Last Summer Read Free Page B

as they sat down together on the soft blanket. “Then I want to talk to you about something.”
    The picnic hamper was filled with all of Kelsi’s favorites—roasted eggplant sandwiches and vegan potato salad, olives and cherry tomatoes, with brownies for dessert. Kelsiwas sure it was the best meal she’d ever eaten. As they ate, Bennett told her stories about his recent art projects and his father’s well-meaning, if bumbling, attempts to understand things, such as finding his only son half naked in the basement at two A.M. , covered in purple paint.
    “I think he’d have been a lot happier if I’d been covered in beer,” Bennett told her, laughing. “You know, beer he could comprehend. He was the president of his fraternity back in the day. Me—all wild-eyed and clutching my paintbrush? Not so much.”
    “What did he do?” Kelsi asked. She put the remains of her brownie aside (dairy- and gluten-free, because Bennett was good at details, she thought happily), and stretched out on her back, her feet across Bennett’s lap so she could see the stars. It was only the stars above and this little ring of light, with the two of them in the center. And Bennett’s sweet, deep voice, which she felt she could listen to forever.
    “He hemmed and hawed and left me to it,” Bennett said. “Which is the most you could ask for, I think. Right?”
    “Definitely,” Kelsi agreed. She’d met Bennett and Taryn’s parents several times, and was always struck by how normal they seemed in comparison to their madcap children. How the four of them handled one another so well was one of life’s great mysteries.
    “So that’s kind of what I wanted to talk to you about,”Bennett said gently, moving her feet aside and stretching out next to her.
    “Purple paint at two A.M. ?” Kelsi laughed at him. “I don’t think I need any further details to enjoy that visual!”
    “Very funny.” Bennett propped his head up with one hand, and Kelsi stopped laughing as his gaze went serious behind his glasses. “Do you remember me talking about Carlos Delgado?”
    “Carlos Delgado,” Kelsi echoed, as if she had to think about it. She wrinkled her nose. “I think I might have heard you mention him five or six thousand times. Since he’s only your favorite contemporary artist in the entire world…”
    “So, you remember,” Bennett said drily.
    “I’m still not sure,” Kelsi teased him. “I remember going to Manhattan for the weekend and visiting his gallery show no less than seven times. But besides that, I don’t think I remember.”
    “So there was this internship,” Bennett said quickly. Kelsi got the sense that his excitement was too unwieldy for him to even respond to her teasing. “And one of the seven times we went to the gallery, I picked up the application, and don’t be mad, Kels, but I decided to apply.” He let out a breath.
    “Why would I be mad?” she asked, shaking her head at him.
    “Because I hid it from you.” Bennett reached over and traced a pattern slowly along her arm, up her neck and to her cheek, as if she were his canvas and his finger were a paintbrush. “I thought that if I pretended it wasn’t real, it would hurt less when I got rejected. Is that crazy?”
    “It makes perfect sense,” Kelsi told him, turning her head to kiss his palm.
    “But the most amazing thing happened,” he whispered. “And now I’m afraid that it isn’t real, but I’m going to tell you, anyway.”
    “You got it.” She knew from the sparkling wonder in his dark eyes, and the joy in his voice.
    “I got it.” Bennett stared at her, shaking his head. “I’m going to be Carlos Delgado’s personal assistant for the whole summer.”
    Kelsi let out a little whoop of joy, and grabbed him into a hug.
    “This is terrific!” she cried. “I’m so proud of you!”
    “I’ll visit you every weekend, or maybe you’ll come down,” Bennett added hurriedly, hugging her back. “I don’t want you to feel like