I Wish You All the Best(70)

“I mean you have to admit I make a good model.” He won’t stop staring at the picture. “I can’t wait to see the real thing. Is it going to be in the show?”

“I still don’t know if I’m doing it.”

“Oh, come on, Ben. You have to.”

“It’s just … I don’t know.”

“Are you scared people won’t like your work?” he asks.

“A little, I guess.” It just feels like I’m opening myself back up. I’ve never really felt that urge to share my art with people, at least people I’m not close with. It’s always been this private deal, something with myself and a select few.

“Ben.” I feel his hand again, right on top of mine. “I really think you should do it.”

“Easy for you to say.” The warmth of his skin spreads along mine. I swear, this dude’s like an electric blanket or something. “I want to do it,” I say.

“So you should.”

“I’m just scared.”

Nathan chuckles. “That’s probably a normal response. To be honest, if you totally expected everyone to love everything you make, you’d probably be some super pretentious art douche.”

“I’ll have to borrow your turtlenecks and hipster glasses.”

“Pssh. Like I’d ever give those up. You can have my coffee though.” He starts to laugh again. “Can’t believe I’m gonna be in an art show.” He finally hands my phone back to me.

“Might be,” I correct. “Sorry for not asking permission or anything.”

“Well, this is me giving my blessing for you to put it in the show.” He runs a hand along the top of his hair. “It’s fantastic. Thank you, Ben.”

“You’re welcome.” I’m trying not to blush, but I can feel my face going hot despite the chill of the air.

At first, I don’t even hear the car pulling into the driveway, but Nathan perks up, and there’s the distinct sound of car doors closing. “My parents are home.”

“Oh.” I glance around, as if they’d somehow magically appear on the roof.

“Do you want to meet them?”

I shrug. “I guess I don’t really have a choice, do I?”

Nathan stands up and peers over the edge of the roof into the backyard. “That’s a hefty drop, so … I’m thinking no.” Nathan offers me his hand again and helps me stand up. “They’re cool, I swear.”

“Okay.”

This isn’t really how I was planning on meeting Nathan’s parents. I’d imagined about a dozen different awkward encounters where I’d either call them by the wrong name, or not say my own right, or call them Mom and Dad by accident.

We walk back across the roof to his room. I almost fall again when I try to step through. At least this time the chances of falling tragically to my death are minimal. But Nathan catches me in his arms.

He’s really warm, and for a split second I can smell his sort of terrible cologne and his deodorant. I think that’s lime. It probably shouldn’t make for a good combination, but right now, it smells so good.

Oh, shit.

“Thank you.” I try to smile off everything and pull myself as far as I can.

“No problem.” He lets go of me slowly, his hands lingering just a little too long. No, wait. Stop, I’m being creepy again. “Hey, what if you stayed for dinner?”

“Um, sure. I don’t think Hannah would mind.”

“Nathan?” a voice shouts from below. “You home?”

“Yeah, be down in a second!” Nathan yells back, then he looks at me, holding out his hand. “Ready to go?”

I take it, slowly, and let him lead me out of the bedroom and down the stairs.





“So you’re Ben.” Nathan’s mother takes my hand, shaking it quickly. “I’m Joyce, and this is my husband, Robert. It’s nice to finally meet you. Nathan speaks very highly.” She winks, and I don’t know what that’s supposed to imply, but I don’t question it.

“He does?” I ask.

“Oh, here and there,” she says.

While he packs groceries into the refrigerator, Nathan’s dad says, “And every night at dinner, and before he goes to bed, and at breakfast.”

I turn to Nathan, who’s currently seated at the counter with his face buried in his hands, and God he’s so cute right now.

“I do not talk about him 24/7!” he argues.

“He’s right.” Mr. Allan folds up the leftover plastic bags and slips them into a small container under the sink. “He has to sleep sometime.”

“Oh, hardy har har.” Nathan rolls his eyes. Then he mouths Sorry. But I’m too busy laughing.

“So, Ben, did you want to join us for dinner?” Mrs. Allan asks.

“Um, sure,” I say. “If y’all don’t mind, that is.”

“Of course not!” Mrs. Allan leans against the counter. “We were just going to do pizza, if that’s okay with you? I’m too beat to cook tonight, work was a nightmare.”

I shrug. “I’m good with whatever.”

“Any dietary things I should know about? No meat, no cheese?”