Page 63 of Taylor

That didn’t make any sense to him. “Says who?”

“Says society . . . says my mother.”

“Fuck ’em.”

“What?” She turned and moved to sit up, but he couldn’t stand for her entire body not to be touching him, so he tightened his grip, keeping her there next to him.

“You should be able to look how you want to look. Also, what were you doing at the game tonight? Were you doing something for Sasha?”

“Ummm... well... my mom kind of butted in, and I think I might be working for Sasha now. It all just kind of happened.”

He hmmm’ed while he took in that new information. Having her around the center would be nice. He saw how much Conner enjoyed having Sasha on the road with them while the other guys had to do long-distance stuff for half the season.

“Is that what you want to do?” he asked.

She gave a big sigh, and he used to pause in the conversation to really look around her room. This room looked like Alice’s. The bed had a hot pink bedspread and yellow sheets with flower pillows. There was a furry purple rug. Colorful scarves and necklaces hung off the mirror on her dresser. Not to mention the colorful clothes strewn all over the chair in the corner or piled on the floor. And on the walls were covered in artwork. There were drawings of her family, colorful abstracts, even a colorful fever dream revolving around pop star Liam James.

Stunned in silence at the arena, he had questioned whether he really knew who she was. Though, after seeing this room, he knew who she was, and the black-and-white version of her he’d seen at the arena wasn’t it.

“I mean... I can work for Sasha... I’ll just be editing and scheduling videos. She seems like she’ll be a pretty good boss.”

“But is it what you want to do?”

“What else am I supposed to do?” She shrugged.

“Did you do all this art?” he asked, gesturing around the room.

She nodded.

“You’re so talented. Do you want to do anything with art?”

“I’ve tried... but I’m not always great at the business part of things.”

He nodded along, listening, wheels in his brain turning as he took her in. They had only known each other for a short amount of time, but he was sure there was a way she could do it. She might just have to find workarounds for the parts she’s not so great at.

“Can I tell you a secret?” she asked.

“Of course.”

Shifting on the bed, she sat up. She reached for a marker and pulled his hand into lap and uncapped it. The cool tip traced his forearm as she wrote something. Popping the top of another into her mouth, she yanked the cap from the marker and squiggled.

The crease crinkling her brow made him smile.

Finally, she capped the markers and gave him his hand back.

He examined his arm, and written on his forearm wasI like youalong with a heart with an arrow through the middle.

“I have a secret for you, too,” he said as he picked a marker out of the pack by the side of her bed.

He sat up and took her arm and, on her forearm, wroteI like you tooin his neat block print.

“Hmmm,” she hummed. “Your secret’s safe with me.”

“Don’t keep it too safe. I want everyone to know,” he said. “Because—” He picked up a different color marker and wroteyou’re beautifulon her other arm.

She looked at her arm, and the glassy quality of her eyes wasn’t lost on him.

“I have another secret,” she said as she picked up another marker. She held his blank forearm while she wrote. This time,she took more time and used more colors. When she was done, she let go of his arm.

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