Page 91 of Tell Me It’s Right

Finally,finally, he leans forward and presses his lips to mine again. My eyes flutter shut, and I melt into it. Into him. I thought maybe after kissing the same person a few times, the novelty would wear off. That it would start to feel, well, as bland and normal as the other men I’d kissed. But with Liam…every gentle brush of his lips, every exhale, every trace of his tongue, threatens to make my knees buckle. I feel his mouth curl into a smile against mine before he pulls away.

“I would like to propose a contest,” he says.

My eyebrows fly up. “A contest?”

He hands me a plastic champagne flute and pops the cork, then juts his chin at the paints and canvases as he pours us each a glass. “I do your portrait, you do mine.”

“You want me to paintyou? That’s completely unfair. You’re an artist.”

“So are you.”

I scoff and grab a grape from the charcuterie board he positions between us. “I take pictures, not make them.”

He tsks and shakes his head. “Too afraid to lose to even try. I thought better of you. Really. Besides, I never draw people. I’m terrible at them. Believe me, it’s a level playing field.”

“You know what? Fine.” I snatch up the best-looking paintbrush. “How long do we get?”

He shrugs and nods at the setting sun. “Until we lose the light.”

We fall into silence as we set our stations up, the drinks and food nestled on a small tray between us. Liam chews on his lip as he looks from me to the canvas and sketches with a pencil. His hair falls into his eyes as he works, and even as he looks at me, I can’t tell he’s notlookingat me, looking at me. He’s completely consumed with the task at hand.

I swipe a few colors across mine with a large brush, then get to blending them. I stand no chance at making this realistic, but I might be able to semi-pull off something abstract. Hopefully I retained something from those required art classes in college.

I press my lips together as I take everything in. The sunset. The picnic. The art. The sign. The sea breeze full of the salty scent of home.

It’s cheesy, cliché, over-the-top, and nothing like Liam…but it’s everything that I love. And I don’t know why it comes as a surprise that he knows that.

I lean over and kiss him on the cheek.

He pauses with his paintbrush in the air.

I smile as he meets my eyes. “This was really sweet. Thank you.”

He drops his eyes for a moment. If I didn’t know him better, I’d swear he looked a little self-conscious. “I know it probably doesn’t compare to your books but?—”

“It’s better,” I say, meaning it. It’s everything I was beginning to think was never going to happen for me. Wasn’t sure if it wasreal.

Slowly, he narrows his eyes. “You’re trying to distract me.”

“You never said that was against the rules.”

His smile grows. “I clearly underestimated you.”

“Clearly.”

He leans in to kiss me, but I push myself back with a grin and return to my station. He grabs my leg before I can tuck it beneath me, then lays it over his thigh so my foot rests in his lap. He says nothing else as that concentrated look falls over his features, but he leaves his hand resting on my ankle, his thumb stroking back and forth.

And suddenly everything is quiet. It’s like every cell in my body was vibrating as fast as it could, static blasting in my ears, my skin hyperaware of every sensation around me to a nearly overwhelming degree—but when I feel his touch, everything juststops.

We stay like that until the last of the light drains from the sky.

“You’re such a liar,” I mumble.

Liam chuckles as he starts the truck and pulls out of the parking lot.

I squint and hold his painting up, inspecting it. Not only is the portrait of me detailed and proportionate andperfect, but he added the sunset and waves in the background too. It looks like it was professionally done.

His hand settles on my thigh as he turns onto the main road. “Yours turned out great too, what are you talking about?”

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