Page 17 of Always Love You More

He runs a hand through his hair, which I’m starting to notice seems to be his tick. “Guess I’m just used to it.”

I set my book back down, giving him my full attention.

“Do you read a lot?” he asks.

“You’re changing the subject.”

“So?”

I stub out my cigarette as he starts the process of rolling a joint. “Yeah, I do.”

“What kind of books do you like?”

“Whatever I can find.”

“But what’s your favorite?”

I motion to my book. “I like classics.”

He hums in agreement.

“Do you read?”

He scoffs.

“What—too cool?”

“No,” he says, shaking his head.

“So, what then?”

“Just don’t think I’ve ever read a book.”

I pull my head back. “Ever?”

“I mean, probably at some point. A picture book maybe when I was a kid.”

“You’re missing out.”

He looks up at me. “Then lend me your favorite, and I’ll read it.”

“Really?”

He watches me for a minute, but it doesn’t give me that skin crawling feeling I get when other boys stare. He looks at me like I’m a person, instead of just a pretty face he wants by his side. And I realize I like his eyes on me. That I want to keep them there.

Finally, he nods, the motion pulling me from my thoughts.

“Why?” I ask.

“You seem like you have good taste,” he answers. “And I want to see what your favorite is.”

I roll my lips to hide a smile. “Well, I’ll lend it to you when I get a copy.”

“You don’t have a copy of your favorite book?”

“I did,” I start. “It … um … it got lost.”

“Lost, huh?”