“Hey,” Dexter whispered. “You know you’re incredible, right?”
Colin nodded. “Fuck yeah. I know that.”
“No.” He cupped the side of Colin’s face. “I mean your art. The way you draw, the way you create something out of nothing. You’re incredible. I’ve never seen anything like it. Do you know that?”
As though searching for some reason Dexter might be lying, Colin studied his face for a moment. He didn’t need to lie, though. Not even exaggerate in the slightest.
The art Colin created—that which he let Dexter see—amazed him. Colin wouldn’t let him or anyone else see what he was preparing for his showcase for school. Not so much as a glimpse. But Dexter had seen plenty of Colin’s work. Sketches, rough drafts, fully completed pieces like the posters over his couch, and everything in between. The attention to detail Colin had, the little things that Dexter would never have noticed—shading, depth, coloring—Colin made it all incredible.