Misfits Like Us (Like Us #11)(11)

Donnelly sweeps my reaction. “Changes?”

“More stars, that’s all.”

“More stars comin’ up.” He lowers the sketchbook to his lap, uncaps the pen with his teeth, and tweaks the design with pen. Not even pencil.

Permanent corrections that he can’t take back.

I’m hypnotized in how the tip of his pen moves effortlessly over the paper. “You still want this on your thigh?” He casts a brief glimpse at my bare leg.

“Yeah, right here.” While I’m leaning on the desk, I motion to my thigh and lift a portion of my shorts, showing him the side of my butt. “Then down to my kneecap. I think it’s an easy enough place to color when I’m sitting.”

“It’ll look dope.” The pen cap is still between his teeth, but I hear him clearly. His pen scurries swiftly over the galaxy, adding tiny prominent stars, all outlines that could come to life with color.

With a rip of the paper, Donnelly rests the sketch against my thigh. “You want it bigger?”

“Bigger,” I nod.

“I’ll add another…half sheet.” He measures with his fingers. His index skims the tender flesh of my knee, the warmth of his skin tingling my whole body. Like I’ve never been touched before. Even though I have, plenty of times.

Why is his touch so different?

He’s focused and flips to a new page in his sketchbook. He draws on the top-half. His pen whirls and zooms, creating planets and asteroids and ten-pointed stars.

I’m in awe of his talent. Did he have someone critiquing him when he was young and starting as a tattoo apprentice? I bet there was no TillieStayzor79 sending anonymous criticism on the internet about his tattoos. Maybe he was just naturally always this amazing.

Maybe I just suck.

I’m wincing at myself when Donnelly’s pen slows to a complete stop. His gaze fixates more on me like he sees the wince of all winces.

“If you don’t like something, you can tell me,” Donnelly says, still studying my reaction. “You don’t have to lie. I can take the truth.” He tilts his head in a way that nearly steals my breath. I’d like to think I’m not the only one who becomes breathless this close to him. The aliens who get ahold of him would definitely all suffocate.

But for me, I have to remember three things:

Twenty-seven.

Bodyguard.

Paul Donnelly.





4





LUNA HALE





“It wasn’t a lie,” I tell him. “You made the design better. It’s prettier than I even pictured.”

He tries to return to the sketch, but his forehead creases again. His eyes brush over my features. “What’s that look then?”

Insecurities about my fics and my own talents might bubble up, but they’re harder to share with people. Instead of ripping my heart that wide open, I just say, “I think about floating a lot.” I eye the glow-in-the-dark stars on my ceiling. “What it’d be like to be an astronaut floating through space, drifting past the many universes and planets, only able to see these big orbs. Stuck forever from reaching them. It’s one of my biggest fears.” I glance down at his sketchbook, stationary on his lap while he listens. “But discovering new planets could also kill you. It’s a Catch-22. To float forever or to risk death.” I nod to myself. “Even if floating is easier, I’m trying not to. I test things out.”

“Experiments.” He gets me.

“Scientific studies,” I sing-song with another round of sparkle hands. “Like Andrew.”

Donnelly recaps his pen. “He still takin’ space in your brain?”

“Sometimes.” I glide out to the middle of the room, and Donnelly spins in the chair to face me as I say, “I did test him out.”

“He pass or what?”

I think for a second. With the tip of my tongue, I touch the metal bead of my barbell tongue ring. “I’m not sure if he passed or failed. Like I told you that one time, he gave okay head, but I don’t have anything to compare him to. He’s the only guy who has gone down on me so far, and really, I still wish I could experience what good head feels like.” I scratch a crescent moon sticker off my cheek that I forgot was there. “Most experiments have constants or baselines, but then again, I was never an ace in science class.”

“Me neither. Doesn’t mean we can’t rock it in the real world.”

My best idea sprouts. Total lightbulb moment. “I’m gonna find a baseline for good head.”

Donnelly raises his hand. “I volunteer as tribute.”

“It could lead to your certain death.”

He stands off the chair. “Your pussy has teeth?”

“Claws.”

He blows out a breath like he’s in love. His eyes descend the length of me but they never graze too deep. It’s like he’s too eager to return to my gaze. His grin appears, causing my smile to mushroom.

“You really want me to?” he asks.

“If the offer from summer still exists.” Even though it was a few months ago, I can practically still hear him in my head saying: If you’re just lookin’ to be eaten out, I’ll eat you out. What if he wasn’t being serious back then? What if it was a joke? He was around Farrow when he said it. Hurriedly, I add, “Unless you were joking. And maybe it’s me. Maybe I’m the bad variable and I’m just wired wrong.”