Page 79

“Because you’re done with the lollipop.”

“That’s not—” He starts, then stops, frowning. “Why do you have candy bars in your pockets?”

“I have many things in my pockets.”

“That’s disturbing.”

“Eat it.”

He unwraps it, still watching me with that wary expression, and takes a small bite. The caramel stretches between his teeth. He catches it with his tongue, chews, and some of the sharpness returns to his eyes as the sugar hits his system again.

“Stay where you are.”

He pauses mid-chew. “What?”

“Don’t move.”

“Why? I need to go.”

I shake my head. “Not yet.”

“But—”

“Let me draw you first.”

I settle onto the floor in front of the couch, cross-legged, and flip to a fresh page of a sketchbook nearby.

Ilya looks at me like I’ve lost my mind. “You want to draw me,” he says slowly, “right now.”

“Mhm.”

He takes another bite of the candy bar, chewing while his eyes track over my face, searching for the catch in what I’m offering.

“You’re insane.”

“So you’ve said.”

“You’re actually unhinged.”

“Also established.”

He looks down at the candy bar in his hand, then back at me, and something complicated moves across his face. “Why?” he asks again, softer this time.

I hold his gaze and start sketching.

The pencil moves across the page but I don’t look down at the paper. I know his face well enough to draw it with my eyes closed. What I need to see is him. This version of him.

“Because it’s the first time you aren’t running.”

His throat moves. “That doesn’t mean anything.”

“It means everything.”

I return to my drawing, adding detail to the line of his throat and the quality of light that seems to gather around him even in dim rooms. My pencil moves faster now, capturing not just what he looks like but what he feels like in this moment: unguarded, confused.

“You’re looking at me weird.”

I smile without looking up. “I’m drawing you.”