There was an eddy of disappointment in his gut, at – himself, or – at the space between them, or that flash of expression on Kieran’s face, as if he had caught a fleeting mirror of the feeling in it. He thought – but he could just as easily have imagined it, couldn’t he, out of sheer desperation? Because now Kieran cast him a grin like it was nothing.
Jude tried to convince himself it was. “If you say so,” he replied with a small shake of his head – and Jude had meant to smile, too, to express it more with fondness, but the smile didn’t quite materialise. Too serious, still; something in him a little too solemn to explain.
“You’ll let me see it when you’re done?” he asked instead, silently deciding that if he was going to make it through the rest of this impromptu sitting without losing his mind then he couldn’t look at Kieran any longer, paint in his hair or no paint; to quell the urge again, he dropped his eyes determinedly back to the book.
Jude tried to convince himself it was. “If you say so,” he replied with a small shake of his head – and Jude had meant to smile, too, to express it more with fondness, but the smile didn’t quite materialise. Too serious, still; something in him a little too solemn to explain.
“You’ll let me see it when you’re done?” he asked instead, silently deciding that if he was going to make it through the rest of this impromptu sitting without losing his mind then he couldn’t look at Kieran any longer, paint in his hair or no paint; to quell the urge again, he dropped his eyes determinedly back to the book.
