Focusing back on my sketch pad, I shade in the spot where Henry's dimple appears when he smirks. Then I go back to staring at him for a beat too long, thinking about how lucky I am that Michael apparently favors his mother. Because if he looked anything like his daddy, there's no way we could be friends. It'd get way too awkward. Henry Benton is F-I-N-E—fine. With a capital F.
