Three days after the exhibition, I'm in my apartment working on a new piece when there's a knock at my door.
I'm not expecting anyone. Maya and Jess are both in class, and I haven't ordered food.
I wipe paint from my hands and pad to the door in my bare feet, still wearing the oversized shirt I slept in and a pair of leggings.
When I look through the peephole, my heart stops.
Zeke.
For a moment, I just stand there, frozen, my hand on the doorknob. He's wearing jeans and a dark green henley that I remember buying him sophomore year. His hair is longer than the last time I saw him, curling slightly at the ends. He looks good. Tired, but good.
He knocks again, and I hear his voice, muffled through the door. "Kota? I know you're probably home. Your car's in the lot."
I take a breath. Th
