Free Catching Raven by Lauren Smith

with Brandon
last week? Is it because I’m eighteen? Is it because we’re all alone? We’ve
been alone a bazillion times before, but it’s never felt so...acknowledged?
Maybe it’s because for the first time in four years, we’re both open to
blurring the lines. No more pretenses. No more hiding. No more friend zone. A
scenario I’ve fantasized about since freshman year. So why am I such a nervous
wreck? And why is he still looking at me like that? It’s distracting.
    I tap my nails against the counter and purse my lips. “What movie did you
say we’re watching again?”
    “We aren’t watching a movie.”
    My surprised eyes flick to his. “We aren’t?”
    “Nope. I owe you a belated birthday present.”
    My nerves dissipate. “Oh, my God! Where is it? Show me the package. Size
is important. I don’t care what the other girls say.”
    He closes the distance between us and takes my hand. “Follow me, smart
ass.”
    He leads me to the bedroom. I’m intrigued, to say the least. Eric’s not
one to get overly excited about anything, so this must be good.
    In the twelve steps it takes to go from the kitchen to his bedroom, my
heart rate has doubled. He reaches over to flip the lights on. A warm glow
casts over the room. A plastic tarp is spread out on the floor, protecting the
carpet. There’s an easel with a blank canvas staged in the center of the room.
I haven’t seen him whip out one of those since we were neighbors. We’ve
upgraded to painting walls since then. I’m sure you can imagine how ecstatic
his landlords get. To his credit, he always paints them back to white before he
switches places.
    “What’s up with the canvas? Are we kickin’ it old school?”
    “Not exactly.”
    My brows furrow in confusion.
    He rubs the back of his neck sheepishly and pins me with his stare. “I
want to paint a portrait of you.”
     Best. Present. Ever. “I’d be honored, Eric.”
    “There’s something else,” he says cautiously, studying my reaction.
“Promise me you’ll keep an open mind.”
    My breathing slows. “Why? What do you have in mind?”
    “You. Topless.”
    I blink a few times, processing his request.
    “You don’t have to if you don’t want to,” he assures. “But if you’re into
the idea, I’ll make sure everything’s covered. I have a certain pose that’ll
prevent anyone from seeing anything on the painting.”
    Sounds very Titanic-esque.
    “What’s the pose?”
    “You’d be standing with your back towards me, looking over your shoulder.
Only your back would be exposed.”
    I’d be way more exposed than that, but I don’t bother to correct him. Am
I comfortable with being partially nude? In front of him? He’s never seen that
much of me. No one has.
    “You’ve put a lot of thought into this.”
    His face goes serious. “You have no idea.”
    I bite my bottom lip and glance around the room. My eyes settle on the
window. I nod in its direction. “Will that be open?”
    “I’ll need to keep it open to air out the fumes but the blinds will be
closed.”
    Before I can list all the reasons why I shouldn’t do this, the more
daring side of me pipes up. “Alright, I’m down. But I have a couple
stipulations.”
    “Name them.”
    “The blinds stay closed, and your mouth stays shut. No exceptions. If I’m
gonna do this, I can’t have you making side comments and psyching me out.”
    He slips his hands into his front pockets and rocks back and forth on his
heels, struggling to contain his energy. “Deal. I’ll grab the brushes and paint
while you get situated. If you need to use the bathroom, now’s the time to do
it. I’m using spray paint and acrylics. The acrylics dry really fast, which
means no breaks. Holler when you’re ready.”
    He turns and exits the room, leaving me with some much-needed privacy and
a ton of information to digest. I crack the window open and draw the blinds.
Incessant pacing and nervous knuckle popping help kill the time. I can’t seem
to