My eyes drifted from the drawing to the ridiculous swimsuit model posters hanging over my bed. Everywhere you looked in my room, the posters, the football in the corner, the empty stack of beer cans I’d erected last semester into a pyramid sitting on my windowsill. My persona. My perfectly placed stereotypes displayed for the world to see.
“Taking care of myself is my only job,” I whispered as I put away the sketch pad and shouldered my bag.
I grabbed my phone out of my pocket, flipped through my contacts, and hit the call button. As the phone rang, my heart galloped, speeding through the oxygen in my blood.
Lightheaded and unsteady on my feet, his voice was almost unfamiliar.
“Haven’t heard from you in a while.”
“I’ve been busy.” I cleared away the anxiety in my throat and pulled at the confidence I’d wielded every day of my life. “Listen, Professor Hintz—”
“My buyer relocated to Seattle, Mr. Carter. Though, I’m sure I could—”
“I don’t have a piece to sell, well... not this very moment. Actually…” I summoned that courage, that feeling I got on the mark as the water settled into a placid calm before the storm, before I dove in and made it mine. “I’m calling about the TA position you have posted on the work-study website.”
“You have someone in mind?” His voice seemed bored, distant, as papers rustled in the background.
“Yes, sir. Me… I mean, I’d like to apply for the position.”
“You’re not an art major.”
“I’m not.”
“The position is for art majors, Mr. Carter.”
My left hand curled into a fist as I raised it and closed my eyes.
“Yet.”
“Yet? What do you mean, yet? Are you thinking of coming over to the dark side?”
“I am. I mean, I want to, but I have some questions, do you have time this morning to meet with me? I have a class at ten-thirty but—”
“Meet me at ten.” His tone was electric. “I have to say, you abandoning your pursuits of pie graphs and expense reports should be shocking, but I knew you’d come around. You’re too talented.”
I opened my eyes, my lungs filling slowly, my muscles rolling out along my limbs. “I sure hope so.”
“I’ll see you at ten.”
I didn’t move for what felt like a full minute. My phone in my hand, the conversation I’d just had repeating itself like a needle jumping on those old vinyl records my mom listened to when I was a kid. Camden laughed and the muffled sound of it, coming through the wall we shared, shook me awake.
Art major.
Taking care of myself is my only job.
Life’s too short for this is bad and this is good.
I took a few steps and leaned over my bed, my fingers gripping the bottom of the Miss July centerfold, and as I tore the picture from the wall, something long forgotten tore loose inside of me, as well.
I’d left Professor Hintz’s office with a long-ass list of classes I’d have to take if I, indeed, changed my major, but as I scanned down the page, I smiled. I was sure I could test into advanced drawing, and having to retake last semester had put me behind anyway. I hadn’t taken too many upper-division courses yet, and maybe Dean Thomlinson would help me out like he’d said he would last fall. He’d told me what I’d done to help Royal and Camden had been an “admirable” thing to do. He’d said he wished he could have given me a pardon, but rules were rules and all that bullshit. Maybe I could talk him into switching a few of my classes despite the cutoff date passing last week. I was busy, making plans inside my head, or I’d have seen her coming a mile away.
“Hey, you.”
She wore a dark green sweater that hung off her shoulder, her skin exposed like porcelain. Her braid was loose today, stray pieces of gold tickled the line of her jaw as she stood in front of me, cute with nerves as she bit her lip.
“Kai, I almost forgot…” Professor Hintz stumbled out of his office, another sheet of paper in his hand. “You’ll need a portfolio, nothing crazy, just a few pieces, all Teaching Assistants have to submit one. Don’t look so grim.” He shot Indie a smile. “Good morning, Miss O’Connell.”
“Professor.” Her pink lips matched the color of her cheeks as she smiled.
“Portfolio, by Monday.”
I avoided Indie’s curious stare as I nodded. “Monday.”
The door to his office shut, stealing the air from the hallway. “You’re going to TA for Professor Hintz?”
“I’m going to try.” I started to walk toward our shared art history class, wishing I wasn’t such a rude asshole, wishing she didn’t make me so fucking nervous.
She kept up, sliding easily alongside me. “Do you even paint?”
I stopped at the annoyed snap of her words. Incredulous and out of breath she gazed at me.
“No.”
“You don’t paint, but you’re going to TA for Professor Hintz?” Confusion dripped from her lips, and I couldn’t help the smile that quirked at the corners of my own. She was agitated, pulling at the strap of her bag, maybe even a little angry, and I had no doubt I was headed straight to hell. I liked it. I liked that I made her feel something.
I shrugged, loving how her cheeks had turned red. “Never painted, no desire to, but it’s better than being a janitor.”
“Do you always get everything you want?”
“Usually.”
But not you. I’ll never have you.
She narrowed her eyes. “How do you plan on assisting a painting class if you’ve never painted?”
I raised my hands. “I don’t know, maybe I’ll change my major.”
“To art?”
“You ask a lot of questions.” I started to walk again. “More than your brother. Which is kind of amazing if you think about it, because, well… Royal is Royal.”
She ignored me. “It’s your junior year.”
“And it’s your freshman year.”
She huffed a small, aggravated breath, and I paused outside the auditorium door.
“Why are you so bothered by a guy changing his major?”
“Because. Art is real, and serious, and… for some people, the only way to belong to something.” I wanted to reach out and feel the heat of her cheeks, feel that passion, steal some of it for myself, enough to get me through this day.
“Art is real for me.” I’d spoken softer than I’d intended, and her eyes found mine, eager, that curiosity bleeding away the ire. “No, Indie, I don’t paint, but I can draw, I’ve been drawing my entire life.”
“I didn’t know.”
“Not many people in my life do.”
“Oh.” The word floated sweet and perfect in the air between us.
The long, elegant line of her neck, the same line I’d botched in my hurried sketch the other day, moved as she swallowed.
Feeling bolder than I had any right to be with her, teasing, I thumbed a stray piece of her hair, loosened from her braid by the wind. “And now my secret belongs to you… just like art.”
Indigo
The heavy, coal-colored lashes that framed his dark brown eyes were the focus of my drawing. The tip of my pencil moved in a slow circle around the pupil, dilated and open, remembering how he’d looked at me, with intent, with purpose, a black hole sucking me in. Goosebumps marched down my arms as I imagined those very same eyes watching me from the back of the classroom. We weren’t even friends. Not in the traditional sense. Friends by association. Acquaintances linked by the branches of the swim team family tree. This boy who’d done nothing but ignore me, who’d worked his way under my skin regardless, had given me a piece of himself today, and I couldn’t for the life of me figure out why.
Kai had shared this big, colossal thing with me, the moment red and bright. I’d wanted to steal some of that color for myself. After he’d turned away, leaving me behind, more gray than blue, outside the auditorium door, pretending his words were real, that I belonged to his secret in some weird friend, but not
really friends, and hey here’s this piece of my puzzle do what you will with it sort of way.
Professor Blackwood, on his soapbox regarding the Surrealist and Modernist movements, asked the class for their opinions, successfully dragging me from my looping thoughts. The usual suspects all raised their hands, and I used the moment to steal a glance over my shoulder, instantly wishing I hadn’t. With a flexed jaw and deep, brooding brows, Kai stared back at me. I quickly brought my attention forward, to the slides on the screen, embarrassment flooding my cheeks and neck with heat. Dropping my shoulders, I attempted the smallest possible posture and stayed that way until the end of class. I didn’t look at him when I packed my bag, and I definitely didn’t look for him as I made my way up the stairs to the door. It was this precise reason I wasn’t prepared, and why I sucked in a surprised, not at all a relieved or hopeful breath, when I found him leaning against the wall just outside the classroom.
The navy St. Peter’s swim team hoodie he wore stretched across his chest and shoulders, fitting itself against his muscles in a way it would never fit my brother. Kai’s tall frame was broad and built, leaning out around his waist like all swimmers, but he seemed stronger, harder. Growing up with a brother on the swim team, I guess I’d become desensitized to the male body in some ways, going to meets all the time, it had become my status quo. But Kai was a piece of art. A sculpture, a presence on the mark, in the water, and now, his long body standing out amongst all the paintings, the color and line surrounding him.
“Hey.” The gruff sound of his voice was at odds with his lopsided grin.
He’d waited for me?
He doesn’t care.
I blinked, letting the voices clear before I answered him with a quiet, “Hi.”
A few seconds of silence ticked by, uncomfortable and sticky, until we tried to speak at the same time.
My laugh tickled with nerves, I said, “Sorry, you go first.”
Kai cut his long fingers into his thick, chocolate hair, and I stared at his knuckles for something to look at. Anything but those eyes, those eyes that hadn’t ever given me the time of day, but here, in this moment, saw right through me.
“Ladies first.” He shoved his hands in his pockets, stealing away my distraction and forcing me to meet his gaze.
His smile real and warm, seeped into his irises, and I struggled to find my vocabulary, anything at all to say. This wasn’t like me, and I swear to God, his smile got wider the longer I gawked at him. I blurted the only thing I could think, the one thing that had been bothering me since we’d walked into the classroom ninety minutes ago.
“I’m sorry if I was rude… earlier… Your major, it’s not my business. I mean… we’re hardly even friends.” The light in his eyes faded, his grin forced. “I didn’t mean it that way.”
“You’re right.”
“I’m right?” The grip I had on my bag tightened as I hugged the strap to my chest.
“The friend thing… I feel like that’s kind of my fault.”
“Kind of?”
His shoulders relaxed as he laughed. “You’re Royal’s sister.”
“And?”
“And he’s my teammate.”
I shrugged my shoulders, confusion settling between my brows. “You’ve lost me.”
“It’s a respect thing.”
“For me or for Royal?”
He slipped his thumbs under the straps of his backpack, his fingers curling around the black fabric until his knuckles were white. “Don’t worry about it.” He chuckled. “Just some self-imposed bro code.”
“That says we can’t be friends?”
“Come on.” He tipped his head to the right. “I’ll walk you to Beckett to meet your brother.”
“That seems like something a friend would do…”
He rolled his eyes. “I’ll make an exception.”
“I feel so special.”
He coughed out another laugh. “You’re a smart ass… I would’ve never thought.”
“Because I’m quiet?” I guessed as we headed toward the east side of campus.
“Yeah…” He slowed his pace, the tight edge of his smile softening. “You’re different than your brother.”
I lowered my chin, watching the concrete like my life depended on it.
You’re strange.
A loner.
Different didn’t have to mean odd, or weird. My dad used to tell me, unique was a quality painted in stars and silver. As much as I’d appreciated his advice, I’d wanted to argue that sometimes different was the color silver turned as it tarnished. Murky and dull, and unwanted. Something to scrub away in hopes of revealing a treasure underneath. I didn’t want to be different. I wanted to be a girl, walking across campus with this cute guy, having a real conversation that didn’t involve her brother.
“Hey.” He tugged on the strap of my bag. “That’s not a bad thing.”
I swallowed and managed a smile. “He’s a force, hard to miss.”
“He’s a pain in the ass.”
I laughed and it loosened the doubt twisting around my ribs. “He can be.”
“It would be weird to have a twin.”
I didn’t think the world could handle two Kai Carters.
“He’s my left lung.”
“Like that black and white fish thing.”
I crinkled my nose. “What?”
“That thing, it looks like two fish hugging.”
My head tipped to the side as I laughed. “You mean the Yin and the Yang?”
“Sure.” His laugh was quiet as he watched me. “Is that what it’s called?”
“Yes.”
“I’ll have to look it up.”
“You don’t believe me?”
“I do… but it doesn’t sound right.”
“I’m right.” My cheeks ached from smiling so much.
He stopped short, his eyes falling to my mouth. “You’re probably right.”
“I’m right.” I pressed my lips together to stop myself from grinning like an idiot, and he started to walk backward.
He pointed toward Beckett. “Enjoy your lunch, O’Connell.”
“You’re not coming?” I asked, even though I was used to this disappearing act.
“I’ve got a major to change, remember.” He shot me another heartbreaking smile, two girls who happened to be walking by stared at him with abandon, as he waved at me. “See you around, Friend.”
Friend.
Liar.
There was this hidden, brash, burning orange inside me that ignored the false whispers inside my brain. This tiny seed, telling me to hold my head up high, begged me to throw him a flirty comeback. Like Daphne, I could’ve called him out for his cute, smart remark, but instead I kept my feet firmly planted in reality, and offered him a shy wave of my hand, not making more of his sudden chivalry than I should. Corbin and Dev would have walked with me, and actually had on many occasions. It didn’t have to mean anything.
But it did.
To me, it did, and I couldn’t stop myself from thinking about that big, colossal red moment when he’d touched my hair, and his pupils had become that black hole, open, wide, drawing me closer. I wanted more. His secret felt like more, and he’d given it to me, given me more without even knowing it. More than normal, than sitting alone in my silence, than everyday heartbeats. I’d been waiting for more, a definition I’d given to something I’d started to believe never existed in the first place. A fairytale I’d conjured based on the love my parents shared. A hope that, like my father, I was worthy of a happily ever after, too. And perhaps this was a simple crush, a product of naivety, my heart painting its own creation, tired of the blank canvas I’d left behind inside its walls. I wanted it to unravel something, even if in the end, the ghosts in my head won, and all that was left of my more was a friend who filled out his sweaters, leaned against walls like a sculpture, and left me wanting.
“Has she emerged yet?” Ari asked as she plopped down next to me onto the sofa.
<
br /> I kicked my feet onto the couch and stretched them over her lap. “Is she home?”
There wasn’t any light peeking out from under the door of the room Daphne and I shared. The four-bedroom suite quiet except for the soft music playing from my iPad. We all shared the small place, but were lucky enough to have a nice, open living room and, if we had the time, could actually cook something if we wanted in the tiny, galley kitchen. I didn’t think any of us had actually used the stove, though. We’d all agreed at the beginning of last semester on a communal pantry, stocked to the gills with all kinds of snacks for late-night study binges, and tended to use the dining hall for big meals. The pantry had been Imogen’s idea, my other suitemate, which ended up being kind of comical since she was never here. She was a senior and the chief editor of The Silver Wolf Gazette, St. Peter’s student-run newspaper, spending the majority of her time in the journalism offices.
“Daphne came home this afternoon and hasn’t left her room that I know of.” Ari raised a flawless, arched brow. “Pretty sure she was toasted, too.”
“She’s been drinking a lot more this semester.”
Ari’s laugh held no humor. “She just hid it better last semester. Indie, you’re too sweet. She’s a bit Jekyll and Hyde, if you ask me, but you spend more time with her than I do.” She pulled her thick curls into a messy knot, using the elastic on her wrist to hold it in place. “If she’s not careful, she’ll end up just like my cousin who lives in Malibu. Expelled and living in rehab.”
“Your cousin was expelled?”
“Yup, last year. We shared a dorm on the third floor. Drunk every damn day. Alcoholism runs in my family, but I don’t touch the stuff.”
Seven Shades of You Page 6
