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?” Exclusive content from NôvelDrama.Org.

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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