Page 28 of See You in Your Dreams

Warmth floods my chest as he fixes me with a grin.It’s the cat he’s excited about, I remind myself. I’m just the weird, grumpy kid from school he’s decided to befriend. Not that I’m complaining…at least, not anymore.

Dylan launches into an animated tirade about an argument he had with Cat in one of his classes. I listen with half an ear, nodding and mumbling along as he goes. Mostly, though, I’m paying attention tohim. To the way his eyes spark with excitement. How he gestures with his hands while he talks for emphasis. Being around Dylan is like walking next to a warm hug.

Heat creeps up the back of my neck at the image that conjures, and I shove it down. Dylan is just a friend, nothing more. That’s all he’ll ever be.

“Are you even listening to me?”

I glance over to find Dylan glaring at me, though I’ve spent enough time around him by now to spy his amusement lurking beneath the surface.

“Not really,” I shrug.

“Hey!” He bumps my shoulders with his, rustling both our backpacks. “You can at leastpretendto find me interesting.”

“I don’t need to pretend.” The words come out far too earnest, and I clear my throat, quickening my step to avoid having to look at his face. “Now, come on. You’ve only got an hour or so until you head to the vet, right?”

It takes me a couple seconds to realize Dylan is lagging behind. I pause, raising my eyebrow. “You okay?”

He grins, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “Yeah, sorry.” He catches up to me, and I resume walking at a slower pace. “I forgot I hadn’t told you yet. I spoke to Dr. Jenkins about cutting back my hours, so I’m not going in tonight.”

“But I thought you loved it there.”

The way he hunches his shoulders makes me feel like I said something wrong, though I’m not sure what. “I’ve got too much other stuff going on right now to make it a priority,” he says a touch defensively. “My grades are starting to slip. Plus, I was thinking I might pick up a couple extra shifts at the diner my mom works at since it pays better.” He shrugs. “Even if I don’t, Mom could use more help around the house. So…yeah.”

I don’t like his defeated slump or the way the perpetual light in his eyes has dimmed. It’s not my place to tell him how to spend his free time. Still…

“So long as you leave time for whatyouwant.” Dylan looks up sharply at me, and I add, “Though, I suppose less time at the vet means we can hang out more. I’m sure Onyx would appreciate the company.”

Dylan smiles softly at me. When I catch myself smiling back, I clear my throat and look away. I’ve never had a hard time keeping people at arm’s length before. It’s sort of my specialty, and I’ve had years of practice. But something about Dylan makes me want to let him in despite all my usual reservations.

Maybe being his friend is more dangerous than I thought.

We’re silent the rest of the short walk to my aunt’s. As soon as we’ve deposited our backpacks inside, Dylan is all over Onyx, plopping down on the floor next to her and assaulting her with snuggles. From the way she’s purring up a storm, she doesn’t mind.

I sit on the couch nearby and watch. It’s good to see Dylan back to his usual self. My fingers itch for my sketchpad and a pencil, but I wouldn’t dare draw him where he might see. WhenI’d shown him my sketch the other day, I’d been terrified he’d flip back through the book and see the embarrassing collection I’ve accumulated depictinghim.

As if he can read my train of thought, Dylan glances up at me from where he’s lying on his back, Onyx curled on his chest. “So, finished any of those sketches you’ve been working on?”

“Nah,” I say, settling back in the cushions. “I don’t know if I will.”

He frowns. “Why wouldn’t you? I wasn’t kidding when I said that tree was awesome.”

I shift, mildly discomfited by the praise. I don’t draw so others can admire my work. I do it to soothe the storm constantly threatening to overwhelm my mind.

“I rarely finish a drawing. It’s hard to get the final touches just right, and I’d rather leave it in incomplete perfection than finish it only to have it come out flawed.”

Onyx gives a mew of displeasure as Dylan sits up, displacing her. “But how will you get better if you don’t try?”

Annoyance flares through me. “Itryplenty—hence all my sketches. But not every drawing deserves to be finished. Some are too inherently flawed from the start to ever be whole.”

Like me.

I shove the uncomfortable thought aside. “Besides, it’s not like I never finishanyof them. I’ve got a few of my favorites up in my room.”

Shit.I regret the words as soon as they leave my lips, but it’s too late to take them back.

Dylan’s on his feet in an instant, practically vibrating with excitement. “Can I see?” I hesitate, and he groans. “Comeon, Ash! You can’t dangle something like that in front of me and then expect me to let it go. Now I’m dying to see what differentiates a finished sketch from an unfinished one.”

I’m not sure I could define that quality myself if I tried. It’s mostly a feeling I get while working on a piece—a sense ofrightness, that I’ve captured what I’m drawing the best I ever could. Still, it’s impossible to say no when Dylan’s looking at me with those puppy-dog eyes.