* * *
She finally had enough of me, and started yelling out insults and curse words as she shoved me out the door. I had no idea what her problem was (I found myself saying this a lot, to other people, to myself…), she did say to just come in if I needed anything for the site, and I did.
First I wanted to know which fonts she wanted to use for some of the headers. She waved her hand, handed me the thumb drive with all the company’s fonts and closed the door behind me. If she flashed me the middle finger in the middle of it, I didn’t notice. Just kidding. I did.
Ten minutes later, I needed to ask for a high-res copy of their company logo. I could have sworn that Bea pushed aside a broomstick and a cauldron while she went hunting for a hard drive. Then the door slammed behind me just a little bit louder than before.
“What are you guys doing?” I finally asked, walking into the studio. Claudia was nursing a hangover, buried behind her desk in her sunglasses and possibly the biggest tumbler of water that I’ve ever seen.
Bea was standing in front of a large white wall, which I could barely see because of the number of things she’d hung up on it with tape and Blu-tack. She turned to me with surprise across her face, her face framed by her art. There were wallpapers, flowers, prints, and postcards all hung up with sticky notes on them. She was probably narrowing down their portfolio for Liberty.
I’ve had dreams like this before; I will admit that. I’ve had dreams where she and I would visit galleries and studios and see the art together, smiling and holding hands. Time slowed when she turned to me, and I was pretty sure my breath catching was involuntary.
But then the moment was over, and her face was already twisted in that look of rage that I was now all too familiar with. I wanted to groan.
“What do you want?” She let the words out through gritted teeth, placing a hand on her hip.
What did I want?
“Nothing,” I finally admitted. “I was just— “
“Then get out of here!” She yelled, shooing me with her hands.
“See, I don’t know what I did to deserve this hostility,” I said, feeling bold as I stepped further into the room. A vein on her forehead actually appeared, and oh my god it was LOOKING AT ME.
“If you don’t know, then I can’t help you, can I?” She asked, slamming her hands over my chest and shoving me backwards quite hard. Ow, she's strong. I wonder what she would be like in—GOD. Don't even go there, Padua. Be-have. Your. Self.
At this point Claudia woke up and yelled for the both of us to get out while she tried to regain consciousness. If Bea was terrifying, Claudia was like something out of a haunted house with her pale skin, bloodshot eyes and blonde hair flying up in every direction. I didn’t need to be told twice, and was out the door with Bea hot on my heels.
Now what were we going to do?
“I’m going to Serenity 3 for frozen hot chocolate,” she declared, looping her purse over her shoulder. I opened my mouth slightly in shock. Was that…was that an invitation? Was Bea actually handing me an olive branch? “Don’t follow me.”
Ah.
Then she slammed the door of the store behind her, leaving me to wander the stationery store by myself. I could always go back to work, I mean, I was supposed to go over the collections that Claudia and Bea wanted on the site—but really, I was too agitated to settle down. I meandered over to the bookshelf, realizing that one of the books was actually a university yearbook. I was just about to grab it from the shelf when I saw Don and Hiro walk into the shop and make a beeline for the studio. It seemed like they didn't notice my presence.
What? Hiro had begged off of going to the studio today because he, like Claudia, had the hangover of the century (or so he had claimed). The only hangover he seemed to have was one for Claudia, which, yuck. I never thought I would see the day when Hiro, the dude who would rather follow me to certain death than chase a skirt, became a lovesick puppy. I never knew what Don was up to, but I was pretty sure that coming to the studio wasn’t on his agenda for the day. He usually mingled with clients on only two occasions—the start and the end of each project.
Claudia’s blonde head popped out of the studio door (miraculously recovered from her hangover?) and ducked back inside, leaving the door just slightly ajar behind her. What the hell was going on?
I edged towards the studio door, which was basically a few planks of wood on a rolling thing. I could hear everything that was going on inside.
“Are you sure you heard it right?” Don asked first, panic and alarm rising in his tone. “Did Bea really say that she was in love with Ben?”
WHAT?????
In my panic, I dropped the yearbook that I was holding, and the three didn’t seem to hear it. I clapped my hand over my mouth to stifle the yell of pain as the book had fallen on top of my big toe. Oh my god. Oh my GOD. OW.
“Yeah, I’m a hundred percent sure she said it,” Claudia confirmed, her voice twittering in excitement. I failed to see why this was good news for anyone. “I mean, I had her tell me twice, and she wasn’t drunk at all! Bea is totally in love with Ben!”
Or she was having an aneurysm. It was completely within the realm of possible scenarios happening in this universe. But this is Claudia sharing the news, Claudia who would never hurt a fly or lie to save her life. If her brother wasn’t so allergic she would have adopted all the stray cats she came across, she was that nice. She was a Disney Princess come to life, and she never lied, so why would she lie about this? Oh my god, oh my god…
“But that’s great, isn’t it?” Don asked, pulling me back into the conversation. “I mean, I thought she hated him, but apparently not?”
“It’s not great at all!” Claudia protested, and now her voice bordered on hysterical. “You guys, this isn’t great at all! I know her. She’s never going to tell him how she feels, and I swear to god, last night she was CRYING because she knew she would never be able to tell him!”
“Crying?” Don asked, and I clapped my hand over my mouth again and stumbled forward, making the door rattle loudly. Thank god they didn’t seem to notice. “Why would she be crying over it?”
“Well we all know Ben,” Hiro piped up, always the voice of reason in a conversation. Here he is, ready to defend my honor. I was really lucky to have a best friend in him, that man would jump into a lake full of serpents if I was drowning, and I would do the same for him.
“He laughs at the idea of true love. If Bea ever told him he would just make fun of her, wouldn’t he?”
Screw it. The next time Hiro goes swimming in a lake I would much rather leave him with the serpents. Et tu, Brutus?
“He would, he definitely would, and that’s why she can’t do anything but lash out at him for making her feel the way she does!” Claudia was speaking so fast I almost didn’t catch what she said. But I got the gist.
“Well, I think it was smart of her not to say anything,” Don agreed. “Ben is one of my closest buddies, but he will never understand how great Bea is. And she will just have to suffer love because the one she loves is too stupid to see it."
"Ben should do some thinking, because Bea could be the best thing that ever happened to him," Hiro finished.
There was a beat of silence, and I swear I could hear my heart filling in every moment with a wild, frenzied thump. I could hear them talking about leaving the room, and I did the most sensible thing I could think to do—I bolted. I ran out of the store and on to the street, stopping only when I felt my legs spasm. But even as I bent over and wheezed, I still couldn't catch my breath.
Bea was.... Bea was in love with me? That was impossible. Had Claudia not seen the way she literally shoved me just a few minutes ago? The way she had a comeback for every little thing I said? Surely she didn’t miss the way Bea’s nostrils flared whenever I came within a five-foot radius of her.
What the hell was I supposed to feel? I mean, I know I never was the kind of guy that liked girls a lot. Love was a four-letter word that always eluded
me. I had never been in love, and my only brushes with the concept were brief and ended before they became anything more.
But what about Bea? She was different, wasn't she? She had everything that I figured I could live with if pressed to be with someone. Feisty, artistic, vibrant, funny, and most important of all, really loud. I loved that about her.
So was I in love with her because she had all of that? Yeah, probably.
I do love her.
I do.
SHE MUST NEVER KNOW.
I think I may need to pass out now.
"Why are you squatting on the street like that?" Bea's voice suddenly came from behind me. I looked up and I realized I was standing just outside Serendipity 3. I had run the grand total of two blocks. I must have jumped fifty feet in the air, and I was sure I squealed like a little girl. Could she tell? Did being in love with her leave some mark on my face? Did it leave one on her?
"Uhm..." I said, wracking my brain for an excuse, but all I could really think of at the moment was how Beatrice managed to hide her now blatantly obvious love for me. There were signs, from the way she quirked her eyebrow to the frown on her lips. "I... thought I saw a lucky penny," I managed to say.
"Oh," she said, not totally convinced, but totally in love. "Claudia is making me drag you to Old Town tonight. Hiro's going to be there. Coming or not?"
"Er...yeah,” I said. "Yeah, that would be...uh...groovy."
OH GOD SHE KNOWS.
"O-kay," Bea said, turning away from me. "Meet you in the studio at six. If you're late, I'm leaving you."
"See you!" I chirped. This woman was going to be the death of me.
* * *
"I don't know what to do," Hiro groaned, practically hefting his massive, sculpted body over Bea's lap. We were sitting in an ice cream place in Old Town, waiting for our triple sundae to arrive when Hiro had walked in and asked Bea for advice on 'wooing' Claudia. It was one of those rare times when she and I were free, and big ol' Hiro was ruining it. "She's just so...and I'm...but then we...."
"Has he always been this eloquent?" Bea asked, looking at me with an amused smirk. It had been two weeks since our kiss and my near death experience with a carving knife, and we were in that pleasant, ambiguous place where we were together but not really together yet. At least I think we were. But between my work shifts at the bar, school, and the mountain of plates and projects I had to do for class, the only time we ever really got together was during our shared elective. Not that I was falling all over myself without her--we were both totally casual over the whole thing. Today we decided to have ice cream, since we were free. Casual. But what started out as a great evening was now turning into a Hiro sobfest.
"Why don't you just spend time with her?" Bea suggested. "We like that kind of usual, getting to know you sort of thing."
"But I don't want to seem too eager," Hiro groaned. "I don't know; I've never been in love before!"
After we placated Hiro with Claudia’s favorite flowers and date suggestions, Bea and I found ourselves walking along a park by the Potomac River. I was telling her a story about Don, and how he bought the entire bar a drink last night, just to convince me and Hiro that he was a good guy. I wasn't too sure why Don Franco kept wanting to hang out with us, we were just two random bartenders and students, but he'd already asked us to join his fraternity two weeks ago.
"Why do you care so much about what Don thinks of you?" Bea asked, taking my hand and popping the last of her ice cream into her mouth. Naturally I had dropped my cone a few yards ago. You're welcome, squirrels.
"He's a rich guy with connections and friends in high places," I pointed out, wanting to take his side, for some reason. "Call it antiquated, Bea, but connections are pretty important anywhere. Artists especially need to know who they can sell to, where they can host works--Van Gogh is one of the most famous artists in the world, but he died poor, depressed, and miserable because he didn't know the right people. I need him. Don, not Van Gogh. Well maybe Van Gogh."
"Oh, so if he's a jerk, it doesn't matter as long as he introduces you to the right people?" She asked, still holding on to my hand, but I was sure I saw her bristle.
"Yeah," I said, shrugging. "I guess so."
"Don't you think that part of Van Gogh's fame was his struggle?" She asked, blowing stray strands of hair from her face. "We feel more for his work because we know what he went through."
I didn't even miss a beat. "That's all great, but this is the 21st century. Shitty artists make a lot even if they're shitty. People don't care about good art; they care about what other people call good art. You need money to live and paint."
"And to pay for insurance," she added. She didn't at all seem phased by my little criticism of the art world. "Let's face it, you're going to need it, Butterfingers."
"Maybe I should just be a graphic designer and avoid the hazards," I said, waving my hands around to illustrate absolutely nothing. "I'd probably earn more and seem cool."
Much to my surprise, she stopped and laughed. If I were a writer, I would describe how her eyes sparkled with the river lights. But at the moment I was a little confused by it all. I had said too much, I knew it.
Then she kissed me again, and I guess that made honesty the best policy, in our case. She had the kind of kisses that made me flap my arms and float in the air, like in one of those Sunday cartoons I used to watch when I was a kid.
Chapter 5
Beatrice
Two wedding invitations, a mountain of designs to sort through, endless website meetings, and one awkward afternoon with Ben (who kept looking at me oddly, like there was something on my face) later, I had fallen asleep on the couch in the studio. It hadn't been intentional at all, but the next thing I knew, I had a wet painting on my nose, and papers strewn all over me.
I was just about to rise from this mountain of artwork and important documents when I heard Claudia giggling with Ursula and Marga (our intern and a mini-Claudia in every aspect possible) as they came into the studio. I briefly debated rising from the couch slowly or suddenly bolting up to scare them when I heard Ursula speak.
"Er...speaking of, where is Bea?" she asked the general collective, and I found myself lying still under the pile of documents. The pile was so big that they didn’t see me. Claudia loves to joke that my breasts were so big that she usually found them before the rest of me, so for her not to see me lying still under a bunch of papers was nothing short of a miracle. "I feel like karma's going to bite us in the ass for this."
"Oh please, she's used to hearing us call her a... shrew," Marga said, obviously being kind.
"I use the term heinous bitch to her face occasionally, but we can use your word too," Claudia laughed in that girly way of hers. "But seriously guys, I can't believe this."
"Yeah, it is so weird!" Ursula exclaimed, obviously sounding more excited than weirded out. "Are you sure you heard it right? Ben is totally in love with Bea?"
…What?
I was so shocked I nearly rolled off the couch, but I couldn't give away my position! B-but how? I mean...what? How did this even—I mean, when did he…?
"Hiro told me in the strictest confidence," Claudia sighed. If I had known any better I would have thought she was being just a tad overdramatic, but my ears were ringing so hard from their little revelation that I paid little attention to intonations or the way Ursula seemed to halt after every word and say it extra loudly. Even quiet-as-a-mouse Marga was suddenly extra chatty. "It's a little pathetic, really."
"Did he say you could tell her? Is he going to confess his love for her?" Marga asked. "Oooh, is he going to do it with a flashmob? I love a good flashmob!"
"I always kind of thought they would be good together. They say that the only reason a boy picks on a girl is because he likes her. Oh, he should serenade her! That would be romantic!"
"No, no flashmob and definitely no serenading!" Claudia immediately shrieked, as if appalled by the very suggestion. I did think that flash mobs were tacky,
and serenades just embarrassing for both parties, but not with as much denial as Claudia. "I specifically told him not to tell her how he feels."
Here I was thinking that Claudia was my best friend. How could she not want Ben to tell me how he felt? Claudia, the advocate of Feelings Hour every Friday at the office, was telling Ben, the lovesick fool, not to tell me he was desperately in love with me?
"Yeah, I see how that could totally backfire on him," Ursula agreed, and I could hear her voice rounding the room, getting softer then louder as she paced. I fought the urge to sneeze. "Are we sure she isn't a lesbian?"
For your information, Ursula, open-toed, thick strapped sandals and distressed jeans do not a lesbian make. Thankfully Claudia came to my rescue.
"Trust me, she's not." Go Claudia! "But she's the proudest person I've ever met--and she's too judgmental, she would laugh poor Ben out of the room. She's only ever fallen in love with a boy once in her life--and it was Leo after he came out to us. She once dated a perfectly handsome guy and came home saying he was too handsome, and when she dated a perfectly romantic French guy, she broke up with him the minute she went back home. Ben would never make the cut."
In my defense, Mr. Entirely Too Handsome was having eye sex with every double D we came across (as if mine weren't enough?) and Fabian the French guy had zero plans of coming to Washington! Now I was going to be judged for that?
"So why don't you tell her, so she can actually think about it?" Marga asked, smacking what I was pretty sure was gum. It was a nasty habit. "Maybe you can help her, Claudia."
I could practically see Claudia rolling her eyes though the sheets of paper. In fact, if I really focused, I would see her peering over at me to make sure I was there. But that was just a trick of the light.
"Oh please. If I told Bea any of this, she would laugh me out of the room," Claudia said, sitting in the exact spot where I could perfectly half-see her. "I told Hiro to let Ben burn out his feelings for now, to spare him even more agony if she did find out. I even told Hiro about her really bad habits, just to put Ben off."
We Go Together Page 5