by Amy Sparling
Park: Wanna grab some dinner?
Just seeing the word dinner makes my stomach ache. I’m starving and Park loves all of the same food places that I do. Brendan always whined whenever I wanted anything other than pizza or burgers.
Me: Totally. Pick me up soon?
Park: Be there in 20
Even though I spend the next few minutes getting dressed and brushing my hair, twenty minutes blows my quicker than it feels. There’s a knock at my door and I glance behind me, seeing Park’s truck waiting on the side of the road. With one last look in the mirror, I frown at how my highlights are growing out pretty terribly, and then open my bedroom door.
“You don’t have to knock and then wait out in the hallway, you know,” I tell Park as he walks inside my room. He doesn’t answer. He just slips his hands around my waist and pulls me toward him, making his lips crash into mine. As we kiss, the feel of him so close to me makes my heart ache with longing. I’m starting to think we’ll never stop kissing each other until I hear Mom’s footsteps on the stairs.
We pull apart and I take a few steps backward until I’m in front of my easel. Mom appears in the doorway. “Park said you were going out for dinner? Could you get me something to go?”
“Sure,” I say, feeling my chest heave with the leftover adrenaline of making out with Park just seconds ago. “We don’t know where we’re going yet.”
“That’s fine, just call me when you get there and I’ll pick something.” She digs through her jeans pocket and takes out a twenty dollar bill.
“It’s on me,” Park says, waving her hand away and flashing her that million dollar smile of his. Mom smiles and gives his arm a good squeeze. “Thank you, dear. I appreciate it.”
Behind his back, she gives me that little smirky smile thing that’s supposed to be secret code for how much she likes my boyfriend. I roll my eyes but deep down I’m glad Mom likes Park. Because I like him too. And I should really stop avoiding him and figure out a way to make this life with him perfect and not guilt-inducing.
Now if only I can accomplish that without throwing up on myself first.
“So is anything bothering you?” Park asks before he’s even taken a bite of his burger. We’re at a local diner, which ended up being our last resort when we couldn’t think of a better restaurant for dinner. But as it turns out, it was a great choice because the burgers are freaking delicious.
“Honestly, Park…” As soon as the words are out of my mouth I close it back up again and begin stirring the sugar around my sweet tea.
“You definitely need to finish that statement.” Park sets his burger down and looks at me. “You’re not about to break up with me, are you?”
“What? No!” I shake my head so furiously it might fall right off my neck. “No, babe. I love you. A lot.”
“Good,” he says, letting out a breath. “As long as that’s clear, take your time letting me know what’s wrong.” There’s a smile at the corner of his mouth as he takes a bite. “Damn these things are good.”
“That’s what I told you five minutes ago,” I say with a laugh. “But no…you had to eat fries first.”
He shrugs and takes another bite. “We should come here more often.”
I nod. “Totally.”
“So what’s wrong?”
I roll my eyes. “You told me I could take my time.”
“Yeah and it’s been like two minutes. Surely that’s enough time?” He winks at me when I give him an annoyed look.
“Fine.” I take a long sip of tea and then sit back in my chair, feeling a flood of nervousness pour through my chest. I don’t want to say these things but I know I need to. I can’t live my life this way, constantly worrying about stuff that might be fixable. I take a deep breath. “Okay, Park. Here’s what’s wrong. I love you and you love me and things are great,” I begin, feeling my fingertips shake with worry.
“How is that a problem?” he interjects.
“You moved here. You bought a house. You’ve made like a million sacrifices in the last month just to be with me.”
He nods. “It’s called love. What’s the problem?”
“I—I just…” I close my mouth and breathe, trying to think of the right thing to say. “I worry that you’re getting ahead of yourself. That you’ve made too many sacrifices for our relationship and that maybe it’s not worth it. Maybe you’ll wake up one day and realize you don’t really like me that much.”
Park wipes his hands on the cloth napkin and then sets it back in his lap. His fingers clasp together in front of him and he leans forward just a little bit. “That’s not going to happen, Becca.”
“How do you know that?”
He shrugs. “I just do.”
My eyes burn with the sting of tears as I call forth the words I’ve been desperate to say, but haven’t yet. “How do you know you want to be with me forever when we haven’t even had sex yet?”
There. I did it. Quietly, so no one else could hear, but I did it.
“Becca. Is that what’s bothering you?”
I nod, looking at my hands. Now even this delicious burger doesn’t look appetizing.
He puts a hand on mine and squeezes it. “Honey, that’s not a problem at all. We’ll get there when you’re ready and it’ll be awesome and there’s nothing to worry about.”
“How do you know what? What if you hate hating sex with me? What if I’m terrible at it?”
He laughs. Actually laughs. “Honey I’m serious. That won’t happen. Trust me, sex doesn’t determine if a relationship is good.”
“Trust you?” I blurt out loud enough to make the couple in the next booth over look back at us. My hands turn to fists and I pull away from his grasp. “Right, okay. I’m so glad I can trust you on this.”
“Becca, what is wrong? Of course you can trust me.”
I shake my head, feeling rage and embarrassment and all kinds of stupid emotions crash into me all at once. I stand from the booth and toss my napkin on the table. “Okay well great. I’m glad you’re so freaking experienced in the subject that you can tell me without a doubt that sex won’t change anything. So glad you know that.”
“Becca…” Park goes to stand, but I turn away and leave. I don’t want to hear what he has to say. He can’t make it better. He can’t change the fact that he’s experienced as hell and I am so not.
Chapter 5
Bayleigh’s car is in the driveway when I get home after class. She had texted me asking for a last-minute babysitter and I told her I’d be available at five. I glance at the clock on my dashboard—it is exactly four fifty-two.
Jett’s laughter bursts through the front door as I make my way inside. Mom is on the floor in our living room, making gooey baby faces at him while he stands on shaky little chubby legs, playing with her.
“You’re early,” I say, dropping my books and purse on the coffee table. Mom excuses herself saying she has a hair appointment and threatens to steal Jett so she can show him off to her friends at the salon.
As soon as she’s out of the house, the door closing securely behind her, Bayleigh’s eyes bug out of her head. “I’m early because I need time to chat with you before going to the movie with Jace.”
“What’s up?” I ask, kicking off my shoes and settling down with Jett on the floor. He hands me a stuffed bunny that he carries with him everywhere and I make the bunny hop around until Jett laughs.
“You tell me what’s up,” she says, giving me those eyes that says she’s up to something mischievous.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
She folds her arms over her chest and looks at me with her creepy mother-knows-all look. “Well then tell me why Jace was on the phone with Park last night, telling him not to worry and that it’ll be fine?”
“He said what?” My outburst ruins the calm composure I had tried so hard to develop. “Jace and Park talk about stuff like that? But they’re men.”
“Men can call up a friend to complain ab
out relationship problems you know. So tell me what happened. Why was Jace telling him it would be fine? Did you two get into a fight?”
I shake my head. “No I’m just being impossible as always.”
“He didn’t say that,” Bayleigh says, although I’m certain she’s lying. Jace tells her everything but he’s also a guy and guys don’t share details because they’re typically too bored to recall them.
I try to busy myself with Jett but Bayleigh is insistent. Finally, after glancing in the driveway to make sure Dad’s not home and Mom’s car is officially gone, I tell her. I tell her about my worries and my fears and the sex thing.
It’s the sex thing that makes her mouth fall open.
“You haven’t had sex yet? Like, seriously?”
Blood rushes to my face and I shake my head. “Nope.”
“Have you gotten close?”
“I mean…not really.”
“Wow!” Bayleigh laughs and then immediately claps her hand over her mouth. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to laugh. Look at you, you’re so well adjusted and proper. That’s impressive.”
“It isn’t funny, Bay. It’s actually annoying. See, I can’t stop worrying that not only is he leaving his entire life behind to come here and be with me, and that’s got its own problems, but what if he does all of that and then finds out that I’m terrible in bed?”
“Everyone’s terrible in bed at first,” Bayleigh says. “If Jace wasn’t super helpful with me then I’m not even sure I’d have known what to do,” she admits. Her cheeks blush a moment later. “Besides,” she says, shrugging off the memories that had so obviously formed in her mind, “Park will do the same with you. You won’t totally suck at sex, I promise.”
“How can you promise me that? You haven’t had sex with me.”
Bayleigh rolls her eyes. “I promise you that Park will like having sex with you. If he doesn’t, I’ll give you a money back guarantee.”
We laugh and then I lie on my stomach to play with Jett as he baby crawls across the living room rug. The sex thing is still on my mind but I’m trying very hard not to let it get to me. To pretend that everything is cool and peachy and fine.
“I gotta go,” Bayleigh says a few minutes later. “I didn’t realize date nights were so great until I didn’t have them for a few months.”
“They say it keeps a relationship together,” I say, dolling out advice I’ve only heard second-hand.
I walk Bayleigh to the door and she shakes her head. “No, honey. Date nights don’t keep us together…” Her eyes narrow and she gives me this creepy look. “The sex does!” She cracks up into laugher and I shove her toward the door. “You can go away now,” I say, glancing back at Jett who is starting to fall asleep with his bunny in his arms.
“Seriously though,” she says, stopping in the doorway and putting her tiny hand with its massive diamond ring on my shoulder. “Don’t let sex stress you out. It’s supposed to be fun.”
I sigh. “It’s like, every day it doesn’t happen is another reason for me to worry. Sex wasn’t that big of a deal at first and now it’s a huge deal, at least in my mind.”
Her lips squish to the side of her mouth. “Park hasn’t been asking you to do it?”
I shake my head. “He’s too….gentlemanly.”
This gets a laugh out of her and if I were in her position, I might laugh too. After all, Park had the reputation of being a ladies man before I met him. “The fact that he used to be some kind of player and now he’s in a relationship with me and hasn’t—you know—I just, I wonder if there’s something wrong with me.”
Bayleigh’s eyes go serious and she squeezes my shoulder. “Don’t you dare say that, Becca Sosa! You are so good enough for that boy. You’re better than good enough.”
“Thanks,” I say with a smile that’s so forced it probably looks like a frown.
“I love you,” she says. “This will be okay. You’ll see.”
“I love you, too,” I mumble back as I watch my best friend skip down my driveway without a care in the world.
Chapter 6
The next morning, my phone’s vibrating wakes me up at an hour that should be off limits unless there’s some kind of emergency. Wait. Maybe it is an emergency. I flop over in bed in a panic, thinking the worst. Maybe Bayleigh is calling form the emergency room of Lawson General.
But the moment my sleepy eyes focus on the cell phone screen, I frown. It wasn’t a call or a text that had sent my phone into hyperactive buzzing mode—it was alerts from my email. Apparently I sold a few paintings.
Wait… no.
All of them.
I sit up in bed, tossing off the comforter because suddenly everything’s gone all hot on me. This must be some kind of glitch in the system—there’s no way I’ve sold all seventeen paintings I had listed on Etsy overnight.
Grabbing my laptop from underneath my bed where I had shoved it before falling asleep, I power it up and wait for the page to load. Sure enough, all seventeen of my listings have been purchased over the last few hours. Most of them from separate buyers, although a few people bought more than one.
I do the math in my head. At thirty five dollars each, I now have six hundred dollars in my bank account. I can’t believe that so many people actually care about the art that I’ve created. It’s one thing to see my canvases and think they’re cool, but the fact that people actually spent their money on my creations brings a tear to my eye. Maybe a career in art really is viable. Maybe I really can succeed.
Even though my computer tells me it’s four fifteen in the morning, I’m too hyped up with excitement to go back to sleep. Luckily, I don’t have work in the morning, so who cares. I climb out of bed and drag out all of the canvases I’ve made in the past two weeks but have been too lazy to list online.
With my cell phone, I take pictures of them and upload them online, along with descriptions. I keep them at the same price, a modest and respectful thirty-five dollars each. Park and my mother have argued that they should be priced higher, but I just can’t justify charging more for something I enjoy making.
Another thing that Mom had been talking about occurs to me as I finish the new listings. I’ll need to pay taxes and stuff on my income. I’ll need a separate bank account to keep businesses expenses and income organized. Maybe I’ll go down to the bank in the morning and open one up, under my business name: Becca’s Inspirations.
I know, I know. It’s a super original and unique name. My talent lies in painting artwork, not naming it.
I sell another painting just a few minutes after I’ve listed fifteen more. The rush of getting another sale sends chills down my spine and has me reeling with the desire to make more paintings as soon as possible. I glance around my room and take inventory—only three blank canvases left. I should probably start finding a way to buy them cheaper than at retail.
Now it’s nearly five in the morning and I’m no longer sleepy. With the adrenaline rush of thinking that my love of art could maybe, possibly, if I get lucky enough, become a career, I set up my easel and get to work on another inspirational saying.
My quote board is filled with ideas, but I don’t bother consulting it because I know exactly the quote for the deep blue paint I’m smoothing over the fresh canvas.
Every day is a second chance
I make the letters tall and narrow, with little curls at the end of each one. The canvas is deep blue with swirls of lighter blue fading into the background. The words are black, but after painting them, I go over them with a watered down silvery paint to let them shine. It’s gorgeous and I can’t stop smiling when I sign my name to the bottom corner.
My phone buzzes again and I grab it, feeling the pitter patter of my heart getting excited about another sale. Only it isn’t a sale, it’s a text from Park. At six in the morning.
Luckily, I don’t have time to panic and think something terrible has happened this time because his words scroll across the screen the moment I look at the phone.
I smile and look at the time again. Why is he up so freaking early? There’s no way he’s expecting a reply this soon because he knows I sleep as late as possible on my days off. So I figure he’ll be excited to see my reply.
Me: I love you
I look at the screen and then quickly type a second text.
Me: And I’m not blah about you.
Park: Shit did I wake you?
Me: Nope.
Park: Ok. I love you.
Me: You already said that.
Park:Just saying it again
Exhausted from waking up so early and from my spur of the moment painting, I lie back on my bed and hold the phone out so that I can see Park’s picture as my wallpaper. Sometimes, during moments like this, I realize just how much I love that boy. Freaking out about our future and sex and all kinds of other things doesn’t really do anything but stress me out. For now though, I am happy. I love Park and he loves me.
Without thinking, I call him. He answers on the second ring.
“Hey baby.” His voice is all throaty and sleepy and it makes me miss him a thousand times more than I already did.
“Hi,” I say back, sighing into the phone. “I just wanted to call and say I love you.”
“I’m glad you did. What’s up over there?”
“Not much,” I say, staring at the ceiling with my legs hanging off the edge of the bed. “I couldn’t sleep so I painted another canvas.”
“I can’t sleep either. I hate when things are weird between us.”
I sigh. “Things aren’t weird. I’m the weird one. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry. Hey, are you doing anything this morning?”
“No…why?” I ask.
I can hear Park shuffle around on the other end of the phone. It sounds like he’s getting out of bed and walking somewhere. A door opens. “How about I come pick you up and we get some breakfast?”
“At six in the morning?”
“We could come back to my place and fall asleep after.” Even through the phone I know he’s giving me his alluring, ultra-hot gaze. My stomach knots up and my mouth goes dry.