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NED WAS WATCHING HER PAINT. It was Thursday, and they had been dating for a total of one day—she wasn't sure if it counted as dating if they only kissed once at the end of lunch in the empty band room, but she didn't know either way. However it was, their relationship hadn't changed much, though they did hold hands under the lunch table and she kissed his cheek if he said something cute.
The confession of the painting was rather cute, but the execution left much to be desired. She was planning on painting a transparent football helmet over a brain to signify that duality in the person who was confessing, to show that, in the twenty-first century, people weren't as black and white as the media portrayed, and football players could be just as smart as members of the chess team, and that everyone should strive to be more accepting and to look deeper than the surface.
If people looked deeper than the surface, Ned Leeds would be king of the school; Brooke was willing to bet her life on that.
"I like that," he said, pointing to the plain pink brain, "I thought you were gonna do it in school colors, but I think it's better that it's the general pink."
"That's what I was thinking, I'm trying to make it symbolic of all people, and I think having it be school colors would really take away from the meaning," she said, and she wasn't sure if she should be acting different because they had kissed, but she didn't feel like she had to act any different.
Ned must have noticed her shift, because he asked, "What's wrong?"
She worried on her bottom lip, shrugging. She liked Ned, and she liked holding his hand, but she wasn't sure if she was doing this right. She wasn't even sure if she was doing friendship right, let alone a romantic relationship, and she didn't want to ask anyone how to do it right, because as she learned from multiple websites she had Googled when she was in the seventh grade, boys are complicated and relationships were built on communication.
She didn't want to wind up not being friends with Ned because they didn't communicate.
"I don't know much about dating," she admitted, "I like us being friends, but I also like the hand holding, but should I be doing something else?"
Ned shrugged and shook his head, his eyebrows furrowed and large lips slightly pouted as he took in her words. "I don't think so. I mean, I've never had a girlfriend, but I don't think you have to do anything, I like what we're doing now. Peter and Diana kissed a lot more, but that's because Peter really liked cuddling and stuff. We hug a lot."
She smiled, cooing softly. "That's really nice, Ned. It's nice you two are really good friends."
He nodded, giving her a sad smile. "Thanks. I'm sorry you never really had one like that."
She shrugged, setting aside her paints for a moment to move to where he was sitting on her beanbag, dropping down next to him, sidling up to his side and resting her head on his shoulder, leaning against him, and he struggling to pull his arm out to wrap it around her, his large hand holding onto her shoulder, and it was a little awkward, but they were trying at the very least.
