118

Jason told me Drake’s place was nowhere near our house, but ever since that day in the kitchen, Drake had walked me home every day from school.

“Thanks for walking me home again today,” I said as we strolled into our neighborhood, looking at our shadows on the pavement. The sun was setting with a dramatic filter of orange hitting our faces.

He smiled. “No problem.”

Drake Mallory was a gentleman. He would carry my books when we walked, and he listened diligently to anything I would say. He also smiled a lot and could laugh easily at simple things. We didn’t talk about anything very personal and only discussed important school activities… until the day he showed me his art.

“Alayna. I’m going to show you something.” He opened his backpack, drew out a black, thick sketchpad, and then flipped some pages before presenting it to me.

He showed me an etched drawing of a beautiful girl with her long fingers brushed on her hair and as though her charcoal eyes were looking straight at me.

“You c