Riptide (Boys of Summer) by Jordan Ford & Boys of Summer

Author:Jordan Ford & Boys of Summer [Ford, Jordan]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Jordan Ford Books
Published: 2019-06-17T18:30:00+00:00

13

Late-Night Doodles

I sneak in with just a light buzz firing through me. I only had two beers, so it’s not like I’m completely wasted or anything.

Keeping my steps soft and even, I creep down the hallway, but notice Mom’s light is still on.

I check my watch, relieved that I’m not too late. Technically I’m still grounded, but Mom seems to have forgotten about that statement, or maybe let it slide because she knew I wasn’t going to stick to the rules anyway.

I tap on her bedroom door and softly say, “I’m home.”

“Thanks, sweetie. Sleep well.”

She doesn’t come out to see me, which I’m grateful for. I don’t want her smelling the beer on my breath. I slip into my room before she can change her mind, and plunk into my desk chair.

Tapping the space bar, I wake up my screen and am disappointed there isn’t an email from Snap Dragon. It’s bugging me, big-time.

She hasn’t emailed me since our last conversation.

Not that I’ve emailed her either.

I just haven’t thought of anything intelligent to say, and I guess I’ve been waiting for something from her. She emailed me last time when I didn’t reply.

I want another subject line like ‘I get you.’

Clicking on that email, I scroll through our communication and reread everything we said to each other. It makes me smile, so I then find our original emails and read all of those as well. I like this chick. This little bookworm.

I try to imagine what she looks like.

Is she pretty? Skinny? Chubby? Old? Young? Black? Asian? Latino?

Grabbing my pen, I start sketching various combinations on my pad of paper. They start out pretty sane and get slightly crazier as I go. Mohawk spikes and a pierced face through to an angelic hippy. I get quite absorbed with the artwork.

I’ve always loved to draw.

It’s not something I publicize. My friends would probably think it was lame. The only time they’ve seen my skills is when we’ve spray-painted a dumpster or the back alley of a building. And that’s always a rush job, with adrenaline pumping through my veins, the idea of getting caught making the experience a natural high.

But drawing at my desk like this is different.

Creating art gives me this weird sense of peace. It’s not enough to squash the angst or fill the hole in my chest, but it does calm me down.

My page is soon covered with different faces of different girls. I scan them all, wondering which one Snap Dragon is.

I decide I like the one of the girl with long straight hair and the dragon tattoo on her neck. I also like the one of the black girl holding the camera.

“Who are you?” I murmur, dropping my pen and bringing up a fresh email.

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