Free The Artist and Me by Hannah; Kay Page B

know how I like my burger?”
    I chuckled, leaning back against the truck and extending my legs beside hers. “I have my ways.”
    She quirked an eyebrow at me. “Randy?”
    I laughed, head lolling back against the truck and food bouncing just a bit on my lap. “Yep.”
    She laughed, a tinkling bell toll of a sound, gorgeous. It was light as air, a leaf falling through an autumn sky, a snowflake in winter, new growth of spring, a sprinkler left on in the summer heat. She reached into the box, biting the end off a fry and exhaling, eyes trained on the sky. “It is beautiful.” The sun was making its way across the sky, staining it pink, orange and red, contorting the blue in the distance. This image reflected in the water as we ate, silently admiring the beauty.
    “I told ya.” It wasn’t mocking, just a quiet echo across the water. It sounded like an affirmation of sorts, bouncing off the overhead trees and ripples on the creek—stirred by the wind. I finished my burger quickly enough and deposited the trash in the basket. She wasn’t far behind in doing the same.
    Our silence stretched comfortably across the creek to the line of trees where a couple of deer were wading along the shore. One of the deer’s necks craned down for a drink, while the other stood close at hand. When the first looked up, the second stepped closer. They were standing rather intimately, heads together. The second one glanced over at us almost protectively, like he would fend the pesky intruders off their forest frolic, before the first led him away.
    I refocused, turning my head to look at her. She was sitting beside me, still gazing out across the water. I wondered if she’d seen the deer or if she was merely mesmerized by the sunset or—more than that—what she was thinking about. Her braid was falling, leaving loose, golden red curls to one side of her face. Her eyes, her face looked different than it had before. It didn’t seem as happy, but it didn’t seem sad either.
    She sat up a little bit, sensing my gaze and meeting my eyes. She didn’t smile this time, instead readjusting her body so that she could lean her head against my shoulder, looping one of her arms through one of mine. It was an innocent gesture, but it set my whole body aflame. Her touch was that of a venomous snake minus the venom.
    My hand slowly curved up to link our fingers together—sparks through my fingertips, warmth in my palm. Then I noticed the first of the stars rising in the newly purple night sky.

Chapter Ten
     
     
     
    Julie
     
    “ Starlight, star bright. The first star I see tonight. Wish I may, wish I might… Have the wish I wish tonight. ” The rhythmic sound of words from my lips, a remembrance of the innocence of childhood.
    His eyes cast downward to capture mine in the moonlight. “What’re you wishing for?” It was hardly over a whisper, his dark gaze watching my face ever carefully.
    “A lot of things.” It was the simplest answer. My emotions were going viral. I liked this guy. I really did. Lucas was nice and nerdy and awkward and adorable and great. He made me feel alive and happy and noticed in a way that wasn’t creepy, like the Goodman twins, but there was that feeling again in the pit of my stomach. I could feel the tightening monster of doubt swirling. It was tearing me apart. Over all of it, though, I wished I had my mom. If Mom was here, maybe she’d tell me it was okay to feel the way I was feeling. Maybe she’d say they aren’t all bad and the bad stuff could be worth it.
    Things is, Mom and I never really talked about what happened with Dad. I pieced together what I thought happened. In fact, we’d never talked about love. I’ve never felt like this. I’ve never met a boy that made me feel this way. The extent of our ‘boy talk’ entailed us on the beach, discussing how hot the guy in the red swim trunks was and how great his abs were. Yes, my mom and I talked about that once—or twice. Or a lot, okay? Mom