The Anatomical Shape of a Heart Read Online Free PDF

with Helen of Troy’s in the ship-launching department.
    Jack.
    He looked so different in daylight. A turquoise plaid Western shirt peeked out from the jacket, which was one of those classic black leather motorcycle ones. And when I say classic, I mean actually vintage—like, straight-up, 1950s Marlon Brando Wild One –style, all lightened along the creases and covered in tiny punk rock buttons. It matched the big black boots beneath the turned-up cuffs of his jeans. No hat covered his hair today, which was dark brown and several inches longer on the top than the super-close-cropped sides and back. That long top was swooped up into a loose pompadour, with fallen tendrils hanging over his forehead and all tousled in a way that was far too good to be windblown.
    He was all retro and rockabilly and cool. If James Dean and David Beckham had a baby, it would be Jack. That jewel-thief outfit he’d been wearing that first night was a total criminal disguise.
    â€œJack the Vandal,” I said, and not in a cheerful way, either. More like he was my mortal enemy.
    He cringed and glanced around. “Can you please not announce that to the world? I liked it better when I was Jack the Burglar.”
    â€œSo you’re not denying it? I mean, you shouldn’t, because I know what I saw, and then I find out that you … desecrated the Botanical Garden.”
    â€œâ€˜Desecrated’?”
    â€œYou heard me.” Okay, I hadn’t actually meant to use that word. It’s not like I’m really into flowers and thought the park was some kind of temple of nature; I was just nervous. But since it was already out of my mouth, I defended it like I was an old woman shaking her fist at scamps and ne’er-do-wells, snatching the portfolio out of his hand to emphasize my righteous anger. But he wasn’t fazed.
    â€œDid you see it?” he asked, herding me toward the edge of the walkway with his too-tall body as a group of medical students passed.
    â€œUmm, you mean ‘bloom?’ I think the entire city saw it.”
    Joy flashed through his eyes, but he blinked a few times with miles of dark lashes and sobered up. “You’re the only one who knows.”
    â€œI doubt that. What about your little revolutionary art collective, Discord?”
    He shook his head. “I don’t belong to Discord.”
    â€œThat’s not what people are saying online.”
    â€œWell, they’re wrong. I work alone, and no one knows who I am.”
    Huh. Funny, but I sort of believed him. Or maybe I had a case of temporary hot-boy-influenced na ï vet é .
    â€œScout’s honor,” he promised. “Only you hold my secret identity in your hands, Lois Lane.”
    Do not be flattered. Do not be flattered.… “But not your real one.”
    â€œYou know more than I know about you.”
    I ignored that. “What are you doing here, anyway?”
    â€œYou said you had another meeting today and that it was before Dr. Sheridan’s lecture, so I checked the schedules and guessed the wrong one.” He scratched his head in a way that would’ve been adorable if he wasn’t an admitted criminal. “I’ve been waiting around here for the last two hours. But now that I see you again, it was worth it.”
    Was he serious? I tried to form a snappy answer, but it came out as one long, strangled vowel. To make things worse, heat crept up my cheeks, so I turned away from him and strode down the cement walkway like I was full of Grand Purpose, not like I was running away. But it didn’t matter. Long legs always beat short legs, so it was no surprise when he caught up in a couple of steps.
    â€œI dig the dark-rimmed glasses,” he said alongside me, stuffing his hands into his jacket pockets. “They give you a sexy scientist vibe.”
    â€œArtist vibe,” I countered without looking at him. And I’d only traded out my contacts that