Erasing any flicker of doubt she still harbored had been about the only thing on my mind since our moment in the bathroom. I didn’t want even the tiniest bit hanging out in the back of her head.

“What are you doing here?” She slung her backpack up onto her shoulder.

“I wanted you to see something.”

“What is it?” She approached cautiously and tilted to the side like she was trying to see behind my back.

“It’s at my house.”

Her eyebrows scrunched down. “Are you going to bring it over?”

“You have to come to my place to see it.”

Her eyebrows dipped, but she nodded. “Give me a second.”

She ran into her house, the screen door slamming behind her. It swung back open and she joined me on the walkway.

“I had to leave a note for my mom that I was going back out. I’ll need to take the bike, in case we’re not back by the time she’s back from the store and heads out to work.”

“Let me push it.” I grabbed for the handle bars.

“I can do it.” She pushed the bike. We walked in silence back around the block.

My body had suddenly created ten times the normal amount of pores, each working overtime to crank out the sweat like I was walking through Death Valley.

We walked into my house. I hurried her up the stairs, not wanting the stench of stale beer and cigarettes and the outdated and shitty—well, everything—to steal anything away from this moment. Also, the rush helped to keep me from losing my nerve.

The padlocks on my bedroom door clicked, the only sound other than the muted creak of the floorboards under the worn and ripped carpet.

“You weren’t kidding,” she whispered behind me.

I grimaced and shoved open the door, closing it behind us to block out all the shiftiness outside my refuge. The space seemed so much smaller with someone else in it. I opened the window to push back against the walls closing in, and to let some of the fear about what I was about to do out.

Crouching down in front of my desk, I grabbed the padlock. My hands were clammy and sweaty. I could taste the metal through my skin.

Bay looked around my room, soaking it in. Seeing it from her point of view, I winced. Hand-me-down, side-of-the-road furniture was all I had, and even that was only a dresser, a desk, and my bed. The edges of everything were busted and barely hanging on. Her room fit her…and I guessed mine fit me too.

I wiped one hand on my jeans and unlocked the padlock. The body of the lock scraped against the chipped particle board drawer.

Clenching my chest, I took a deep breath. My blood felt like sludge in my veins, and also like someone had jammed a needle of adrenaline straight into it. My body hummed with dread.

Refusing to let my hands shake, I pulled the top sketchpad out of the drawer and stood.