Good Grades & Mystery Games by Janisha Boswell

Author:Janisha Boswell [Boswell, Janisha]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2023-10-12T16:00:00+00:00

‘Germiane Eckbert b. 1803. You are home, 1829. Acrylic on canvas.’

“It’s beautiful,” she whispers.

“It is,” I say, staring at her and only her.

The paintings in here are gorgeous, sure. They took years of perfecting. Months of making sure each stroke was made to perfection. Weeks of staring at a blank canvas to create something so beautiful. With her, she only gets more and more beautiful over time. God only had one try and she made her perfect in every way that counts.

She stares at the painting while I look at her side profile, watching her truly take it in. She’s still staring, so I don’t even realise that she’s moved her hand, settling it right into mine.

Her small hand clasps over mine, squeezing it gently, not looking at me. Her warmth and her touch are like something I’ve never experienced before. It’s so soft yet anchoring, like it could keep me alive. It has that underlying strength like it could move mountains while also bringing about a strong sense of calm and tranquillity. It just feels safe.

When I’m with her, I'm not worrying about what could happen tomorrow. I’m not thinking about stupid compulsions that tell me if I don’t do something by a certain time I'm going to die. I just exist. And she exists with me. Together but separate.

“What are you doing?” I choke out, hoping she can’t feel how hard my pulse is hammering.

She sighs. “Don’t make this weird.”

I ignore her. “Why are you holding my hand, sweetheart?”

“Because it’s upsetting that you’ve never been on a date before. You might piss me off, but you've been more bearable than usual and the fact that you’ve never been able to experience the fine art of handholding is just downright sad,” she explains smoothly.

“Since when do my feelings matter to you?”

“They don’t.”

I groan, throwing my head back. “This thing that you’re doing, Scarlett, it isn’t cute anymore. Cut it out. We’re not doing this. Got it?”

The second things start going somewhere, she says shit like that. It doesn’t usually piss me off. Most of the time I hope she’s joking, but it gets to a point where I can’t tell anymore. She can tease me all she wants. She can tell me how much I annoy her just by breathing and I’ll take it. But I thought that something shifted the other day when we spoke. When she told me that she knew I wanted her.

She turns to me now, her eyebrows scrunched together. She seems a little taken aback from my sudden seriousness. “Doing what?”

“This,” I say, gesturing between us. I try to keep my cool. We’re in a goddamn museum for God’s sake. “You hating me. Pretending you don’t care about my feelings. What is so bad about me, Scarlett, huh? Tell me. Tell me what you don’t like about me because I’m going insane trying to figure it – you – out.”

She drops her hand from mine now and it feels empty, like a piece of my heart has been ripped out.

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