work to do.” He grabs his suit jacket from the coatrack. “I love you both. Enjoy the showing.”
“We will.” My mom sighs before he strolls over, kisses her on the cheek and me on the forehead, and leaves. Once she hears the front door close, she leans over the couch. “See, told you it would be easy.”
Giggling, I shake my head and continue the sketch of Justin I was working on from earlier. The easy part is getting my parents to let him come over; the hard part is selling the idea that they can trust him when I’m still wondering if I can.
Chapter Six
With my face buried in my sketchbook, I enjoy the early morning breeze. I allow my hand to continue the drawing I was working on from the day before. This time, instead of aiming to get Justin’s face, I’m coloring in the orange on the juice container.
“That him?” My mother plops down beside me in the wicker patio chair.
Innocently, I answer, “Yeah.”
“He’s cute.” She nods, slowly pouting her lips. “Is this your only sketch of him?” Giving her a mocking look, she tosses her hands in the air. “Stupid question. Can I see the others?”
Nodding, I flip backward and show her the different sketches of him I’ve managed to capture. There’s one from the day after we first met, one from the museum, one from a romantic dinner date, one from our jewelry store incident, one from another picnic lunch in the park, and of course, the orange juice one from yesterday. In between the sketches are ones of Aiden and Eiden, and of course, Peter and Belle.
“Who’s this?” She points to the twins, the way they looked at the food court.
“Couple of friends of his,” I comment, smirking at the difference of eye color. “I guess mine now too.”
“Hmm,” she hums out, forcing me to look back down instead of out into traffic. “Who’s this?”
“Oh, that’s Peter,” I comment like it’s not a big deal, hoping that, as long as I’m nonchalant about it, she won’t pick up on anything else. “Justin’s best friend.”
“He’s looks so familiar. He almost looks like…”
“Honey,” my father’s voice pierces through hers, allowing me to close the sketchbook quickly, “you ready?”
“Of course.” She hums and stands up, her pink coat in her arms. “Now, you’re sure this isn’t going to take all day, right? I’m going to need to be back in time to make dinner for Peyton and her boyfriend…”
“Justin.”
“Justin.” My mom nods as my father slides his black blazer on.
“No worries. I set us up for dinner reservations at C’est Chic.” He winks at me, knowing it’s my favorite restaurant. “We will meet you there tonight. All right, sweetie?”
“Okay, Dad.” I smile as he leans over and places a kiss on my forehead.
“Now, let’s get going. The car’s waiting.” He points to the black vehicle that usually drives them around town. As I wave goodbye to them, I stand up to recharge with a good breakfast before heading off to school. I lay my sketchbook down on top of my bag and make myself a bowl of yogurt and sliced apples. Mid-bite of the first apple, I hear the doorbell ring. Curious as to who it could be, I prance over to the door and look through the peephole. Seeing only a badge, I cautiously open the door to see a flower delivery man holding a vase of red roses.
“I’m looking for a Peyton Darling.” He shows me his badge and delivery work order.
“That’s me.” I smile sweetly.
“In here, boys,” he calls to someone in the hall before handing me the vase. I watch as a group of delivery boys start hauling in vases, two at a time, each with a dozen red roses. Without being able to resist the sight of them filing in, I keep my eyes on the front door with my jaw on the ground as thirty six vases congregate in my living room and kitchen.
As soon as they are all settled, I
“We will.” My mom sighs before he strolls over, kisses her on the cheek and me on the forehead, and leaves. Once she hears the front door close, she leans over the couch. “See, told you it would be easy.”
Giggling, I shake my head and continue the sketch of Justin I was working on from earlier. The easy part is getting my parents to let him come over; the hard part is selling the idea that they can trust him when I’m still wondering if I can.
Chapter Six
With my face buried in my sketchbook, I enjoy the early morning breeze. I allow my hand to continue the drawing I was working on from the day before. This time, instead of aiming to get Justin’s face, I’m coloring in the orange on the juice container.
“That him?” My mother plops down beside me in the wicker patio chair.
Innocently, I answer, “Yeah.”
“He’s cute.” She nods, slowly pouting her lips. “Is this your only sketch of him?” Giving her a mocking look, she tosses her hands in the air. “Stupid question. Can I see the others?”
Nodding, I flip backward and show her the different sketches of him I’ve managed to capture. There’s one from the day after we first met, one from the museum, one from a romantic dinner date, one from our jewelry store incident, one from another picnic lunch in the park, and of course, the orange juice one from yesterday. In between the sketches are ones of Aiden and Eiden, and of course, Peter and Belle.
“Who’s this?” She points to the twins, the way they looked at the food court.
“Couple of friends of his,” I comment, smirking at the difference of eye color. “I guess mine now too.”
“Hmm,” she hums out, forcing me to look back down instead of out into traffic. “Who’s this?”
“Oh, that’s Peter,” I comment like it’s not a big deal, hoping that, as long as I’m nonchalant about it, she won’t pick up on anything else. “Justin’s best friend.”
“He’s looks so familiar. He almost looks like…”
“Honey,” my father’s voice pierces through hers, allowing me to close the sketchbook quickly, “you ready?”
“Of course.” She hums and stands up, her pink coat in her arms. “Now, you’re sure this isn’t going to take all day, right? I’m going to need to be back in time to make dinner for Peyton and her boyfriend…”
“Justin.”
“Justin.” My mom nods as my father slides his black blazer on.
“No worries. I set us up for dinner reservations at C’est Chic.” He winks at me, knowing it’s my favorite restaurant. “We will meet you there tonight. All right, sweetie?”
“Okay, Dad.” I smile as he leans over and places a kiss on my forehead.
“Now, let’s get going. The car’s waiting.” He points to the black vehicle that usually drives them around town. As I wave goodbye to them, I stand up to recharge with a good breakfast before heading off to school. I lay my sketchbook down on top of my bag and make myself a bowl of yogurt and sliced apples. Mid-bite of the first apple, I hear the doorbell ring. Curious as to who it could be, I prance over to the door and look through the peephole. Seeing only a badge, I cautiously open the door to see a flower delivery man holding a vase of red roses.
“I’m looking for a Peyton Darling.” He shows me his badge and delivery work order.
“That’s me.” I smile sweetly.
“In here, boys,” he calls to someone in the hall before handing me the vase. I watch as a group of delivery boys start hauling in vases, two at a time, each with a dozen red roses. Without being able to resist the sight of them filing in, I keep my eyes on the front door with my jaw on the ground as thirty six vases congregate in my living room and kitchen.
As soon as they are all settled, I
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