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was
evident, so I knew it was just an innocent move that wouldn’t occur
again anytime soon.
    He nodded in
agreement, so I resumed the tour. As we walked past doors in the
hallway, I said the names of the rooms but didn’t give him a chance
to look in them. He could find his own way around; I didn’t owe him
anything.
    “Kitchen.
Dining room. Games room. Lounge. Den. The gym’s down there,” I
said, pointing to my favourite part of the whole house.
    “Wait, you have
your own gym? Can I see it?” he asked excitedly. I risked a
sideways glance at him. He was grinning happily; he obviously liked
to exercise, which was actually pretty apparent by his toned
physique.
    “Sure, go
ahead.” I smiled and waved him into the gym. As soon as he was out
of sight, I abandoned my tour and walked up to my room, slamming
the door behind me. I threw myself down on the bed, sighing deeply.
Eight months I’d been told he was here for. He definitely wouldn’t
last more than a month, tops.
     
    After about
half an hour, there was a knock on my bedroom door. I groaned at
the interruption, shoving my sketch pad under my pillow. “What do
you want?” I called, not in the mood to socialise any more
today.
    “Can I come
in?” Ashton retorted. I pushed myself up from the bed, chuckling
wickedly because he was clearly annoyed with me for running off and
leaving him. As I pulled open the door, his annoyed face greeted
me. “Yeah, that was funny,” he said sarcastically. I full on
laughed and cocked my head to the side, not caring that he was
annoyed with me. His frown deepened. “I need to come in and pace
your room.”
    My grip on my
door handle tightened as I pulled it close to my side, blocking his
entry. “What? Go pace in your own room, it’s right next door,” I
scoffed, nodding towards the door next to mine.
    “Yeah I know,
someone showed me after you ditched me,” he muttered sarcastically.
“I didn’t mean I wanted to pace in your room though. I need
to pace your room out so I know where everything is.”
    I frowned, not
liking the idea of having someone in my private space. I didn’t
usually allow agents in my room, but his stern expression told me
that he wasn’t going away until he’d done whatever it was that he
wanted. I sighed deeply and shoved open my door, gesturing for him
to come in. “You’re freaking weird! No one else has paced my room
before.”
    As he walked
in, his eyes flitted around. My bedroom was plain apart from my
sketches that were stuck all over one wall; they were all to do
with the same thing – Jack. No one knew that though, everyone just
thought they were different things – a pair of blue eyes here, a
dandelion there, a football stadium with a player celebrating, a
smudge that was the exact shape of his birthmark he had on the edge
of his hairline. I had drawn them all last year. I didn’t draw Jack
anymore; I tried to, but it just hurt too much. Last year was when
I decided to stop feeling anything, and drawing Jack just made the
pain come back in droves. The things I drew now I didn’t show
anyone, they were too dark. I didn’t put them on my wall; I hid
them or destroyed them before anyone saw and demanded that I seek
help again. I refused to go back to the hospital.
    “These are
really great,” Ashton complimented, looking at my wall of
sketches.
    I sat on my bed
and pulled my knees up to my chest. “Thanks,” I mumbled, watching
him look at each one individually.
    “What’s this
one?” he asked, pointing to one of Jack’s birthmark.
    I sighed,
shrugging. “What does it look like to you? It’s one of those
inkblot tests. It’s whatever you think it is.”
    He turned back
to it, cocking his head to the side, staring at it intently for a
few seconds before he spoke. “Huh, well then maybe I’m hungry
because this looks like a cheeseburger and fries, heavy on the
ketchup.” Not expecting such a witty response, his comment caught
me off guard and, uncharacteristically,