How about a date? Call me
I smiled to myself, added the phone number he had written to my phone, and stuffed the tissue back in my pocket. I wouldn’t be calling him for a date but it wouldn’t hurt being friendly with a handsome guy to show Sam I was moving on. I decided to return to school and Sam’s class the very next morning.
Chapter 13
I stood outside the studio waiting amongst the group of students for our teacher to arrive. I made sure I hadn’t got to class too early in case he had been there alone and I had to talk to him. Hiding at the back of the group I watched as he finally arrived, scanned the crowd and opened the door for us to enter with a disappointed look on his face. He hadn’t seen me hiding behind all the tall guys at the back and I intended to slip into the room unnoticed. As I was about to step over the threshold I felt a hand at my elbow. “Ana, a word please?” I snatched my arm away as if his touch had scalded me but stepped out of earshot of the class to hear what he had to say.
“Ana, I didn’t mean…” I scoffed before he got the chance to finish, “Don’t backtrack now, Sam, I don’t want to hear it. I’ve come to class for one thing and one thing only, to learn. After all, we’re thinking only of ourselves these days, isn’t that right?” He looked like I had wounded him which only fuelled the anger and defiance I felt toward him at that moment. Before he had time to respond I turned on my heel and entered the studio. I scanned the room and noticed Charlie grinning at me. He tapped a stool next to him, indicating that I should sit there, I walked over and dropped my stuff next to his. Each stool was positioned in front of an easel and each easel was angled toward a mound of junk in the centre of the room.
“Today I want you to portray the exhibit you see before you in any medium you prefer. Paint, charcoal, collage, it’s up to you.” Sam wandered around the exhibit adjusting the odd vase and broken prop from the drama department that were stacked awkwardly on top of each other. “This piece will be entirely your interpretation of what you see. You have three hours, break for thirty minutes halfway through. Off you go.” I immediately took my paint set and brushes out of my bag then visited the storeroom for water and a medium to paint on. I chose wood as I was attracted to the grain and felt it would reflect the shabbiness of the pile of bric-a-brac in front of me. I began to paint the basic outlines, acutely aware that I was being watched from the front of the room.
“You don’t lay down a drawing or grid first?” Charlie had leaned over to me and was watching my brush strokes. He had chosen paper and charcoal, crushing some of it into a bowl he had dipped his fingers into the fine powder and was using his hands as a drawing instrument. “No, I prefer to just paint from the start. I feel like it shapes the painting better in the end and allows me to be more expressive.” He nodded in understanding and turned back to his own easel. Before long he was making small talk again and I found myself falling into easy conversation. He had also begun to flirt in an obvious way and I used it to power my confidence and apply broad strokes to my canvas. I didn’t particularly reciprocate his behaviour but I did share a girlish giggle now and then to see what sort of reaction it would elicit from the brooding man at the front of the room.
After the break, for which I had left the room laughing loudly at Charlie and his jokes, we returned to find Sam pacing between our easels, studying each piece and making notes. We sat and continued our work as Sam surveyed us, stopping now and then to offer constructive criticism. He came to a stop behind Charlie’s shoulder and pointed out various areas of his drawing. “The sketch is a bit too loose around these areas. You should spend the rest of your time tightening the image and bringing out more of the details so it translates better to the viewer.” Charlie frowned and squinted at his drawing, I came quickly to his defence. “I think the softness of the drawing adds a certain mystery to the scene. Not everything has to be harsh lines.” Sam stared at me intently, a question burning in his eyes as his gaze passed from me to Charlie. “Regardless, I’m here for guidance and support. If Mr King wishes to take it or ignore it that is up to him.”
Sam continued his prowl around the room and I offered Charlie an eye roll and a small smile. The gesture seemed to invite him in for further flirting, he pushed me playfully and swooned. “My hero,” he whispered with a feminine breathiness as he batted his eyelashes dramatically. I felt Sam’s presence behind me, even then I was attuned to his every move. I chose to ignore it and continue adding bold highlights to the edge of a gramophone that dominated the centre of my line of sight. He was still watching a few minutes later, not passing critique but making me awkwardly aware of his nearness. I turned to peek at him over my shoulder. “Well?” I asked, almost challenging him to critique my work. He ran a hand wearily through his hair, clearly disturbed by my display of contempt. “Continue as you are,” he waved toward my canvas and continued on to the next easel. I caught Charlie grinning and watching me from the corner of his eye, “That’s my girl,” he whispered, a smirk playing around his lips. Sam stopped in his tracks and turned to me, hurt and anger registered deep in his eyes and I saw the same question enter his mind, he was wondering what my relationship with Charlie was. I did nothing to answer it for him.
* * *
We started at York Minster first. Charlie insisted we get that one out of the way as it was closest to campus and the most glaringly obvious stop on the sightseeing tour. I had already visited the cathedral on my earlier visit to York so we didn’t hang around there for long. Charlie pointed off to the right of the minster, “Just down there is the house where Guy Fawkes was born. It’s an inn now I think.” He then took my shoulders and practically frog-marched me through the city centre pointing out various shops and their histories. “There’s Betty’s tea room.” He pointed out a fancy looking cafe on the corner. “Run by Taylors of Harrogate, they make Yorkshire teabags.” I nodded and smiled as he took my hand and pulled me off down another street.
He took me through a small network of roads he called, “The Shambles”. The street, with the shop fronts jutting out and hanging over the cobbled walkways, looked like something straight out of a Harry Potter novel. Indeed there were three shops dedicated to the book series and packed with fans wearing slogan t-shirts and their favourite house scarfs. “The Shambles was originally a place all the Butchers sold their meat.” Charlie pulled me over to one of the shop fronts and pointed out the hooks that ran above the windows. “See the hooks? They hung the meat out on them. And the deep window ledges were where they lay joints out for display.” I could imagine the small, winding road full of swinging carcasses and lined with joints of bloody meat. I imagined it wouldn’t have smelt very nice back then.
After looking in a few of the cramped shops we stopped off at the Blue Bell pub which Charlie informed me was the only Grade II listed, Edwardian Public House in existence. It was all dark wood and cluttered walls, standing room only I clutched my pint and leaned against the bar. Regardless of how small it was it seemed very popular with the tourist crowds. They even sold their own merchandise from behind the bar. I watched Charlie as he sipped his drink in between the many stories he told, almost like a never-ending internal monologue he had put on loudspeaker. I liked him a lot, he was funny and charming and a massive flirt. I knew in that moment however, as he talked and talked in his animated boyish way, that I would never want to date him.
After our drinks we explored some more, approaching a large and round stone ruin, raised above the streets on a grassy mound. The sign outside read, “Clifford’s Tower”. We climbed the steep steps and entered the shell of a building. Charlie guided me up a winding stone staircase and we ended up on the top of the tower overlooking the city. I saw York Minster in the distance, we had walked some way across the city. I leaned my elbows on the outer wall and watched all the people below. “So in the twelfth century, the Jews were persecuted in York. They took refuge on the mound, it was constructed of wood back then, and a mob formed outside. They decided they would rather die by their own
hand rather than be killed by the mob. So they set fire to the wooden structure surrounding them and they burnt to death.”
Charlie joined me looking out over the city, elbows resting on the outer wall. I couldn’t suppress the grin that was forming, he grinned back at me, “What?” He asked, shoving me playfully with his hip. “I feel like I’m on a paid tour. How do you know so much about this place?” I waved a hand at the vast sprawl of streets below. He shrugged shyly and a red blush began to spread up his neck and across both cheeks. “Um, I may have worked as a tour guide here a couple of years ago. My parents own one of the open-top buses.” I laughed heartily and thanked him for my tour. He turned to face me and leaned casually against the stone. “So, what’s your story, Miss Ana?”
My shutters came down immediately, protecting me from sharing the things I wasn’t yet ready to share. He saw the guarded look in my eye and the grin vanished from his face, replaced with a concerned frown. “Oh not much really. I come from Surrey. Studied science previously. My aim was med school, I was going to be a surgeon. But I changed my mind in the end and came here instead.” He raised his eyebrows, surprised at my confession. “Why’d you give up med school?” I turned back to the view of the city so he wouldn’t see the pain in my eyes. “Oh it wasn’t really what I wanted. I’d done it for my dad mostly. I spent the summer with my grandmother in Italy and knew then that I really wanted to pursue art more than medicine.” I saw the question in his eyes but turned to head back down the staircase before he could ask it. I wasn’t ready to discuss my father and our falling out.
Charlie seemed to get the message that I did not like discussing my past. He stepped up his jovial flirting once again and swung an arm around my shoulders bringing our foreheads close together. “Ana, you didn’t tell me you were Italian. That’s hot!” He wagged his eyebrows and grinned at me suggestively. I laughed and shoved him playfully in the ribs. All the way to the bus stop he asked me to teach him dirty Italian words or if food really was better than sex in Italy. I rolled my eyes and took my bus pass out of my bag as the bus approached. “Thank you, once again, for my amazing tour. I’d give you a tip but I didn’t pay for you in the first place.” As he backed away from the crowded bus stop he waved me goodbye, “Hey, Ana? I really enjoyed our date!” As I climbed through the bus doors I yelled over the heads of others in the queue, “It was not a date!” He grinned and wandered off back toward the city centre on foot. Charlie definitely wasn’t my type in a boyfriend, but he certainly had cheered me up.
* * *
The weekend came and I spent it completing my first lot of coursework and catching up with Nonna and Abby. The cafe had also paid me my first paycheck so, after paying my bills, I got the bus into town to treat myself. In my heartbroken state I had been wearing nothing but t-shirts, jeans and leggings and doing nothing with my hair other than sticking it in a ponytail for the past few weeks. I wanted to feel better about myself again and start making more of an effort with my appearance. It would also hopefully show Sam what he was missing. I had booked in at the nearest hairdressers to have a new style and a warmer colour to reflect the oncoming autumn season. I also treated myself to a manicure and an eyebrow wax, it couldn’t hurt to tidy up the little things.
On the Sunday I got the bus to town and shopped for a couple of nice outfits and some new shoes including ankle boots. I also found some suede knee-high boots that I felt brave and daring purchasing but believed they would look nice with tights and the tunic dresses I had purchased. As the shops neared closing time I made my way to the bus stop and hauled my treats home. That night I cooked my first real meal in my kitchen, poured myself a glass of wine, and took out my phone to text Charlie.
Meet me for a coffee at Costa before class tomorrow?
I pressed the send button before I had a chance to rethink my decision. My phone pinged with a response.
Another date! Only joking, see you then.
I met him at the coffee shop on campus the following morning. He was already standing outside when I arrived and when he turned to look at me I noticed his appreciative gaze scanning me from head to foot. “Wow you look nice! What’s the occasion?” I had put the slightest bit of makeup on and was wearing my hair down and wavy. I had paired my new knee-high boots with black tights, a black skater skirt and a copper coloured, knitted jumper tucked in. “Payday,” I answered simply and lead the way to the counter inside. I ordered my favourite, white chocolate mocha, and waited with my card in hand to pay. A hand brushed my bare shoulder, Charlie stood close behind me, an arm reaching around my waist to pay for my coffee. I leaned away slightly from his closeness and gave him a questioning look.
“Coffee is on me,” he grinned down at me but removed his lingering hand from the curve of my shoulder. We grabbed our coffee and walked slowly toward the lecture theatre. “So the tour wasn’t a date, this coffee isn’t a date, when do I get to take you out for the real thing?” I clutched my coffee between both hands and shrugged shyly. “You haven’t actually properly asked yet.” I pointed this out to him matter of factly and he smirked to himself. “I’ll have to see what I can do about that.” He opened the door and waited for me to pass through, “Such the gent,” I teased. “Just a taster of what’s to come,” he announced proudly.
We stood outside the lecture theatre, my back against the wall and Charlie leaning in close next to me. I chatted away happily about my weekend and the project I was working on for my portfolio. He stared down at me, his face suddenly so serious it made me stop mid-sentence. I saw the resolve in his eyes and before I had chance to discourage it he leaned down and planted a firm, eager kiss onto my lips. The wall behind my back prevented me from retreating so I ducked slightly and averted my eyes from the joy that was in his. “Sorry,” he smirked, “I thought I’d just get that out of the way.” I blushed to the roots of my hair and looked down at my shoes. “No it’s fine, just caught me off guard.”
A small cough to my left caught my attention and I peeked up as Sam approached. His face was completely calm, a stone mask devoid of any emotion. He stared blankly at me. “Miss Ossani, you may enter,” he gestured toward the room but I couldn’t move. How much had he seen? His expression gave nothing away. “Or not,” he grimaced and entered himself, holding the door open behind him. How could he see me kiss another man and show no feeling whatsoever? The thought lit a fire in my heart and prompted me to do what I did next. I looked up at Charlie through the fan of my dark lashes and offered him the sweetest smile I could muster. A blush appeared on his cheeks but he smiled shyly back. “Are you coming in or not?” Sam huffed, finally showing cracks in his steely facade. Charlie slung a casual arm around my neck and I wrapped mine around his waist as we walked past a glowering Sam and took our seats near the back of the room.
As Sam proceeded with his lecture I stepped up my attempts to annoy him. Charlie whispered jokes in my ear and I giggled girlishly and fit my hand in his on the tabletop for maximum visibility. After about thirty minutes of our whispers and flirting there was an angry outburst from Sam who told us to either pay attention or leave the room. I upped my efforts and sat a little closer to Charlie. Leaning my shoulder against his I pretended to read the course notes on the desk in front of him. A cough from the front of the room made me glance up and meet Sam’s angry gaze. I rolled my eyes and sat back in my seat tapping my foot impatiently as if his lecture was boring me.
“Unfortunately I’m going to have to cut today’s lecture a little short. You won’t have to return after lunch.” I sat forward in my seat and exchanged confused glances with the students sitting near me. “You may spend the afternoon doing self-study or in the studio working on your various projects. You’re free to go.” He waved the pen in his hand toward the door and prompted the first row to leave the room. I grabbed my bag and began filing out with the rest. “Oh and Ana Ossani, stay behind please, I need to speak with you.” A weight dropped into the pit of my stomach. The confrontation was about to go down and I didn
’t feel up to letting him have his way. At the door I told Charlie to meet me at the student union bar before turning to face Sam at his desk.
“Close the door, Ana.” I crossed my arms defiantly, “I’d rather you leave it open.” He crossed the room in two bounding steps and slammed the door shut behind me. “What the fuck are you trying to do?” He pointed at me angrily and breathed heaving breaths as though he had just been running. I closed down my emotions and tried to appear as aloof as possible. “Why are you being so childish? Are you trying to get a rise out of me? Are you trying to distract me enough that I fuck up my class?” I scoffed and slumped into a chair in the front row. “Don’t act like you actually give a shit, Sam. You’re just annoyed I’m not pining for you like a lost little kitten and instead I’ve moved on just as fast as you seemed to.” His eyes burnt into me with a fiery intensity as he contemplated what I had said.
“You think I’ve moved on?” I nodded and refused to look at him. “Well you certainly seem to have moved on. And with Charlie-fucking-King of all people. He’s just a boy, Ana!” I sat up and glared at him, “He’s twenty, he’s hardly a child!” He laughed without humour, “He is compared to you and I. When you think of our lives, he’s barely lived.” I squirmed awkwardly in my seat and avoided his piercing eyes. “Is he who you want?” He asked, almost angrily but also hesitant. I stood and grabbed my bag, “I’m not doing this anymore,” I muttered as I almost ran toward the door. He was in front of me in a second, blocking my path.
My Heart Lies in Pisciotta Page 11