SUMMER
Rhett was in dark pajama pants and a loose linen shirt that he had not buttoned. His dark curls were sleep-pushed. At a glance, he kind of reminded me of Christopher Briney.
His eyes were quiet on mine. The paint on his cuff was the same pale gold I had seen on him at the museum, three days ago, the streak I had not commented on because he never commented on it himself.
He held the box of chocolates out to me.
"You’re looking for these?" he said.
"I —" My voice was not entirely steady. "Yes. Thank you."
He looked at me. I looked at him.
His shirt was open at the chest. The lamp from the pantry caught the line of his sharp collarbone. And I’m sure it’s just the wine talking, but he looked… really handsome.
"Having fun at the sleepover, I take it?” He asked.
“Uh-huh.” I mumbl
