Paintbrush by Bucchin Hannah

Author:Bucchin, Hannah [Bucchin, Hannah]
Language: eng
Format: azw3, epub
Publisher: Blaze Publishing, LLC
Published: 2017-07-11T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twenty-Five

Josie

The look on Mitchell’s face—equal parts relieved and happy and even a little anxious—might be the cutest thing I’ve ever seen. It makes my heart melt and ooze right down my ribcage. It makes an embarrassingly wide smile stretch across my face. It makes my cheeks turn red. It makes me want to kiss him.

Of course, I don’t. I’ve only kissed two boys, ever. One was Jordan Quinn, when we dated for two brief weeks last year. Leah insisted we would be great together, based on the fact we both like Harry Potter. Even after I tried to explain to her everybody likes Harry Potter—that she was the weird one for not liking Harry Potter—even then, she kept insisting. We went on three dates—two of which were at the mall—and we made out twice, both times in his car. They were very forgettable dates and very forgettable kisses. Turns out there’s only so much to be said about Harry Potter, and only so much kissing can fill empty space in the conversation. When he broke up with me to “focus on his studies” (a.k.a. date first chair violin Kristy O’Malley), I was wildly relieved.

The only other boy I’ve kissed is Mitchell, when we were, like, eleven. And up until a few days ago, I wasn’t even sure he remembered. I’m still not totally sure.

All in all, this has not added up to a lot of kissing experience for me. Definitely not as much as Mitchell, I’m sure. I might be a bad kisser. I can’t risk it. No matter how happy Mitchell looks. No matter how cute he looks in the candlelight.

Mitchell stares at my face. He stares at my lips. He leans slightly forward, with this kind of blurry look in his eyes, and my heart beats double time. Maybe triple time. Maybe too fast to even tell.

I clear my throat. “So what did you want to show me?”

He blinks and leans back, eyes still dazed. “What?”

I gesture to the candle. “You were blowing out the candles?”

“Oh. Yeah.” He leans over and blows on the final candle. The wick sputters, and then the light is gone, and we are in total pitch-blackness.

“You still there?” His voice floats through the darkness.

I laugh. “I don’t have a lot of options.”

“Right.” He shuffles around, and then his knee bumps against mine. “Okay. Just lie down.” He pauses. “Sorry. Not in a weird way. I mean—”

“It’s fine.” Slowly, I lower myself onto the floor and hear Mitchell doing the same. We end up side by side, our shoulders brushing against each other. The sound of Mitchell’s breathing is so close to my ear and the warmth radiating from his body is so palpable I have to force myself not to shiver.

“So?” he asks.

I haven’t been paying attention. “So . . . what?”

“Look up.”

I do. And when I do, I gasp. I can’t help it.

“Right?” I can hear the grin in Mitchell’s voice. “No light pollution out here.”

Above us, the opening in the top of the cave reveals a perfect starry night sky.

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