“You’re too beautiful to be real,” he said suddenly, softly. With my ear pressed to his chest, I could feel the words, too. “There’s your compliment.” His fingers traced a very careful line then, slowly up my spine and back down, and in their wake, they left a trail of fire.
And I thought, in that moment, of the same picture drawn over and over until every single line was precise, and yet I still hadn’t rendered a perfect replica of him. “I drew pictures of you,” I told him, giving him this one small piece of myself. “In school.”
He didn’t speak. Just pulled me round and round in a small orbit.
I swallowed. “I was scared to forget you.”
The sound of his heart beating made me think of caves under leagues of sea. “I never had a hope in the world of forgetting you, Scurry girl.”
And I wo
