19.

I had seen many paintings in many different museums. I'd seen countless of statues, modern artworks beautiful and purposely 'ugly', and even a few monuments in faraway countries while on vacation.

All these amazing pieces of art and none could hold a candle to Atticus in the door opening with the biggest cowlick I'd ever seen plus hair sticking out in all directions after taking a shower.

It was truly a sight to behold. No sarcasm whatsoever. I was inspired to draw him, if only I could tell him to stand still in the door opening exactly like this for an hour so I could get every detail right.

I would've enjoyed it even more if his expression wasn't so grave.

Instead of being excited about having a 'date' I'd been busy practicing my calm down speeches for Atticus. Of course, I was a terrible planner and forgot everything I wanted to say the moment Atticus was standing in front of me.

"He was just sayin' that," I blurted, throwing out the first thing that came to mind. Then I lowered my voice to a whisper, not sure how thin or thick the walls of the cottage were. "That guy? He doesn't actually believe us together is incest. He just said that to get that other guy off ya back."

Atticus sighed. He stepped further into the room and carefully closed the door behind him. "I know that."

There was no panic in Atticus' posture. No inkling of proof of him going closed-off jar mode on me soon. This was less bad than I thought it would be. I didn't have to calm him down, but I did have to get rid of the sour candy expression.

"Okay," I said. "Just checkin' 'cause you looked real embarrassed just now."

I scooted to the side on my bed and patted the space next to me, inviting Atticus to lay down. After darting a glance behind him, Atticus walked over. The mattress sunk as he lowered himself on the bed and his frown deepened.

"I know why he said what he said," he repeated. "But is it too much to ask to not have people talk about this at all? Or even think about it?"

Atticus made a frustrated sound as he laid back on the bed, staring at the ceiling. "I wish I could make them not think anything when looking at two people who could hypothetically like each other."

"Uh..." I didn't entirely understand the point Atticus was trying to make. He seemed to struggle picking the right words. I propped myself up on my elbows. "Why?"

"It's just—" Atticus sighed. "It's unnecessary for anyone to talk about who's doing what together and who likes who unless two people are in a relationship. We should pretend it doesn't exist."

"Wow, you really hate other people talkin' about you, don't you?" I tilted my head to the side and smiled. "How will two people ever get together if nobody's allowed to show interest unless they're already together?"

'I don't know." Atticus was quiet as he seemed to process his own thoughts. "I just hate it when everyone sticks their nose in our business. That's all."

Our, he said our. Atticus didn't seem to realise just how much of his thoughts he let slip with that little three letter word, and I didn't want to point it out. I cherished the moment in private, enjoying the rollercoaster sensation in my stomach.

"So, how was trainin'?" I changed the topic.

Atticus turned his head to look up at me. "Brutal. Sorry, it's really not for all levels anymore this year. I didn't know, else I would've said something beforehand."

I smiled. "Nah, that's fine. I would've went anyway - even if I don't have any football talent. Tryouts showed as much. But I'm not sorry I went."

I gave Atticus an all-saying up and down glance, and enjoyed watching his cheeks flush.

"Tryouts don't say everything," he said. "When I first tried out, I fell flat on my face in front of everyone in the first minute."

The mental image of Atticus diving into the grass head first in Zack Snyder slowmotion made me laugh. "No way, you?"

"Yup. One visit to the dentist later I had a fake tooth. Veneer." Atticus chuckled, bared his teeth and pointed at his right front tooth.

I leaned closer and squinted. "They did a good job. I can't tell."

Atticus closed his mouth and suddenly I was hovering near his face and looking at his lips for no reason.

We could quickly think of a reason though. After a brief pause in which we looked into each others' eyes, both leaning in. His lips brushed against mine and I shifted on the bed so our upper bodies touched. As our lips parted, I felt him shudder. I felt goosebumps on his arms when I traced the thick veins with my fingertips.

While I'd secretly hoped for a little bit more out of this bootcamp and having a private room without parents, I decided against trying anything more. It didn't feel right with how nervous Atticus seemed to be. When we broke apart, his hands trembled like leaves in the wind and his eyes nervously darted over my shoulder to the bedroom door.

I could be happy with only making out. It'd just have to be a quick bathroom visit for me when Atticus went to his own room.

For now, I simply smiled, tangling my fingers in Atticus' wet hair and gently pushing his head down to rest on my chest. He did, and told me the ins and outs about football today while I enjoyed the scent of his shampoo and his weight on top of me. I then told him about home in Greensboro and my favourite art styles

Atticus didn't stay longer than an hour in the end. Not even when I only half-jokingly clung to his arm. It didn't matter however, he'd given me plenty of material for sweet dreams and about a dozen of Atticus-inspired sketches when I got home.

The next day, Chiara and Dad came together to pick us up.

"What happened to your leg?" Dad immediately asked when I limped his way together with Atticus, who had insisted on carrying my bag for me.

"Oh, just tripped," I simply replied.

That's all I got the chance to say to Dad. The boys on the varsity football team noticed their favourite coach had arrived, and suddenly huge-shouldered jocks pushed past me, forming a circle around my dad and Chiara who happened to be standing next to him.

"Coach Turner!" Corey called out, right before he started talking about 'that exercise' and like usual nobody immediately understood what he was talking about.

"Boys, I made you all some healthy oatmeal cookies!" I heard Chiara's voice above the chatter. "They're great as a snack."

Chiara opened some Tupperware box filled with cookies and started offering them  to everyone. All the jocks gratefully took one, including Atticus and finally me.

Chiara offering cookies wasn't odd. She liked taking care of 'her kids' and that motherly care seemed to extend to all the football boys, too.

Unlike dad, she was all about public displays of affection. It surprised me when Chiara approached Dad, and Dad put an arm around her, pressing a kiss to her forehead.

"Oi, no public displays of affection here, Coach," one of the boys teased them.

Dad and Chiara both heartily laughed.

"Don't worry, you'll understand all of this when you get older." Chiara used the standard adult reply with a mysterious smile.

Dad looked so happy. Even if he didn't smile much, with his hand resting on Chiara's shoulder and the sparkle in his eyes, I could tell he was. He and Chiara were much better together than my mom and he ever were.

Like he fell for Chiara, I was falling for Atticus hard and fast.

Could I do this? How would they react? Would I ruin Dad's happiness by putting a strain on his relationship with what I was doing?

Atticus and I had touched upon the subject only briefly, before deciding touching each other was a much more pleasant use of our time. But I wasn't planning on sneaking around forever. If we'd do this, we'd do this fully with no shame and no reserve. It seemed I was too much of a romantic to accept half a relationship.

I looked at Atticus, wondering if he shared my thoughts. He was more of a thinker than I was, so I was sure he'd considered it by now. But he was also very good at keeping his thoughts inside his head, and made it notoriously difficult to get them out. Sometimes, getting him to talk was like shaking the last bit out of a ketchup bottle.

As we walked to the car, Atticus met my gaze.  We exchanged a glance, before saying our goodbyes and quietly sliding in the backseat of the car.