don’t know if I’m good enough.”
He tilts his head at me. “You are absolutely good enough, Abby. More than good enough.”
My chest tingles at the conviction in his tone, at how much he believes in me.
“Please tell me this isn’t the only artwork you’ve done,” he says.
I bite back a smile and shake my head. “I’ve been drawing and painting a lot since you gifted me that oil pastel set. I’ve used almost all those canvas prints you gave me. And the stack of pastel paper too.”
The corner of his mouth hooks up, and he kisses my forehead. “I’ll have to get you more.”
“Gavin. You’re spoiling me.”
He quirks an eyebrow. “Exactly.”
My heart bounces around my chest at how amazing he is. He’s kinder and more thoughtful and romantic than any boyfriend I’ve ever had. And he’s amazing with Emma. I can tell just how much he cares about her.
Except he’s not your boyfriend, remember? He’s your friend who you hook up with sometimes. And someday you’re going to move out of his house, this whole setup will end, and you’ll go back to being friends and nothing more.
My stomach churns at the reality check I’ve given myself. And that’s when I realize that I hate the thought of Gavin as just my friend and roommate and hookup. He’s so much more than that to me.
I gaze at him, aching to tell him that. The words are sparking on my tongue. But I hold back.
We’ve only been more than friends for just a couple of months. I’ll probably freak him out if I tell him how I feel.
His mouth curves up in that gentle smile that makes my tummy flip every single time. He picks up the painting. “I’m going to put this in my office. Wanna come with me?”
“Yeah, of course.”
I follow him upstairs and watch as he hangs the painting on the wall of his office. I take in the brightness in his eyes as he looks at it. Then he pulls me into his arms andkisses me until I’m breathless and aching for more. And then he leads me to his bedroom and gives me exactly what I want.
The final buzzer sounds, signaling the end of the Bashers home game. The crowd cheers at the five-to-three victory they just pulled over Dallas.
I jump up and down, cheering along with the crowd.
