Page 80 of Stealing for Keeps
“Just taking a break.”
“We’ve been here for, like, thirty minutes.”
“You’re just painting. Andie has me moving stuff all around and building.”
“It was your idea.”
“Did you ever do theater?” I ask, opening my stance to watch the action onstage.
“No.” She shakes her head. “Well, outside the plays Andie used to make us put on when we were in junior high, but our audience was mostly our stuffed animals, and they let me be in charge of costumes.”
“Makes sense.”
She continues painting, and I just watch her unabashedly. I don’t get to do that a lot at school.
“Better pick up a paintbrush,” she says, breaking me from my trance. “Andie’s coming.”
No sooner than I’ve picked up a brush, I hear her friend.
“Is the balcony piece done?” Andie asks.
“Almost. Just giving Claire a hand.”
Andie smiles like she knows exactly why I’m over here. No use in trying to hide it. I like Claire, and I’ll take any opportunity I can to spend more time with her.
As soon as Andie leaves again, I take Claire’s free hand. She drops the brush into the paint tray, and I drag her with me off the stage to the side and behind a curtain.
“Where are we going?”
I don’t even know. I just want her alone and all to myself. Out of the corner of my eye, I spot a pile of costumes, and an idea forms.
“You were in charge of costumes, huh?” I head for them, still pulling her behind me. I pick up a wool jacket that looks like something my grandpa might have worn in the seventies. “Were they as good as this?”
The smile that breaks out on her face is magnetic.
“I think that’s actually from her dad’s closet,” she says, then reaches for a cowboy hat and sets it on top of my head.
I toss the jacket, then adjust the hat, pulling it low over my eyes and winking.
For her, I grab a gaudy necklace that is heavy and has big, fake jewels. Draping it around her neck, my fingers brush her collarbone.
She turns and lets me clasp it, then she swivels around. “How do I look?”
“Stunning,” I say without a second thought. My heart is beating faster than it did running field sprints at practice. We’re standing close. Her sweet cotton candy scent wraps around me.
Stepping forward, I lace my fingers through hers. Everynotion I’ve had about this being a bad idea is pushed away. It can’t be. This feels too good.
“Austin.” My name is barely a whisper.
“That’s a wrap!” The booming voice onstage jolts us apart.
“We should get back,” Claire says, turning away from me and taking off the necklace.
I drop the hat back on top of the pile, then we go to the front where we help them clear the stage, putting sets and props in the wings and tools where they belong.
“I guess this didn’t end up being much different than art class,” I say as I help her rinse out paintbrushes.
Claire lifts one shoulder and shrugs. Smiling, she says, “I still had fun.”
