Horror Picture Show at midnight at the historic theater downtown. You want to go?”
“Depends. Is this one of those showings where we get to throw stuff?”
I laughed at his reference to the wacky traditions that existed just for The Rocky Horror Picture Show. “Yeah, totally. I didn’t get any rice, but we can throw popcorn, and I got water guns for rain.”
Ace grinned. “Then I’m in.”
I glanced down at myself. “Uh, cool. Just let me change. This isn’t exactly ‘date’ attire.”
He smiled. “I don’t know. That T-shirt is pretty sweet. Haven’t you had that since you were, like, eight?”
“Fourteen,” I corrected him, “and it’s gotten a little tighter since then.”
His eyes dropped to my chest. “I can see that.”
Flushing, I turned toward my closet and pulled my shirt over my head. Snagging a long-sleeve green shirt from a hanger, I dragged it on, then layered on a hoodie because, let’s face it, it was my security blanket. After hurriedly changing from sweats to a pair of jeans, I turned to see Ace studying my art on the wall.
“You’ve seen it all before.”
He jumped, looking flustered. “What?”
“The drawings.” I gestured toward the wall. “You’ve seen them already.”
His eyes met mine, and there was something strangely serious about his tone when he said, “It doesn’t make them any less amazing.”
I smiled a little. “You’re going to make me blush.”
His smile spread as my cheeks heated. “That boat has sailed, my friend.”
My friend. I liked him calling me that. I knew Ace only hung out with me to appease my brother. But tonight, I wanted to imagine that Ace really did leave that party because he’d rather be with me.
His eyes lit on the two sketchpads sitting on my desk. “Oh, I’ve been meaning to ask to take a look.” He flipped open the old one, filled with drawings — including Naked Ace. My heart leaped into my throat, and I hurried toward him. “They’re just doodles. No big deal.”
“They’re not just doodles,” he argued, flipping the page. “Wow. You are just so fucking talented. I mean, I already knew…” He gestured toward the wall of art, then looked back down at the page. He was looking at a full-page illustration of a dragon with gold-plated armor, intricate scales covering its entire body, and deep, dark eyes. I was pretty damn proud of that drawing, but knowing what else was in that sketchbook, I couldn’t risk him flipping much further.
“Thanks,” I said, tugging the sketchbook from his fingers. I’d die of mortification if he found the drawing of himself. “But we should get going if we’re going to make the movie.”
Ace reluctantly released the sketchbook. “Okay, but I hope you’ll show me more some other time? Unless … you don’t want to?” He looked crestfallen. “You should choose what you want to share.”
I tilted my head, a little confused. “I’m an art student. I share my work with whole classrooms. I really don’t mind, but … another time?”
“Maybe after the movie?”
He seemed so earnest. My chest warmed. “Maybe, yeah.”
I’d have to figure out a way to remove the Naked Ace sketch without him seeing it or risk total humiliation, but I’d figure that out later. For now, I wanted this date. Jonas might be my secret admirer, perhaps even my future boyfriend. But right now, tonight, my crush was standing in my room, ready to take me on a date.
It might be pretend, but it was the closest I’d ever get to my ultimate fantasy with Ace. Maybe it was dumb, but I was going to make the most of it.
Benji
Just breathe, Benji, it’s not a real date. It’s just hanging out like we’ve done a bunch of times before. In fact, I should tell him this isn’t necessary because it’s not going to work if it doesn’t feel like a date—
Ace’s hand bumped mine, then folded around my fingers.
Oh. my. God. He was holding my hand!
“This okay?” he asked.
“Mm-hmm.” I nodded, trying to play it cool while my heart hammered my breastbone.
“Cool.” He adjusted our hands, twining our fingers together, then flashed me a smile. “We’re a good fit.”
Was I even awake right now? Maybe I’d hit my head and was slowly dying. “You’re not worried someone will see?”
We were on a public street, headed toward the same historic theater — The Monarch — where Kaleb had stood me up. Irony of ironies. At least there was no way Ace would bail. He wasn’t the type, and even if he were, our