Page 66 of Rival Season
We walk along the sidewalk for a few minutes before we reach an opening in the line of trees and bushes. Penn stops to smile at me, then leads me through the opening so we’re standing at the top of a tall row of steps. There must be a hundred steps; they seem to go on forever.
“I thought you’d like the mosaic steps. There are several sets of them in the city, and I think they’re pretty badass.”
I follow him down the first flight of stairs, and when I look back up, I gasp at the beauty. Colored glass is artfully arranged to make a floral pattern on each step that when you see all the stairs at once, it makes a giant piece of art.
“Wow, they’re gorgeous! I knew about these, but I’d never taken the time to find them.”
“I thought that might be the case.” Penn sets the basket and gift down on the landing then takes my hand in his. We walk down the rest of the stairs so we can see the art in its entirety. It’s breathtaking with swirls, flowers, and leaves in an array of everycolor imaginable. It makes me want to find all the mosaic steps in the city.
“I love it,” I tell Penn.
“Good,” he says, breathing a sigh of relief. “I hoped you would, but I was worried you’d just think I was a huge dork.”
“No way, this is so cool. Plus, I appreciate dorkiness.”
He laughs. “Ally makes us run with her every week, and she likes to find stairs to torture us. We’ve run up every set of mosaic stairs in this city.” He huffs a laugh. “Being here for leisure is much more enjoyable…but don’t tell Ally I said that.”
“Your secret is safe with me.” I wink.
Penn pulls on my hand, and I follow him back to our picnic basket, where we sit side by side on a step. He opens the basket and begins pulling out the items he packed—two sandwiches wrapped in brown paper, two bags of chips, apple slices, and two cans of soda. It’s the cutest thing I’ve ever seen, so much better than any swanky restaurant he could’ve taken me to.
“Sorry it’s nothing fancy,” he says, handing me a sandwich.
“Are you kidding? This is perfect.” I open the paper and take a bite of my turkey sandwich. “I can’t remember the last time I had a picnic.”
“Me either,” he admits, cracking open a soda and taking a sip. “Me and Cass used to have picnics when we were kids.” Penn looks down at his uneaten sandwich. “We had a placement one summer that was particularly…tough. We’d spend all our time in the backyard under a shady tree to avoid being indoors with our foster parents.”
I frown. “I’m so glad you guys had each other.” Remembering my interview with Marcy, I ask, “Did you have a family advocate?”
“We did.” He nods, smiling like he’s remembering back. “Her name was Amanda. She was great.”
“Good.” I turn to face him, our knees brushing together with the movement. “Today I was going through notes of an interview I had with a family advocate, and I couldn’t help but think of you and Cassie.”
He hums, chewing the bite he just took of his sandwich then swallowing. “I like that you thought of me.” He smiles, looking a bit bashful. “I think about you all the time.”
My stomach does a flip at his statement, and I can feel the heat rushing to my chest and face.
“You should open your present.”
My gaze drops to the red bag at his feet, my cheeks still hot. “Okay.” I lift the bag onto my lap and pull out the tissue paper. I gasp when I remove the gorgeous leather jacket I found last week at the thrift shop.
“Penn, how did you know?” I ask, moving my fingers across the buttery soft material.
“Ally might’ve helped me,” he admits.
I chuckle, swinging the jacket over my shoulders and inserting my arms into the sleeves. It fits just as well as I remember. “Thank you, I love it.”
He beams at me with a wide smile that shows off his teeth. They’re not perfectly straight like someone who had braces as a kid, but somehow the tiny imperfections add to his rugged handsomeness. Between the strong jaw lined with a hint of stubble, the intense blue eyes framed with long black lashes, and the full, soft lips, there’s no denying that Penn Matthews isveryeasy on the eyes. “You’re welcome.”
At some point during this conversation—maybe at the realization of his good looks—I must’ve leaned closer to Penn, because now his face is close to mine.
His mouth tugs up in one corner adorably as he reaches out and tucks a curl behind my ear. “You’re beautiful, Hazel.”
“I was just thinking the same thing,” I mutter.
“You were thinking that you’re beautiful?” Penn teases, his blue eyes dropping to my mouth.
“No, you’re beautiful—er, handsome.”
