Page 19 of A Series of Rooms
“Black is fine.”
Liam made a face out of his view and went about making the drinks in comfortable silence; one black, and one with as many sugar packets as Liam could discreetly dump into a cup without judgment or permanent organ damage.
When he carried them back to the window, Jonah took his gratefully, cupping it between his palms with another sincere “thank you.”
“Mind if I join you?” Liam asked.
Jonah pulled his knees a little tighter to himself in invitation, even though there was plenty of room. Liam settled into his place across from him, resting his back againstthe opposite side of the window frame. He stared out, following Jonah’s gaze. It wasn’t as nice as the view from the hotel Nathan’s dad had paid for, but there was a smattering of buildings with windows glowing against the night, and a sliver of the crescent moon was visible between two of them, so it wasn’t a total bust. He tilted his head, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.
“Some light reading?” he asked, gesturing to the book in his lap. “Jonah and the whale, right?”
Jonah ducked his head. “It’s been a while since I’ve read it,” he said, fanning through the pages with his thumb.
“The whole thing?” Liam asked. “Like front to back?”
He nodded. “It was a requirement.”
“At your church?”
“In my home.”
With every crumb of information that he was given about Jonah’s life, another chasm of questions opened up. Liam found himself wanting to know everything but afraid to push him too hard, considering the last issue he’d pushed had almost resulted in Jonah bolting from the room before the night could begin.
“Did you grow up around here?” he asked, settling for something more neutral.
Jonah shook his head. “What about you?” he asked instead of elaborating.
“Kind of,” Liam said. “Everyone who grew up in the northern suburbs of Illinois likes to claim they’re fromChicago. It sounds way cooler than saying you’re from Naperville.”
He expected the conversation to lapse into another silence, which would have been fair, considering rural Illinois was hardly a jumping-off place for riveting conversation, but Jonah seemed genuinely interested.
“Did you like it?” he asked. “Or, do you still, I guess?”
Liam rested his head against the window. “It could have been worse. I’m close enough to the city to be on the fringe of having a life. I can commute in every once in a while to audit an art class, or see exhibits when they pop up.”
Jonah perked up. “You’re an artist?”
“That might be overstating things.” Liam chuckled, suddenly self-conscious. “I mess around with a few things. I mostly draw. I paint sometimes, but I need to get better. I take what few art electives my college offers.”
“College?”
“Community college,” he said, unable to hear the words without the elitist sneer of Nathan and his parents when they’d found out about Liam’s plans after high school. “I’d like to save up enough to transfer somewhere with a good art program. New York is the dream, but that is probably all it will ever be.”
“Why?”
It didn’t escape him that Jonah was keeping all of the attention on Liam with his questions, but he humored him with a sardonic smile.
“The good ones are expensive,” he said. “The diner I work at pays decent, but notthatdecent. And my parents aren’t willing to shell out money for an art degree, but they make too much for me to qualify for much financial aid. It’s...” The words died on his tongue as he glanced up at Jonah and realized, horrified, how privileged he must sound. Complaining about going to community college and whining about how his parents made too much money.
Several iterations of an uncomfortable apology tangled in his mouth, but Jonah spoke before he could get any of them out.
“Will you draw me something?”
Liam blinked at him. Personal experience and a lifetime of poor self-esteem made him assume Jonah was joking. He gave an obliging smile, but when Jonah didn’t laugh it off, Liam asked, “You really want me to?”
“Only if you want.”
He glanced at his duffle. “I didn’t bring my stuff,” he said, still half-certain it was a joke. “I usually have my sketchbook with me.”
