I Wish You All the Best(69)

“Oh, well.” Mom’s still all smiles. “We’ll talk soon, Ben.” I nod, and Mom looks back at Nathan. “It was so nice to meet you. I’m glad Ben’s found friends.”

“Nice to meet you too, ma’am.” Nathan holds the door open for me, and we race toward his car, not looking back.



“Roof?” Nathan asks. We’ve been sitting in his driveway for a while now, no music, no talking. He turned the car off at first, but after a few seconds of just sitting there, he rolled down the windows to let in the cool night air.

Eventually I glance over at him. “Sure.”

Ryder gives me a hug, and I rub him behind the ears, but I don’t have much in me now. It’s like I’m running on empty. I feel exhausted, even though all we did was talk.

Nathan opens the window and helps me out this time, taking my hand and pulling me through the gap. At least this time, with better-fitting pants, I don’t almost fall to my death.

It’s actually breezy for April, but the sun is shining, so it’s more than enough to keep warm.

“So,” Nathan says, making his way to our normal spot. “She seemed nice, your mom.”

“Hmm.” I sit down next to him. I’d be shocked, but that’s the normal reaction when it comes to Mom and Dad. They put on that mask for strangers or family friends. Slipping in a backhanded comment about me here or there.

“What did they say to you?” he asks.

“They wanted me to come home.” Even to me, my voice sounds empty.

“Wow.” Nathan runs a hand along the top of his hair. “That’s …”

“Yeah.”

“Fucked up.” Nathan pulls his knees in close.

I look down at his hand, settled so close to mine, and I can’t resist. My own hand settles around his. That warmth, it’s so much different from Mom’s. I want this kind. I feel like I need it. To ground me if nothing else. I feel the dry skin of his palm; and, still looking forward, Nathan wraps his fingers around mine. The rest of the skin I trace with my thumb is smooth, and for a half a second, I wonder if this is how he feels all over.

“Thank you, for going with me. I know it wasn’t really fair …”

“I didn’t mind,” he says.

“I don’t want you to have to be my protector. That’s not fair to you.”

He does that thing, that laugh that sort of sounds like a scoff. “You worry a lot.”

“And you’re a quick liar,” I say.

“When I saw that look on your face … When your mom realized you were with me.” He stops, like he’s trying to think of just the right words. “I knew that feeling.”

“Really?”

He nods. “That helplessness, right?”

“Thank you. I …” I start to say. It feels like a perfect moment. My second chance. I flubbed the night of the movie, but maybe now’s the time. Except I’m too much of a coward. “There’s something I need to show you.”

“Oh yeah?”

“It’s a painting,” I say, reaching into my pocket to grab my phone. “It’s, um … Well, it’s a bit weird.”

“You know you are really terrible at giving people bad news?” he says.

“Yeah. I mean, it’s not bad or anything.” I pull up the photo of the painting. “At least, I don’t think it is. But it’s your call to make. It’s a painting of you.”

Nathan pauses, glancing between me and the phone still in my hand. “You painted me?” he asks.

I nod.

“Please tell me you didn’t find a way to paint me nude.”

“What?” I sputter. “No!”

“Okay, because you’re great, Ben, but that may or may not be a deal breaker.”

“How would that not be a deal breaker?”

“Depends on how you capture my curves and finesse.” He winks at me.

I turn off my phone and slide it back into my pocket. “Okay, never mind. Let the suspense kill you.”

“No, wait.” He reaches for my hand again. “Come on, I was just teasing.”

I point a finger at him. “No jokes, okay?”

“I promise.” He sticks out his hand again. “Pinky promise.”

I grab my phone again, and the picture of the painting is the first thing that comes up. I brace myself and hand it over to him. He doesn’t react at first, then slowly but surely, his mouth spreads into that all-too-familiar grin that I think I’ve fallen in love with.

I never want him to stop smiling.

“Ben …” he starts, but his voice fades off again.

“It sort of happened, and I know it seems creepy or whatever, so if you want to hate me you can, but yeah. I just used a few of the selfies you took on my phone.” I’m talking so fast that it jumbles together, and I don’t think he really understands me. “I had to change some things, pull from other pictures.”

“Ben.” He grabs my arm, and that shuts me up. “I love it.”

“Really?”

“I’m so yellow.” He laughs. “It might be my favorite.”

“You’re just saying that because it’s your portrait.”