I could see them – the shapes of color. The rounded triangle of dark green against the blue rectangle. A distorted purple line stretched across the brown arc at the base. I wanted so bad to get my paints out and get to it, but class was over. The others hurried off, not caring that he’d let out early. I hung back, absorbing the atmosphere, until my lamp was the only one still lit. I could hear Mr. Chavez talking to someone in the foyer outside, but it was only a distant rumble.
I looked up to the sky light and breathed out a thank you to the heavenly being who had led me here. I found the switch on the lamp and turned off the golden beam with a click, plunging the room into a dim landscape with weird shapes and expectant, waiting silence.
Out in the hall, Mr. Chavez was talking to Jake. I paused, jolted by the sight of him, and then our eyes met. Sparks burst in my chest, and I forced myself to get moving again. Where did that come from? I mean, I had a boyfriend. A good looking, well-muscled, athletic, cool boyfriend. And while Nick wasn’t an art teacher or tall, or… charismatic, darn it, I really liked him.
Still trying to figure this out, it took a moment to realize Jake was walking behind me. When I did, I turned and asked, “What?”
So maybe that wasn’t my most polite moment ever.
“I was just going to ask if you wanted a ride home. I noticed you walking today.”
I shifted awkwardly, wanting to both run and stay. “My keys are lost.”
“Come on then. I’m about to go home and my car is right across the street.”
“No thanks.”
“I just think it’s stupid for you to walk when we’re going the same way.”
He strode down the hall towards where I knew his office was, and for some reason, I waited. He was back in no time, and a short walk later, we reached his old blue pick-up. Though rust spots dotted the paint job like freckles, it was built in a time when they made things to last. It would have looked right at home on the ranch.
“How’d your painting class go?” He asked, starting the engine.
“You don’t have to make small talk,” I said, then pressed my lips tightly, appalled at myself. But I couldn’t be friends with this guy.
“Whoa. Testy.”
“Sorry. I don’t know why I said that. Class was great. I just need to know once and for all if I’m good enough for this. I’ve given myself to the end of the semester to decide if I’m going to finish my art degree or change to something more practical.”
“That’s a lot of pressure to put on yourself. And what will be the deciding factor? Grades? Because I can tell you this, grading art is a subjective thing.”
“I don’t know. I guess I’ll figure it out at the end of the semester.”
“You know, my grandma is an incredible artist and she’s been at it for most of her life, but she still hates two out of every three paintings she starts.”
“Wow. Your grandma is an artist? Does it run in your family or something?”
He chuckled. “No. It’s just me and her out of the whole clan. It’s one of the reasons we’re so close.”
“I’d love to see her work.”
“Awesome. She wants to meet you.”
My mouth fell open. “You talked to her about me?”
Jake shifted his hands on the wheel as he made a right turn. “I may have mentioned you. Would you like to meet her sometime?”
And then a crystal-clear feeling of something falling into place swept over me. The cracked dashboard in front of me, the faint whiff of diesel, the way the sun glinted off Jake’s watch. All of it felt right, like this had all happened before. Chill bumps rushed over my arms. “I’d love to,” I said, hoping this had more to do with his grandma than with him.
Chapter Eight
Jake
Thrilled that the first week of classes was finally over, I walked into my classroom late Friday afternoon, planning to get some design work done before I went to Grams’ house to do some lawn work for her. I halted in the doorway, however, when I saw Lauren. She was seated at one of the work tables, her head bent over her sketchbook.
“I thought everyone had gone home.”
Raising her head sharply, she saw me and took out her earbuds. “Is it okay if I’m in here?”
“Sure. I was just surprised. Usually no one hangs around on a Friday.”
“Mr. Rossi assigned a ton of work in our sketchbooks and I’m afraid if I don’t do it now, I won’t get it done. Nick wants to go to a movie later.”
At the mention of Nick, a shade of annoyance marred my good mood, but I didn’t let it show in my voice. “What about the rest of the weekend?”
She sighed and untied the bandana around her head. As she smoothed it out and retied it, she said, “I’ve only lived here a week, but I know what it will be like. Fifty different people dropping by, an impromptu party, or Beth coming into my room to talk. I’ll never get anything done.”
Chuckling, I set my laptop down on the table in front of her, sitting so I faced her. “Tell Beth to leave you alone.”
“No way. She’s so nice.”
“She’s a nosy chatterbox,” I said.
She grinned at me. “That too.”
“Well, I don’t care if you stay, but I hope you don’t mind if I work for a while too.”
She picked up her graphite pencil again, but asked, “What? Don’t you have a hot date tonight?”
“Uh, no.”
“Why not?”
“Because I have plans with my grandma,” I said, grinning at her.
She laughed. “Awww. Aren’t you sweet?”
Wiggling my eyebrows, I just smiled and got to work. Lauren popped her earbuds back in and we both worked for an hour without talking. But the whole time I worked, I was hyper-aware of her. Every time she shifted, tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, or turned a page in her sketchbook, it drew my attention.
Finished with my work, but not wanting to leave, I got up and walked over to her. “Can I see?”
Her eyes widened and she shook her head.
“Come on. What good is being an artist if you don’t show it to people?”
“I’m not an artist yet,” she said, her voice deep with self-derision. But, to my surprise, she pushed her sketchbook toward me.
Flipping through the pages, I realized her homework was to copy drawings from the book of human figure drawings on the table in front of her. She’d been drawing torsos, both front and back. They weren’t perfect, looking flat instead of round with three dimensions. But her proportions were good, and there was a free-flowing quality to the lines.
“Well?” she asked.
“They’re good. You should focus on increasing the contrast on these and they’ll be better.”
She tipped her head sideways, considering them with me. “Okay. Thanks.”
Even though her words were perfectly polite, there was a note of tension in her voice. I closed the sketchbook and turned to face her. She was only a few inches away, but she didn’t step back.
“Taking critique is hard, huh?”
She nodded. “Yeah.”
“Tell you what—return the favor. I just finished a logo for a client—a gourmet ice cream company in Wisconsin. Come tell me what you think.”
She followed me over to my computer and I pulled the design up in full screen. She looked it over with sharp concentration. Just when I started to get nervous, she said, “As much as I’d love to find something you can improve, I can’t. This is awesome. I love the mint green and chocolate color scheme.”
“Thanks,” I said, feeling a surge of warmth at her praise.
Still looking at it, she said, “Actually, what would it look like if the letters were spaced further apart?”
After a few seconds of considering this, I sat down, deciding to try it. As I worked, she put her hand on the table and leaned over my shoulder to watch. Her clean, lightly floral scent washed over me, and I could feel the warmth radiating off her skin. I had to wrench my attention away from
how close she was and back to the work at hand.
I made a few adjustments and asked, “How about that?”
“See? Isn’t that better?”
“Yes.” Thrilled with the improvement, I turned toward her, and my arm brushed hers. She straightened quickly and pulled her arm away. “Sorry,” I said, quietly.
“No, don’t worry about it. It didn’t bother me. I was just surprised.” Then she laughed. “Which is stupid after the way you were manhandling me in the pool that one day.”
“I wasn’t manhandling you. I was just trying to get an answer to my question.”
“By drowning me?”
“By not letting you get away.” The words hung oddly in the air between us.
“Do you still want to know?” she asked softly.
“Know what?”
“What Natalie told me about you.”
“Not particularly.” My voice came out cooler than I intended.
Her brows drew together, but she didn’t push the matter. Instead, she sighed and said, “I’d better get going.”
While she walked over and put her books in her backpack, I put my computer in its case. We walked out the front door together, into the hot afternoon. Moving from the air conditioning into a sauna was always a shock.
Lauren groaned. “When you look out of the windows, it looks so nice and cool under these big shade trees. Then you go outside and it’s not.”
I wasn’t sure, but I suspected Lauren was talking to cover the awkward end of our conversation. I was surprised that she kept walking next to me even when she could have easily gone ahead or fallen behind. Did it feel as natural to her as it did to me?
When we got to the edge of the parking lot, she stopped and said, “I guess I’ll see you later.”
“Where are you parked?”
“Oh, I walked today.”
“Still haven’t found your keys?”
She laughed. “No, I found them. Would you believe they were in the ignition?”
“It’s a good thing no one stole your car.”
“That piece of junk? They’d bring it back if they did.”
I chuckled and asked, “So why are you walking then?”
“I needed some exercise. I’m not used to all this sitting around.”
Nodding toward my truck, I said, “I can give you a ride again.”
Lauren looked down and kicked at a dandelion that hung over the edge of the pavement. “Thanks, but I won’t bother you.”
“It’s no trouble.”
“Aren’t you on your way to see your grandma? Besides…” she paused, her eyes flashing to my face, “Someone might see and get the wrong impression.”
“Ah,” I said. “Would that be such a big deal?”
She nodded. “Yeah, I think it would be. Natalie is probably home. She might read something into it.”
“Ah.”
We looked at each other for a few seconds before she took a deep breath and said, “Okay. I’ll see you around.”
“Bye,” I called after her, forcing myself to head for my truck.
Chapter Nine
Lauren
There was no reason why I needed to go work in Jake’s classroom today. After that first time, I’d gone back on Monday and the next two days as well. Even with the time we spent talking and critiquing each other’s work, I got a lot of work done. Unfortunately, that meant I was completely caught up in all of my classes.
As I walked across campus and into the art building with no real reason for being there, I was forced to face the truth. I wasn’t coming here to study. I liked being around him.
Jake was smart, talented, and kept me laughing. We were becoming good friends, despite our awkward start. But there was something dangerous about the way my mood improved so drastically when I thought about seeing him. Worse still was the way my heart fluttered when I actually saw him and he smiled like he was genuinely glad to see me. Mere friendship wasn’t supposed to make you feel that way. Especially when you had a boyfriend.
Instead of heading for Jake’s classroom, I turned toward the exit that faced the parking lot. As I walked past the bulletin board, a sign caught my eye. A surge of excitement shot through me as I saw it was a notice for a job opening in the art department. They needed a studio assistant. As I read the responsibilities for the position, I knew it was exactly what I’d been looking for. My small stash of money was rapidly dwindling and I desperately needed to get a job. I had enough to pay rent for the semester, but I needed money for food and gas.
Determined to apply the next day, I left in a sunnier mood. Just as I was getting into my car, my phone rang. It was Natalie.
“What’s up?” I asked, putting my key in the ignition.
“Are you still at school?” she asked.
“I’m leaving now.”
“No!” Her voice blasted through the phone.
I pulled my phone away, annoyed. Switching the phone to the other side, I rubbed my ear, hoping it would stop ringing soon. “Thanks for making me deaf.”
“Sorry. But you can’t leave yet. I need you to do me a favor.”
“What?”
“Go over to the art building and see if Jake is still there. I want to take him a surprise, but I need to know where to take it.”
“Okay, but even if he’s there, how will I know how long he’s planning to stay?”
She was quiet for a second, then said, “I don’t know.”
“I could just ask him.”
“No. It’ll be suspicious if my roommate goes and randomly talks to him. He’ll guess something is up.”
Annoyance clawed at me. I wanted to inform her that he wouldn’t think it was weird at all since we hung out after school every day. But I couldn’t, because then she would know I talked to him all the time.
“So, you want me to go spy on him?”
“Yes. Okay, call me as soon as you can.”
She hung up and I scowled at my phone. I jerked my keys out of the ignition, and slammed the door when I got out. This was so stupid.
Walking back to the art building, I hoped Jake would be gone. Just thinking about calling Natalie and telling her that it wasn’t going to work would make me so happy. But then I realized what a terrible, jealous friend that would make me. So then, my conscience pricked at me like a thorn.
This time of day, everything was usually quiet and empty, so I was surprised to hear voices from Jake’s classroom. I ran past the door, knowing I’d only be able to see into the room from the other side, then pressed myself to the wall. Leaning slightly into the open doorway, I looked through and saw Jake sitting in his usual spot with his back to me. But I froze when I realized the girl talking to him was a pretty student with blue hair and shorty shorts on.
He leaned back in his chair with his hands behind his head, completely at ease while she hopped up on the table opposite him and crossed her long, bare legs. Straightening, I left, not caring in the least if he heard me walking.
Good to know he wouldn’t miss me today.
Angrier than I’d been before, I pulled out my phone to call Natalie. Knowing that my anger was completely irrational did nothing to make me feel better.
When Natalie answered, I said, “He’s in his classroom. Looks like he’ll be there for a while.”
“Perfect. Uh…where’s his classroom?”
Resisting the urge to grind my teeth, I told her how to find his classroom, wished her luck, and hung up. And I really did wish her luck, because if anything would put blue-hair girl in her place, it would be my model-perfect friend dropping in to see Jake. Her legs were nothing on Natalie’s.
By the time I got home, I was surprised to see Natalie still there. She was running frantically around the kitchen, filling a picnic basket.
“Oh, there you are,” she said. “Have you seen the strawberries I bought yesterday?”
Rolling my eyes, I walked over to the fridge and dug around until I found them.
“Great,” she said w
hen I waved them in front of her face. “Would you be a darling and wash them for me?”
Taking a deep breath to calm myself, I said, “Sure. But I’m going to eat some of them as my fee.”
“Whatever. Just not the big, pretty ones.”
Turning on the water, I whispered, “We wouldn’t want Jake to eat ugly strawberries, would we?”
Then a guy’s voice said, “You’d better hurry or you’re going to miss him.”
I nearly jumped out of my skin. “Nick! I didn’t know you were here.”
He grinned at me. “I was over on the couch. I rented a movie. We can watch it as soon as Natalie gets out of here.”
“Um. Okay.”
I handed Natalie the strawberries, which she carefully arranged on a napkin in a plastic container. She added it to her basket, and smoothed back a few strands of hair. “How do I look?”
“Gorgeous,” I said. And with her leaf green sundress, smooth red curls, and flawless makeup, she really was.
“Great,” she said. “Gotta go.”
She flew out the front door and I watched her leave, wishing I could both see what happened when she got there and wishing I could forget all about it.
“Finally,” Nick said. “Come on, babe. Let’s get the movie going.”
“I’m going to grab something to eat first.” I looked in the fridge and considered my options. I could cook my last egg or have peanut butter and jelly again. Trying not to think about how much better the egg would be on top of some of my mom’s stacked enchiladas, I cooked it in a tiny dollop of butter and laid it over a piece of dry toast. I added the three tiny, misshapen strawberries I’d taken from Natalie to my plate. So appetizing.
When I joined Nick in the living room, I saw that he was eating the last of a sub sandwich. I stared at the wrapper which was sprinkled with bits of lettuce. It had been a foot-long, no doubt about it.
“Is that all you’re eating?” he asked as I sat down.
“Yes,” I said, my voice sounding short even to me.
“I’ll never understand how girls can survive on so little.”
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