I'm Just The Same As I Was

Chapter Two: Trading Secrets

[[Pic of Jason to the side]]

Chapter Two
Trading Secrets

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I tried not to notice how my fingertips tingled from his touch, but what can I say? I'm a teenage boy... my hormones do whatever the hell they want; and right now, what they wanted was to dance the jig through my bloodstream while they thought about Malcom.

I pulled my hand from his and smiled a shy smile. His returning smile was dazzling; white teeth standing out against the slight tan of his skin.

I felt my face flush and suddenly felt uncomfortable taking up two spots by sitting sideways, facing my new seat buddy, so I slid my feet back to the floor and faced forwards. I also leaned down to move my bag away from his feet so he had more room, but I was never the smoothest operator. As I moved my bag, my sketchbook tumbled from where it have been balancing on the top of my bag; it did a somersault across the floor, tumbling open, face down, at Malcom's feet. 

"Oops... Sorry about that." I tried not to blush as I bent, reaching for it.

Just as my fingers brushed the metal of the spiral binding the sketchbook was pulled just out of reach. I stared at Malcom's hand as he brought the sketchbook up, closing it to look at the cover, which I had decorated with doodles of skulls and stars. He gently ran his fingers over the front, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

"You draw?" he asked, but before I could answer, he laughed at himself and looked over at me, rolling his eyes. "Of course you do, it's a sketchbook!"

I just straightened back up, looking at him, my eyes drifting between him and my sketchbook. I nodded mutely.

"May I?" Malcom asked, indicating the sketchbook, his eyes still searching my face. I could almost feel his gaze linger over my skin.

I felt a little more color flood my face. I had never really shown anyone but my older brother, Matt, my artwork. I wanted to tell him no, that it was private, but my lips couldn't move. Without intending to, I nodded my assent. His grin grew, his eyes seeming to sparkle a little.

"Thanks man!"  He flipped open the cover as he spoke, slowly taking in one image before turning the page. "I've always wished I could draw, but anything I saw in my head never translated well to paper."

I was silent as I watched him, quiet as I watched his fingers turn the pages. He moved slowly and deliberately, careful to only touch the edges so he didn't touch the sketches. He was being so careful with the pages that I had to hide a smile. He acted like the sketches were glass, not paper.

I actually laughed. "Malcom, they're not going to break! You're being so careful!"

He looked at me, his eyes widening a little as another small smile spread across his lips smooth and slow like warm honey. He seemed to just be staring at me, watching me laugh at him. He didn't seem the least bit offended by my teasing. I was probably just as surprised as he was that I was starting to loosen up.

When my laughter subsided, he was still smiling at me, his green eyes roaming my face. I felt my cheeks heat again and I averted my gaze to the book in his hands. From the corner of my eye I saw him return to looking at the book. He slowly turned another page.

"But I do have to be careful. Art is something that can never be created the exact same way twice." His voice seemed light, filled with laughter, but his eyes looked seriously at the pages. He was quiet a moment before he looked at me again, pointing at the page. "What's this one for?"

My brow furrowed. I couldn't see which one he was talking about.

"Which?" I asked.

He surprised me by scooting over into the middle seat, leaning close to me and turning the book a bit so I could see. It was my sketch of a large red rose with two pistols on either side, pointing away from it.