a jog.
I couldn’t just burst into Benji’s dorm and kiss him. I knew that. He’d been surprised enough I’d invited him to a party that he’d probably have a heart attack if he knew some of the things I thought about him. He saw me as his big brother’s best friend, nothing more. He struggled to even see me as a friend and not some kind of extension of his brother. But I’d still rather spend time with him than be here in a noisy room full of other people.
Benji
Saturday night, I was restless. Ace was at that frat party, and I could be there too, but instead I was alone in my dorm, bored out of my skull. Being an introvert sucked sometimes. The idea of a party sounded fun, but once I was there, I’d immediately want to leave. Instead, I lounged in sweats and a T-shirt, cued up some anime, and searched through my bag for my sketch pad. I had an art assignment due Monday, so I might as well work on it while I had some peace and quiet. Dre talked constantly when he was around, and if he wasn’t talking, he was listening to music or watching annoying video clips. It was like the guy had never heard of earbuds.
I dumped my books and notebooks onto my desk, then sorted through them to grab my sketchpad. I faltered when I saw there were two—same brand, same size. I’d been meaning to buy a new sketchbook — mine was nearly out of blank pages — but I hadn’t gotten around to it yet. But here one was.
I flipped it open, and another little card fluttered out.
Benji,
Edgar Degas said, art is not what you see, but what you make others see. Your art has made me see how beautiful you are, inside and out.
Your Secret Admirer
I gasped, hugging the notebook to my chest. My secret admirer was Jonas. Had to be. I’d shown him my sketches, and he’d seemed really into my art. The sketchbook and the note both pointed to someone who’d seen my art and appreciated it. The timing was more than a little coincidental.
Air pumping the sky in victory, I did a little dance. Finally, I had a fucking answer. And it was good news, wasn’t it? Jonas was cute with his floppy blond hair, light eyes, and easy smile. I’d decided the other night that I had to be mistaken. Secret admirers didn’t just ask for your number and flirt out in the open, did they? But it wasn’t like I knew him that well. Maybe he wasn’t sure how to approach me until I showed up at the frat house, or maybe he was just good at playing the role of outgoing frat boy, but inside he was really shy?
Who knew? The point was, I finally had an answer!
A knock at the door interrupted me mid-dance, and I froze. Jonas?
No. It wasn’t as if he’d appear just because I’d figured him out. Dre would just walk in if it was him, so it was probably one of his million friends looking to hang out. Dre talked to everyone he met, and he was always asking me to go out to see bands, but it felt too weird to take him up on the offer. He was probably only asking because I was always here, watching as he got ready to leave.
I opened the door, the easy dismissal drying up on my tongue when I saw Ace in the hallway. He stood in dark jeans and a navy-blue hoodie. How did he make a hoodie look hot? The guy had skills.
“Hey, I hope it’s okay I dropped by.”
I backed up to let him in, suddenly aware that I was wearing an old, threadbare Kansas City Chiefs T-shirt and baggy sweats.
Like he cares how you dress. Be real.
“What’s up?” I asked.
He shrugged, both hands stuffed in his jeans pockets, which only made his shoulders seem bigger. “I was thinking we could do that date we talked about. Just for, you know, practice or whatever.”
“Right now?”
“No time like the present.” He seemed to notice my attire. “Unless you’re in for the night?”
“I thought the frat was having a party?”
“I wasn’t feeling the party,” Ace said. “I made an appearance, but…” He ran a hand through his hair. “I should probably go. I didn’t mean to spring this on you at a bad time.”
“No, it’s cool,” I said. “There’s actually a showing of The Rocky