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barn. I reach up and turn down the radio. Park glances at me and smiles. “I don’t think your parents will care that we went out early in the morning. I mean, it’s better than going out late at night, right?”
    I consider this a moment. “You might be right. I don’t know. This is my first time doing boyfriendly things at random hours. I’m not really sure what my rules are.”
    “You’re nineteen. The rules can’t possibly be that restricting.”
    “True. Maybe we won’t tell them anything.”
    Park sits straighter and smiles. “If we have kids one day, I hope they’re as sweet as you. Then I wouldn’t have to sit up all night with a shotgun when she goes on dates.”
    “That was…out of left field,” I say, feeling my throat dry up. Doesn’t he realize that to have kids with me means we’d have to have sex first? Maybe he wants to adopt kids. Whatever the case, he just mentioned having kids with me and now I am freaking out.
    My parents don’t say a thing when we get home. Score one for Park. Mom is eating a sandwich in the living room and Dad is passed out next to her on the couch. It’s weird realizing that one day you’re a legal adult and your parents just don’t care what you do anymore.
    I still haven’t said anything about Park’s mention of our future children, instead choosing to do the easy thing and change the subject. We head into my bedroom and I plop backwards on my bed. “I’m still tired,” I say with a yawn. Although Park and I had snuck in a few hours of sleep this morning, it hadn’t helped much.
    “What happened to the rest of your boxes?” Park asks. He’s on the other side of my room, eyeing the corner that used to be stacked with unfolded triangle mailing boxes. What started out as a stack that came up to my hip, is now a stack only knee-high.
    “They got shipped out all over the country,” I reply, feeling warmth rush to my cheeks. I don’t know why it’s embarrassing admitting that a lot of paintings have sold. I guess I still feel weird about the idea that people want to buy my stuff.
    “Damn, girl.” Park joins me on the bed, lying on his stomach next to me on my back. “I told you people would love your work.”
    “I’ve almost made a thousand dollars so far,” I say. As if it heard me bragging, my phone vibrates and I check it then turn the screen around for Park to see. “Look, I’ve sold another one.”
    “Thirty-five bucks? Babe you should charge a lot more. Like twice as much.”
    I shake my head. “I can’t do that…it’s weird.”
    He takes my hand in his and brings it to his lips. “Why is it weird?”
    I shrug. “It’s just weird that people are spending money on my art.”
    Park chuckles and kisses the top of my hand again. “Honey, your work is amazing and it’s original and I hate to say I told you so, but…”
    “But what?” I say, rolling my eyes.
    “But I told you so,” he says with a laugh. “You’re going to be a famous artist one day. And I’ll be that artist’s boyfriend.”
    “I’m hardly famous. You’re the famous one.”
    “I tell you what,” Park says, leaning over and kissing my cheek. “We’ll both be hardly famous together.”
     
     
    Later, after Park left, claiming he had something to do with Jace, the smell of Mom cooking dinner brings me out of my painting trance and into the kitchen. I had been painting a series of canvasses with romantic quotes on them, no doubt because of the massive amount of love Park had left me with, flowing through my veins and all over my heart.
    I know I don’t know much about love, but when your heart aches for them while they’re still in the same room with you, that has to mean something. And now that he’s been gone a few hours, my heart aches more than ever before. I think I’m finally ready to take our love to the next level—the sex level—but I need to make sure all of my bodily issues are gone before letting Park know this.
    Mom notices my good mood the