Bye-Bye Jerk, Hello Mr. Right

I thought about it for a second, then strolled over to the bookshelf, grabbed a random book, and flopped down into the lounge chair to read. I stayed there for what felt like forever, lost in the quiet, until Lizzy called me down for dinner.

1

“You’re even prettier in person than in the paintings,” Lizzy said, just as I was about to take a bite of my food. I froze, fork mid air, totally caught off guard.

“Paintings? What paintings?”

She smiled. “Mr. Johnston’s paintings. All of them are of you. They’re in the studio upstairs.”

Wait What?

When I went up to the terrace earlier, I’d passed the second floor, but I hadn’t bothered checking any rooms I had no idea there was even a studio up there,

And the craziest part? Wayne points? I’d never known that.

We grew up together before he went abroad, and as far as I knew, art was not his thing. Did he pick up painting in the last few years? And he’s been painting… me?

I glanced over at Lizzy, busy in the kitchen. She had to be messing with me, right? I mean–maybe she couldn’t tell us apart, like how sometimes I struggle with distinguishing some faces.

But then again, the curiosity hit me like a wave. So, I put my fork down, barely touched my food, and decided to check it out.

I had no clue which room was the studio, so I just started opening doors, one by one.

Wayne’s bedroom. A study. A workout room. A walk–in closet… Finally, I found a door that was locked with a keypad.

This had to be the studio.

It’s only natural to be curious, especially when it might have something to do with you.

Lizzy’s words got me thinking. I had to see these paintings for myself, but I didn’t have the code to get in. I tried Wayne’s birthday first. Wrong.

Okay, if it wasn’t his birthday… then what could it be?

I racked my brain, but honestly, I didn’t know Wayne that well. Back when we were close, he was always so quiet, and I was way too caught up in Jace to pay him much attention.

Then Wayne went abroad, and we barely kept in touch. I really didn’t know anything about him anymore

Then it hit me–what Lizzy said about the studio being full of paintings of me. Could the code be my birthday?

I typed it in and, after a beat, the door unlocked with a soft beep.

But instead of the usual thrill of cracking the code, a weird tightness gripped my chest.

Okay, that was unexpected. Wayne’s feelings for me clearly ran a lot deeper than I’d realized.

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