Adam stacked Reese’s comics and slid them into a bag. She’d be by today to pick them up, just like every week. He’d had sketches for her comic ready for her days ago, but he couldn’t make himself call. Something about needing her approval stopped him. He’d never drawn for anyone but himself, so he was irritated. The questions pounded at his brain for hours on end. What if she didn’t like them? What if she laughed? What if she decided this was a huge mistake? The last question was the toughest because he felt invested in this already.
He’d only done the first page of the story in panels because he had to convince Reese to write the origin story. That story would define everything else they did together.
To take his mind off Reese and their comic—when the hell had it become their comic?—he
