Catching Raven

by Smith, Lauren

  “Oh, don’t worry. They will. These are just the outlines.” I explain.

  “Okay, good,” she says, relief evident in her small features. “Having no color is soooo boring.”

  Couldn’t agree more. Is it possible I have a little fashionista on my hands? Someone call up Anna Wintour and tell her I found a prodigy. This one doesn’t pull any punches. It’s that unfiltered quality children possess. They say what they mean and mean what they say. At least when it’s coming from a five-year-old, it’s cute and endearing. Perhaps I’ll get lucky and all my professors will be repressed children trapped inside adult-sized bodies.

  Doubtful. Very doubtful.

  Her lips drop open. “You should make a princess gown!”

  “You think so?”

  She nods emphatically.

  I chuckle at her enthusiasm. “Maybe I will.”

  “Lily!” a voice hollers.

  Her eyes widen. “Uh-oh. That’s my mom. I gotta go.”

  “Okay. Bye.”

  She starts to run off but circles back around. “When you make that princess gown, make sure you give her a sword, too.”

  “I like how you think. You already know how to accessorize.”

  She grins, waves adiós, and dashes off.

  We’re all so eager to grow up and become adults, and then we get here and realize it’s not all that it’s cracked up to be. Things that were once so beautifully effortless become overly complex. Love, friendship, forgiveness, dreams—all so much easier to navigate during childhood. Every crucial decision was made by playing eeny, meeny, miny, moe, and potential love interests were left to the fate of flower petals.

  He loves me. He loves me not.

  Speaking of love interests….

  Nope. Not going there. Too painful. It was so much easier to keep everything contained when I was surrounded by friends and family. Being deprived of his love is tormenting. It’s almost as bad as receiving it. Because once you experience something so powerful, so all-consuming, you can never really go back to the way you were before. And anything that comes after pales in comparison.

  Annnd...there goes the urge to sketch.

  Feeling tapped out, I close my sketchbook, grab my coffee, and traipse to the nearest Metro station.

  Forty minutes later, I arrive back at the complex. I slip inside the door and gingerly climb the stairs, fishing my key out of my front pocket. Can’t wait to crawl into my bed and crash. When I reach the hallway, my feet come to an abrupt halt.

  What the?

  My heart begins pounding furiously. Breathing becomes shallow.

  Eric’s sitting outside my door, browsing on his phone, unaware that I’m watching.

  What is he doing here? I close my eyes and reopen them to make sure my mind isn’t playing tricks on me.

  Negative.

  I stay put, unsure of what to do. Half of me wants to sneak back out while I still have the chance, and the other half wants to sprint in his direction. Am I supposed to let him in? It’s not like I can kick him out. He traveled all the way here. But why?

  I tilt my head toward the ceiling and curse my love life—or lack thereof. I straighten my shoulders and start walking toward him. When he hears me approaching, he glances up with a hopeful expression on his face. It’s a look that squeezes my heart. He hops to his feet and slides his phone into his pocket, prepared to give me his full attention.

  I come to a smooth stop in front of him and stare. He waits patiently for me to say something. I’ve got nothing. I still can’t even wrap my brain around the fact that he’s here. The corners of his mouth lift into a grin. Something’s different about him. There’s a sense of ease that wasn’t there before. He looks happy. Peaceful. And utterly handsome, but that’s nothing new.

  He clears his throat to break the ice. “I, uh...hope you don’t mind that I waited here.”

  I do.

  But not really.

  “How long have you been waiting?”

  He glances down to check the time on his phone. “About an hour.”

  “Wanna come in?”

  I can tell he wants to say something sarcastic, but refrains. “Yeah, that’d be cool.”

  I shove my empty coffee container in his hand and step in front to unlock the door. He inches closer, making me hyperaware of his presence. My fingers fumble with the key like some blind drunk chick. When I finally manage to get the door open, he follows me inside, kicks it shut, and surveys the apartment.

  “A studio, huh? This must be killing you.”

  “It’s not that bad,” I lie.

  He gives me an amused look, knowing better. “You’re on my level now.”

  I ignore him and flip on the kitchen light. It flickers a few times, then casts a dull glow over the room. The incessant buzzing noise is an added bonus. I set my sketchbook and keys down, then rest my back against the edge of the counter.

  “Where’s the trash?” he asks.

  I point below the sink. He walks over and discards my cup, then stands in front of me, invading my personal space. My body’s natural inclination is to curl into him, so I do the opposite and lean back with nowhere to go. Having him here feels so normal, yet so strange. It’s as if no time has passed, even though it’s been almost six weeks. That’s half a season. But who’s counting?

  He swallows. “How have you been?”

  “Depends on the day. I’m dealing in my own way. I’m sure you can relate.”

  He nods. “You have no idea how much I’ve missed you.”

  I choose to bypass that comment entirely. “You seem different.”

  He rubs the back of his neck like he always does when he’s feeling uncomfortable or vulnerable. “Yeah. A lot has happened since I last saw you.”

  Wouldn’t doubt it. That’s what happens when you break up with someone and shut them out.

  “Anything you care to share?” Such as: Where have you been staying this whole time? What were you doing there? Why are you here now? When do you plan on leaving? Are you trying to get back together? Are you dating someone new?

  For a brief moment our eyes lock and it’s as if he can hear the onslaught of questions running rampant through my mind.

  He exhales a heavy breath. “A lot, actually.”

  He wanders into the living room, which also happens to be my bedroom. He plants his hands on his hips and stares out the window, deep in thought. I have an overwhelming urge to walk up behind him and wrap my arms around his torso for comfort, but I can’t seem to move.

  “I’m slowly working on rebuilding a relationship with my mom. She came to visit me at my uncle’s beach house and we were able to talk through some things. We have a long way to go, but we’re in family therapy and learning how to move forward.”

  “That’s great, Eric.” I wasn’t expecting that.

  “We laid everything out on the table. Good and bad. She’s actually doing pretty well.” He makes eye contact. “I have faith in her, Rave. It’s different this time. We’ve covered more ground in one month than we have in my entire life.”

  Hearing him call me “Rave” makes my stomach flutter like I’m fourteen again. Plenty of my friends use that nickname, but whenever Eric says it, it’s so much more intimate and personal. It’s not just a term of endearment; it’s a branding.

  “I’m so glad y’all are on the same page. I’ve wanted you to be happy for so long, and seeing you this way makes everything worth it. I feel like you’re finally getting everything you wanted. Happiness, peace, and stability.”

  “Yep. There’s only one thing missing.”

  He saunters over and places his hands on the countertop, caging me in. I couldn’t even tell you how fast my heart is beating because I have no idea what the hell happened to it. Logic tells me to push him away and be done with it. My heart wants to pull him closer and kiss him senseless.

  He rests his forehead against mine and closes his eyes. “I want my girl back.”

  My shoulders go lax. A glimpse of
a silver linked chain around his neck catches my attention. It looks oddly familiar. The tips of my fingers brush along the side of his neck as I pull the chain out from underneath his collar. He drops his gaze to the Audrey Hepburn pendant displayed in my palm.

  “Thought I’d return it.”

  “I didn’t even know you had this. It went missing a couple months ago.”

  “That’s because I swiped it before I left. I wanted a little piece of you after the breakup, so I stuffed it in my duffel bag ahead of time. Sorry I didn’t mention anything.”

  I release the pendant. “I’m not going back to Austin.”

  The corners of his mouth lift into a smirk. “How convenient. Neither am I.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Got a job at an art gallery nearby.”

  Poof!

  Romantic haze dissipates.

  “Oh, my God. You got a job? Are you freaking kidding me?!” I’ve been applying nonstop and he secured a job before he even crossed the California border? Lies.

  He steps back, confused by my outburst. “Why are you so upset? I meant it when I said I was coming back for you.”

  “Yeah, and I meant it when I said don’t bother.” I duck under his arm and put some much-needed space between us. No way am I going to let him charm me out of my common sense. I grind my teeth together, debating where to begin.

  “You are the most impulsive, exasperating son-of-a-bitch I’ve ever met. Certifiably crazy and unforgivably stubborn. You had no business coming out here and putting me in this position, assuming I’d be okay with it. And now you’ve given me no choice. Do you think that’s fair? I’m out here trying to make it on my own, and all of a sudden you barge in without any warning and expect me to forgive and forget. You still haven’t apologized for all the heartache you put me through last time. Or the time before that.”

  “Relax,” he says calmly, walking towards me. “I wasn’t banking on you agreeing to this, and I wasn’t trying to derail any of your dreams or hard work. I’m out here to pursue art. Yes, obviously you’re a major reason why I chose this location, but as per usual, it isn’t all about you.”

  “Don’t even—”

  He presses his index finger against my lips. “Shut up and let me finish.”

  I narrow my gaze and reconsider kicking him out. He cups my face and tilts it upward, his eyes burning with emotion.

  “You should know that I reached this decision after I took a step back from you—from us. I had to dismantle our relationship in order to find my identity. You’ve had yours figured out from the very beginning, but for me, it wasn’t so simple. I was lost. But I’m not anymore and you’re partially to blame. Being around you, seeing how fearless you are when it comes to your dreams, it’s made me more ambitious. I’ve always admired you, even when we were in high school. But then I fell in love with you, and everything else became a thousand times more inspiring. You’re my muse, Rave. Not just in art, but in life.”

  That is by far the greatest compliment I’ve ever received.

  Ugh, it’s so hard to stay mad at him when he opens up.

  “So here’s the plan; I’m going to hunt for a place of my own, and when I get settled in, I’m going to start taking you out on dates and apologizing profusely until you learn to like me again. Third time’s a charm.” He pauses. “Or in our case, maybe the fourth.” He shakes his head and refocuses. “Whatever. We’re bound to get it right eventually.”

  “And what if we break up?” I ask.

  “What if I just marry you instead?”

  Hope blooms in my chest. Not so fast. “Be serious.”

  “I am. This is it for me. I know it’ll take a while to prove that to you, but I’ll spend as much time as it takes earning your trust back. I love you. And it’s time I started treating you that way. I never wanted to hurt you, but I was convinced I had to do everything on my own. I learned not to depend on anyone because almost every person in my life was unreliable. But you never should’ve been grouped into that category. For that, I’m sorry.”

  “Where are you going to stay in the meantime?”

  “I was planning on sleeping in the truck.”

  “You drove out here?”

  He nods. “Had to have at least one duck in the row. Besides, I wanted to bring my stuff. The rest of it is chillin’ at my mom’s place until further notice.”

  “You know I’m not going to let you sleep in the truck, right? Not after you drove all the way out here.”

  “I was secretly hoping you’d say that.”

  “You can take the floor and I’ll take the futon. Once I like you again, I’ll consider sharing the bed.”

  “Give me twenty-four hours,” he says with a gleam in his eye.

  “Don’t push it.”

  He smiles and leans forward to press his lips into mine.

  I jerk back. “What did I just say?”

  “I already have heaps of bullshit to make up for anyway. Might as well put this one on my tab and make it worth the extra floor time.”

  Before I can protest, he kisses me. I inhale sharply. My eyes flutter closed and my hands slide around the back of his neck, pulling him closer, deepening the kiss. He breaks it and stares down at me, grinning like he just got everything he ever wanted. I grab the chain around his neck and yank him back to me. His hands grip my waist and boost me up onto the kitchen counter. He nudges himself between my legs and resumes kissing. We’re all frantic hands and hungry mouths, heated breaths and blissful sighs. With every searing touch, he fills me back up, reviving me. Our clothes disintegrate. My back meets the floor with a thud. Eric hovers, his chest rising and falling as rapidly as my heart’s beating.

  “Totally worth the ire,” he concludes.

  Given my current position, I have to agree.

  His plants my hands on either side of my head and interlaces our fingers. My legs reflexively wrap around his torso. I stare longingly into his arctic eyes. The natural light pouring in from the windows intensifies the color. I want those eyes fixated on me forever. Without warning, he rocks his hips forward and takes me. My back arches in response. His moves are forceful, dominant. My skin burns against the rough carpet, the sensations rippling throughout my body.

  I love him, I love him, I love him, is all I can think with each powerful thrust.

  As if he can read my thoughts, he kisses me hard and passionate. His mouth swallows up my euphoric cries. Once I peak, he follows me there in a series of shudders.

  Then we collapse.

  We lay together in a sticky, sweaty mess, waiting for our hearts to stop racing and our breathing to slow. His cheek is pressed against my chest, my fingertips lightly tracing the contours of his back. He moans in satisfaction.

  “Surely you like me after that?” he mutters.

  I laugh and use my weight to roll him off me and lay back. He leans up on an elbow and stares down at me with appreciation. He drops a kiss on my shoulder and brushes a stray hair out of my face.

  “For the record, I really wasn’t kidding about marrying you. When you’re done with design school, I’m pulling the trigger.”

  “Calm down. You haven’t even gained access to the futon yet.”

  “Twenty-three hours and forty-six minutes to go.”

  I twist my head. “You’re that convinced, huh?”

  “You’re not?”

  Truth is, I am.

  But just for fun, I’m going to make him suffer.

  EPILOGUE

  e r i c

  I can’t take my eyes off of my girl. Every time she sleeps, I have to pinch myself because it still doesn’t feel real that we’re back together. I’ve missed waking up to her every single morning. Making her breakfast, telling her how much I love her, how beautiful she is. Those things never get old. I’ve finally gained access to the bed, which means she likes me again. Sort of. I’m sure I’ll be kicked to the floor in no time. All the more reason to hurry up and get a different place. As much as I enjoy
living here with Rave, it’s too cramped and the floor is wreaking havoc on my back. She may not know it yet, but she’s coming with me. We’re upgrading to a one-bedroom apartment, even if it means I have to work two jobs to swing the rent.

  As each day passes, another piece of our trust restores. I can tell she half-expects me to dip out, but I’m not going anywhere. Not this time. I’m more than capable of opening up and being what she needs from here on out. Soon she’ll realize that. And now that she’s technically slumming it, she needs my help more than ever.

  Dr. Coleman and I set up a Skype session so he can get caught up on everything that’s happened. Unfortunately, because my mother lives in Texas, family therapy has been put on hold. To make up for that, she and I have been keeping in touch. She wants to fly out and meet Raven. I’m slowly warming up to the idea. Raven’s all for it, but we’ll see. Might as well get it over with, I guess. Introducing them sooner rather than later means we can all move forward. Barring any catastrophes, they’ll be in-laws.

  I know I said I’d wait until she’s done with design school before popping the question, but I lied. It’ll be in six months when we go home for Christmas. I’ve already found the ring and started planning. Six months may seem premature, but what can I say? If there’s one person who I want to spend the rest of my life chasing, it’s her. She deserves an epic love story, and I’m going to give her fleeting glimpses of one. It’ll be just within her reach.

  Out of the corner of my eye, I notice her stirring beneath the covers. A heavy yawn escapes her lips. I quietly wander over and sit down on the edge of the bed. The mattress dips beneath my weight, disturbing her. Sleepy brown eyes pop open.

  “Morning,” I greet, using my free hand to run my fingers through her hair.

  She blinks a few times, then rolls onto her back and stretches, providing a spectacular view of her curves.

  “Is that coffee in your hand?” she asks.

  “Absolutely not.”

  “Liar. Hand it over.”

  “Get your own,” I feign offense.

  “How hot is it?”

  “Scorching. Like our sex last night.”