It was nearly midnight when Sage realized her phone was dead. She'd left it charging—she knew she had—on the power outlet in the living room. But when she went to take it, there was nothing.
She sighed, irritation bubbling up like steam from a kettle.
Of course it would be Jaxon.
And right now, when she was tired and her phone was dead and her patience was gone, it was enough to set her off.
Still In her pajama shorts and oversized t-shirt, Sage stomped through the short hallway, her bare feet slapping against the tile.
His door was slightly open.
"Jaxon!" she barked, pushing the door the rest of the way in.
He jerked around from where he was sitting on the floor, surrounded by art supplies. His headphones were still halfway on, one ear exposed. He looked up, startled, a pencil in his hand frozen mid-line.
"Seriously?" she snapped, "Where's my charger?"
He blinked at her, then at the sketchbook in his lap, and for a moment—his eyes widened like he realized something. He moved too late.
Sage's gaze fell and her breath caught.
The open sketchbook on his lap displayed a portrait of her. Not a cartoony, rough doodle. A full, graphite rendering of her profile—her jawline, her eyes, the gentle slope of her shoulders. The texture of her curls.
She stepped closer without thinking her eyes darting over the floor. There were more sketches. At least a dozen loose pages splayed around him. Each one was her. Reading, laughing, eating cereal at the counter. One showed her with her headphones on and her eyes closed, completely lost.
"You're drawing me?" she whispered.
Jaxon closed the sketchbook with a snap and stood. "Okay, look—"
She held up a hand. "No. No way. What the hell, Jaxon?"
"I wasn't—it's not creepy. I swear. It's just—"
"You sketched me without asking!"
"It's for my project!" he said quickly. "For my figure drawing class. I needed someone real. Someone who wasn't posed or fake or…"
Sage's brow furrowed. "So you stalk me?"
"I live with you!"
"You could've asked!"
Jaxon dragged a hand through his hair, clearly flustered. "I didn't think you'd say yes."
She crossed her arms. "You're right. I wouldn't have."
They stared at each other. Neither backed down.
Finally, she exhaled sharply and looked at the drawings again. The truth was, they were good. Not just technically—though he clearly had skill.
"How long have you been doing this?"
Jaxon hesitated. "Couple weeks."
"We've only lived together for a month."
"Yeah."
"And we barely talk."
Sage ran a hand over her face. "You can't just make art out of people without asking."
"I get that, I was going to tell you eventually."
"When? When the university put them in the art showcase?"
"They weren't for showing," he said. "They were just… for me."
That quiet honesty caught her off guard.
She studied his face. Jaxon was tall, lean, always a little rumpled like he never quite smoothed out his edges.
One sketch near her foot caught her eye. She bent and picked it up. It was her asleep on the couch, one arm draped over her stomach and her hair wild around her face. It was... beautiful.
"You drew me like this?" she asked.
"Yeah."
She turned it toward him. "Why?"
Jaxon shrugged again, slower this time. "Because you looked peaceful."
Her throat tightened.
Then she exhaled. "Okay. I'm still mad about the charger, though."
"I swear I didn't take it."
She rolled her eyes. "You always say that."
He chuckled. "Maybe someone else took it. Mila's been coming over a lot."
Sage arched an eyebrow. "Don't drag Mila into this."
"I'm just saying."
She looked around his room—messy, full of charcoal stains and canvas boards and half-finished ideas. Her eyes landed back on the sketchbook.
"You really don't plan on showing these?" she asked.
"No"
"They're not bad," she said, quietly.
Jaxon looked up. "Thanks."
"But you still should've asked."
"I know. I'm sorry."
Sage handed the drawing back. "Just... next time, don't be a creep about it."
He smirked. "Noted."
She turned to leave, but paused at the door. "Jaxon?"
"Yeah?"
"If you ever do a series like this again... maybe I'd say yes. If you ask."
He blinked. "Really?"
"I said maybe."
Jaxon smiled"Deal."
She stepped out into the hallway, and the cool air brushed against her arms. Her heart was still beating a little too fast, and her mind wouldn't stop spinning.
In the morning, her charger was back on her desk. Plugged in.
And next to it, a sticky note.
"Still not a thief. —J."
She smiled. And said nothing.