“I see where you’re going with it. I sympathized with each person and what they must be feeling. And none of the photos are happy. That was the connection between the pictures I chose.”
“Good. That’s good.” His fingers grazed the top of my knee for the briefest of moments, but it was enough to send a blaze of fire straight to my core. “But I don’t think you’re going to win with this. Or at least with all of these photos. You might be able to keep one or two and then add a few more that really drill into the specific mood that brings out the sympathy. Now, next question. What are your thoughts on photo editing?”
“I’ve been playing around with Photoshop at school, but I haven’t done anything other than play around with the lighting and contrast. Things like that.”
“Good. Editing photography is one of those gray areas. They would probably prefer no editing at all, but you can get away with that little bit. Especially if it makes for a more dramatic composition. What you don’t want to do is compromise the integrity of the picture so much, the final product is not recognizable compared to the original.”
We spent the rest of the class period going over little details and talking through some potential themes. He even pulled up some of his favorite exhibits he’d seen in museums to discuss them with me.
The bell rang before I was ready. In the last hour, I connected with Thatcher on a level I never had before with anyone else. We shared a passion and it was exhilarating to hold an in-depth conversation about different concepts and techniques. It might have been his extensive knowledge or his feverish excitement that built the longer we were together.
I packed my laptop and stood up, stretching. The cheesy smile on my face felt like it was a permanent fixture, but I didn’t care. He understood the art side of me. “Are you sure you don’t want to study photography?” My mind went back to the day I met him.
He held a hand out for me to walk in front of him. There wasn’t a lot I knew about Thatcher, but the little I did was pointing to him being a gentleman. Well… most of the time.
“I’m sure.” The smile in his voice warmed his words until they were like sweet honey pouring over me. “I enjoyed the photography classes I took, but painting is my passion. There’s something so addictive about shaping and sculpting a beautiful piece with your hands and your mind.”
Visions of his hands running over my body assaulted me, and my body temperature rose twenty degrees. I was sure that wasn’t what he meant but I couldn’t get the images out of my head. It was fortunate I was walking in front so he couldn’t see the thoughts written all over my face. Hell, probably my neck and chest too. When I blushed, it tended to turn into a full body affair.
“I’d love to see some of your work sometime.” What was I doing? I had never been so forward before, but my curiosity wouldn’t die until I had an insight into Thatcher’s soul by way of his artwork. Wasn’t that what art was? A window to the artist’s soul, baring all of their hopes, dreams, and fears?
His arm shot out and pushed the door just as I was raising my own. The fabric of his rough, plaid shirt rubbed against the back of my arm as we stepped through the door, in an odd intimacy.
Thatcher gently caught my wrist and turned me to face him. We were standing in the middle of the hallway, blocking the entrance to the library with students swarming around us. They were blurry movements of color as I gazed at Thatcher, as if I focused on him through the lens of my Nikon.
“I can do better than that. Why don’t you come watch me paint this weekend? I usually use one of the studios at the college when I really want to work on something. You can’t beat the set up. At least I can’t on a student budget.” He grinned one dimple popped.
I nearly swooned where I stood.
“I… I think I’d love that. Depending on the time, I should be able to swing it.” Or sneak out more likely, but I didn’t want to share that with the handsome college student. It might have reminded him I was so much younger than he was.
“Great. Let’s exchange numbers.” He reached in his back pocket to grab his phone.
I went for mine, right as gross, nasty river water cascaded over my head.
I gasped, stunned, not sure what happened. Thatcher stood frozen with his mouth open.
Glancing down, two medium sized, pink and brownish green fish flopped around on the floor, clearly as upset as I was about their world being turned upside down.
Someone just poured fish water on me, and they cackled behind me.
“What. The. Fuck.” Thatcher snarled and darted around me.
Laughing. Laughing and gasping. Squeals and the well-known sound of the camera phone shutter.
Those were the competing sounds surrounding me. I wanted to shout and rage at the crowd to let them know this wasn’t funny. It wasn’t funny.
Instead, I watched the fish flail around the floor until they lost their bounce and their movements steadily slowed. Tears filled my eyes as I listened to people laugh and take pictures, not caring about the poor fish that suffocated on the dirty floor of the hallway. Kind of like me. I couldn’t breathe; I was suffocating like those two small fish. But they were done. They didn’t have to worry about people or predators anymore. At least they had that bittersweet peace.
Not like me. Sooner or later, I’d have to look away from the floor. To look up and see my tormentors’ faces. They might not have been the ones to do this to me, but their excitement fed into the satisfaction of the twitch bitches. Because they were behind this. They had to be.
“Get away! You fucking people are worse than scum. There’s nothing to see here.” Hands gripped my shoulders and I was pulled against a hard chest. I closed my eyes as silent tears tracked down my face, although you’d never know it from the water dumped over my head.
“Shhh. It’s okay.” The scent of pine and bergamot with a slight smoky tang swirled around me. A hand petted the back of my head and I let this person comfort me. Too bad the person holding me would also smell like fish.
“Let’s get out of here. I’m usually against skipping, but I think this calls for a break.” A rough finger slid under my chin and tipped my head up. Dark hazel eyes seared me with their intensity. Jonah’s mouth was set in a severe frown as he examined me. It was too much, he was seeing too much, so I jerked my chin back, breaking his hold.
He was probably gauging my sanity. I hated to tell him that it died on the floor with the fish. Oh look, he was standing on the tail of one.
“Move your foot,” I mumbled through a sniff.
“What?” He sounded incredulous.
“The fish.”
“What?” Jonah had no idea what I was telling him and I lacked the energy to give him any more words.
“Man, you’re standing on a fish.” Rhys stopped behind Jonah, his jaw clenched so hard, the muscles in his cheek popped out in stark relief.
“Fuck,” Jonah cursed and shifted to the left without letting go of me.
“Those twats got away.” Thatcher wheezed from behind me. I couldn’t see him, but I imagined he was holding his side, from how out of breath he sounded.
“Who?” Rhys packed so much anger into that one word, it would have smashed through the wall if it were a physical thing.
“Bunch of punk ass kids.” He moved around so I could see him.
I was right. He was holding his side.
“Let’s get out of here. Astrid deserves a break.” Jonah stroked the length of my hair as a few strands caught on a callous.
Silence fell as the three guys studied each other. They weren’t friends, and they hadn’t really known each other before the other day, I thought anyway. But now we were going to skip together. At least Rhys, Jonah, and me. Thatcher was along for the ride.
“Are you sure you can do that? You might burst into flames when you break a school rule.” Rhys quirked an eyebrow, but his words were teasing instead of mean.
Jonah sneered without any heat. “Fuck off.”
I had calmed down enough t
hat I let my gaze wander outside my three protectors, but we were alone. Not another horrid soul still lingered in the hallway. Which brought up another thought.
“Where are the teachers?”
Rhys and Jonah exchanged a look before they both sighed heavily, almost in sync with each other. That was slightly eerie.
Rhys clenched his fists and answered. “They don’t interfere when the twitch bitches set out to ruin someone. They never have, and even if you went to them, they wouldn’t take any action. Ashley’s dad is the superintendent.”
Wonderful. Wonderfully awful for me.
I looked up to Jonah, who still held me close. “I’m ready to leave.”
He waited a beat, then unwound his arms and snagged my hand to lead me out of the school. Both Rhys and Thatcher followed.
It was weird. I was completely humiliated and weirdly exhausted, but with these guys at my back, I didn’t feel alone. In fact. I felt like I was a part of something important. Which was odd, since we knew nothing of importance about any of us.
In the parking lot, Rhys pointed out my car and Thatcher extracted me from Jonah when we reached Freda. I dug through my bag, reliving the last ten minutes all over again when I felt the dampness of the water inside my backpack. Where my laptop was. I guessed it was a boon that I kept the camera bag over my shoulder. The case felt waterproof, but I’d have to check it in the car. Thatcher took the keys out of my hand and shuffled me to the passenger side. He apparently wanted the honors of bundling me into Freda.
“Let’s go to my place. I can drive her if one of you guys can drop me back off later?” Thatcher buckled me in and closed my door before he faced the other two.
I immediately pulled my laptop out as I strained to hear the quiet whispering, but Freda was really good at muffling outside sound. Wait a minute. I could crack the window. Nope, too late, the guys had already broken up and Thatcher was rounding Freda to get in to the driver’s side.
“You okay?” He didn’t look at me and I didn’t know if that was because he was learning a new car or trying to make me feel more at ease.
“Yeah,” I croaked. “It’s like I’m having an out of body experience but I’m starting to feel more like myself.”
“People can be cruel. It doesn’t say anything about you. It’s about them and having small dicks.”
I took off the outer layer of my shirt and tossed it in the backseat since it was soaked, and picked up an old dry shirt. The laptop escaped any major wetness, but I still used the shirt to wipe it off. When I opened it, the keyboard was dry and the password screen popped up. Thank God.
“I take it the ones that dumped the water on my head were guys?”
“Yeah,” he grunted.
I studied his profile as he drove, appearing to be as comfortable as I was in Freda. “They were put up to this by those girls. You know that, right?”
“I know. But they were still weak enough to get talked into it. Either they thought the girls would put out if they did what they asked, or they enjoy messing with people. Both make them dickheads.”
I guffawed without meaning to and he flicked his eyes my way.
“What?” he asked.
I shook my head. “You can’t talk about girls putting out.”
A cocky smile spread across his face. “I don’t have to trade favors to get head. The ladies love me for my shining personality.”
“I bet it has nothing to do with you being hot.” I laughed again and then my words sunk in. I told him he was hot while I sat soaked in fish juice. For a second, I desperately wished I could crawl under a rock, but then… screw it. He was hot, and I was covered in dirty fish water, but so what. He treated me like a normal person regardless, and it was kind of addicting.
“Where’s your place at?” I adjusted the vents and turned the air on to start drying off.
“By the college. It’s not much. A small two-bedroom apartment off of Colfax, but it’s all I need.” He smoothed his hands over the steering wheel, almost unconsciously as if he needed to constantly move his hands.
“So not with your mom and dad?” The motion of his hands hypnotized me.
“Nope.”
“Lucky.” I laughed, but really, I was serious on the inside. He was now my real-life role model. If he was over twenty-one, I’d be shocked. Twenty-one and no parents. If luck were really on my side I would be eighteen and living on my own. As much as dorm living was on my own.
“Don’t wish it away. Bills, cleaning, laundry,” he made a sour face and I laughed. “It’s not the dream you’re thinking it is.”
“Maybe, maybe not. I’m ready for a change and I’ve never minded laundry.” It was like a bright, shiny light bulb popped into existence and blinded me with its light. I had a crazy, little slip of an idea. “Two bedrooms? You don’t need a roommate, do you? I solemnly swear to do all your laundry. And pay rent.” I looked down to my mostly dry lap and muttered to myself. “Although, I’d need to get a job.”
He took my hand in his and gave a short squeeze before going back to the wheel. Dang, that felt like an apology.
“Sorry, Astrid. My little sister uses the room most of the time.” He sounded sorry, like he hated letting me down.
He shouldn’t have felt that way. He didn’t know me, didn’t owe me anything. I saw a possibility and asked about it. But I should have figured he had a roommate or something like that.
“Hey, it’s fine. Is your sister in college with you?” Would she be there when we got to his place? She was probably cool like Thatcher, but after my run in with the twitch bitches, a small seed of fear had taken root in the pit of my stomach. I would be walking into his place smelling like I followed in Jonah’s footsteps.
Not the Jonah following us. Jonah from the Bible who spent three days and nights inside the big fish before getting spat out.
He cleared his throat as if he was uncomfortable with my question. Odd. He seemed so self-assured every time I’d seen him. The change in behavior brought out the need to comfort him, but we weren’t to that point in our friendship, if we ever would be.
“Our dad’s not the best company, so she crashes with me whenever she can.”
If I was reading in between the lines, that probably meant all the time. Which shed a new light on why he was hooking up in the closet. He wouldn’t want little sis to hear his sexcapades in the apartment. Especially if it was small and crowded.
“That’s really awesome of you. I’ve never really cared about being an only child or gave it much thought, but now I wish I had a big brother too. She’s really lucky to have you.” And I meant that. Thatcher had to really love her to have her in his space all the time.
He shrugged and fidgeted with the radio, finding an alternative station to fill the empty silence. That was the end of our conversation and get to know you session. Disappointment speared through me. The conversation had taken my mind off my problems—mostly—and it was nice to chat to a cute boy in a car. It was a bit of a novelty for me.
I turned my attention to the passenger window, counting cars as they passed us. In the rearview mirror I could see Jonah’s old beater directly behind us and Rhys’ slick SUV behind him. Why were they all coming? Why did they even care for that matter?
I appreciated the support, and I couldn’t lie to myself that it didn’t make me feel like I truly had someone on my side. Only, bullying was a thing now. So many forms that affected so many people. What made me so special that these guys who didn’t know each other, surrounded me?
Before I knew it, Thatcher was pulling into the parking lot of an old brownstone apartment building. It was a sketch area, and there was a questionable guy on the corner of the gas station who had a fear of grooming, but to me, it was perfect. It was freedom.
“We’re here.” Thatcher threw Freda in park, and as I climbed out of the passenger seat I made a face as my pants peeled from the seat. This was a good time to be grateful my old car at least had leather seats.
It was weird
the way we all gelled together. No words were needed as we filed in and climbed two staircases to Thatcher’s apartment. It was an old building with no elevator, with brittle leaves and paper trash in the stairwell. I certainly couldn’t judge him for having what I so desperately wanted. And I loved that Jonah and Rhys hadn’t said anything or given any sign that they cared either.
Rhys could have turned out to be an arrogant prick if he wanted to be. He had the house, the family, and the money. Jonah though, if Beck could be believed and I did believe him, probably lived very similar.
Everyone stopped and waited patiently for Thatcher to open the scuffed door. Once inside, Thatcher walked to the kitchen and opened the fridge. I slipped off my shoes and surveyed the place. It was small, as I figured it would be. But it was neat and though I couldn’t really say it was decorated, there were a few pictures of Thatcher and a girl. I left the guys at the door and went to the wall where a collection of framed pictures peppered the wall. The girl had dark hair and eyes identical to Thatcher. If I hadn’t known she was younger, I would have thought they were twins.
Where Thatcher was calm and content, like the surface of a lake at sunrise, his sister was forceful and vivacious, like the waves crashing and lapping against the shore at sunset. That was the funny thing about pictures, you could gain so much about a person from the way they smiled or held their body, even down to the way she interacted with the people or things around her.
“That’s Trinity.” Thatcher said over my shoulder. He was so close, his body heat soaked into my back.
Which reminded me, I was still sopping and gross.
“Do you mind if I change into something and use your washer and dryer?” I spun, careful not to touch him or get fish juice on the pictures by accidentally touching them.
“Yeah, you can borrow something of Trinity’s. I don’t have a washer or dryer though.” He winced and stepped back. “We use the ones in the basement for tenants. I can throw your stuff in if you want.”
I nodded. Anything was better than staying in wet clothes.
Pretty Lies: A contemporary YA Romance (Astrid Scott Series Book 1) Page 19