“Don’t...Leave it alone, and don’t look at it.” I yelp and squirm, embarrassed by my childish scribbles of dresses and outfits that I’ve thought up, but he laughs at me and my futile attempts to get it back from him. Face flaming and wholly mortified. Art was never a huge strong point for me, and clothes are about the only thing I have ever drawn.

“Come on, Sophs. I want to see what you’re drawing.” He holds it higher when I make a mad dash grab for it, wrenching free ...