by Amanda Cowen
My love for sketching and painting didn’t wane as I grew older. It turned into something I knew I would always need in my life. It is what led me to San Francisco for the university’s graphic-design program.
“There,” Maisie says, leveling one of my favorite paintings: a scenic abstract of my hometown, Yachats. She steps back and admires it for a moment, then faces me. “I absolutely love the colors in this painting. I can’t even draw a stick figure, yet somehow you turned an Oregon skyline into a masterpiece.”
I shrug. “Everybody has their own talents. I wish I had your fashion sense. You can wear anything and make it look trendy.”
Catching Maisie’s eye from where she stands several feet away, I can tell she loves the compliment. And I didn’t just say it to be nice; it’s one-hundred percent true. Maisie should have her own fashion blog.
She perks up. “But that’s not nearly as cool as being an artist… and don’t forget, an accomplished ballet dancer.”
“You are talented too, baby.” Jayce appears and slides his arms around Maisie’s waist, kissing her neck. “You give an amazing blow job,” he whispers in her ear.
Maisie grins and pretends to be appalled, playfully smacking him in the arm.
“Jesus, Jayce,” Kale grumbles.
“I guess that’s kind of sweet.” Maisie winks at him. “Of course, you are talented too… in so many ways…” She wraps her arms around his neck and they gaze into each other’s eyes, like the room isn’t filling up with strangers, or me and Kale aren’t a few feet away.
“I think my ears are bleeding,” I groan. “Seriously. Do you guys need some privacy?”
Kale turns to me. “They are in love… unlike the rest of us.” He turns away from them, ignoring their public display of affection and admiring my paintings. “Hey, congrats on tonight, by the way. Your paintings are really amazing.”
I blush. “Thank you.”
“Ryan warned us you’re kick-ass,” Jayce pipes up. He takes a step closer and studies one of the more eclectic fairy tale-inspired landscapes. “But I didn’t expect everyone else’s paintings to look like grade-school artwork compared to yours.”
“Aw, that’s sweet of you to say, Jayce.” I say, watching him step away to study another. “Speaking of Ryan, where is he?”
“He’s on his way,” Kale says. “He needed to make a quick stop.”
“Oh.”
“We’re going to grab a drink from the bar, you want anything?” Maisie asks.
“No, thanks.”
They’ve already walked over to the bar when I hear Ryan’s voice. “Picasso’s got nothing on you.”
I meet his eyes. I expect it to be a little awkward since I’ve been spending all my time with Liam and I haven’t seen him in a while, but he holds my gaze and smiles in response. His eyes seem to be greener than brown today; and his lashes seem thicker, even darker. It’s probably because his olive-green t-shirt really makes his eyes pop. Or maybe it’s because of the tan; he’s clearly been spending a little more time under the sun.
“I am so happy to see you right now,” I tell him. My attention turns to a neatly wrapped present he’s holding in his hand. “My nerves are shot. You know I hate being the center of attention.”
“You have nothing to be nervous about.” He scans my body from head to toe, smiling. “You look hot as hell. Your paintings are kick-ass. And if anyone disses any one of them, I’ll feed them a knuckle sandwich.”
I laugh. “Please don’t ever use ‘knuckle sandwich’ ever again. You sound like my weird Uncle Clarence.”
“Hey, I already met Uncle Clarence, and he is full of wisdom,” he winks.
“He’s also an eccentric church-goer with a creepy mustache,” I remind him.
This makes Ryan laugh. He smiles slyly at me, then studies my collection of paintings one by one. He runs his fingers over my most recent painting, one he hasn’t seen before. I feel my face heat up a bit, and hope he doesn’t recognize my inspiration for it: the weeping-willow tree overhanging the park bench Ryan sat on at Gam-Gam’s eightieth birthday.
“You know, as much as I love the wacky worlds you put on canvas...” He turns to face me, smiling darkly as he does so. “I’m a tad offended you didn’t ask to paint my portrait for the big event. People tell me all the time that I’ve got the face of a Roman god.”
“Your heritage is Swedish,” I remind him. “You look nothing like a Roman anything.”
“I’m just saying, you’d be a millionaire if you mass-produced a print version of my side profile.” He turns to the side, and purposely emphasizes his jaw line. I stare at him, unimpressed.
“What? You don’t think my big brown eyes would sell paintings?”
I laugh. “I’d probably sell at least one… then again, Alodie doesn’t count as a buyer.”
“Right.” He doesn’t seem to think my comment is as funny as I do.
“Where is she, anyway?” I ask.
He looks over my shoulder at the crowd beyond. “I, um… I ended things with her last night.”
“Oh.” Our eyes meet, both our expressions unreadable. “Why didn’t you call me?”
“I didn’t want to bother you… I figured you’d be busy getting ready for the show.”
“I’m guessing you decided not to meet the parents.” I say.
He blinks at me. “It’s probably for the best.”
I feel immediate guilt for not spending more time with him. I should have been there for him to discuss what was going on with Alodie. But I guess he would have reached out to me by calling, texting or dropping by my apartment if he needed to talk to someone. I’m almost offended he didn’t since my apartment is his second home. And I am his best friend, after all.
“Have you ever met a girl’s parents before?” I pointedly ask.
“I’ve met both your parents,” he smiles.
“I mean, like a real girl. Not a friend.”
“A real girl?” He pauses, thoughtfully tapping his index finger on his lips. “Yeah. I guess not.”
“Ah, yes. Continue to build as many walls around you as possible,” I laugh. “That's really healthy.”
“You’re talking to me about putting up walls?” he raises a brow. “Have you told Liam about your mom? Or your dad?”
“It’s for his own protection. And this isn’t about me. It’s about you,” I insist. “Tell me, how was Alodie’s emotional state when you ended things?”
“She threw a few textbooks at me. There were a lot of tears. And I lost count of how many times she called me an asshole.”
“Great. Thanks a lot, Ryan. Now I am now dreading Saturday ballet class.” He laughs and absentmindedly bites down on his lower lip, amused as I continue to ramble. “Are you two actually done? Or is this just one of those fake breakups so you can avoid meeting her parents, but you end up boning her again by next weekend?”
“How horrible do you think I am?”
One of my eyebrows automatically go up. “Do you really want me to answer that?”
He laughs again and looks at the present in his hand. “Almost forgot. I got you something.” He hands me the present and I thank him, then slowly unwrap it. “It’s a set of those Tombow Mono drawing pencils you showed me online a few weeks ago.”
I stare at the highest quality of black lead pencils an artist can find in seventeen grades of hardness. They are made of unbreakable, high-density graphite lead; and leave a smooth, varnished finish. I’ve wanted a set since forever, but I couldn’t justify spending money I didn’t have on pencils I couldn’t afford.
I can hardly breathe. I can’t believe he remembered.
“I know you're not into typical girly shit like flowers so...” He trails off. It hits me that I haven’t said a word. “It’s my way of saying congratulations or whatever.”
“These are so awesome,” I finally gush. I look up at him, eyes wide. “I can’t believe you remembered. Thank you.” I lean forward and hug him tightly. God, he always smells
so good. He lets out a relieved breath into my hair and runs a hand over the back of my head. “I love them,” I whisper in his ear.
Just then, I look up and see Jayce, Maisie and Kale approaching us, each holding a drink. I’m shocked by how thoughtful Ryan’s gift is. I was expecting nothing from him. Or if something, a gag gift or a free hug. Talk about a surprisingly sweet gesture.
Maisie hands me a glass filled with what appears to be a mixed drink, and nods at Ryan. “Hey, you made it.”
“What’s that?” Kale points at my pencil set.
I look down at my new pencil set then over to Ryan, his face slightly flushed. “Ryan bought me a set of Tombow Mono pencils.”
“Wow. Pencils. How thoughtful,” Jayce teases him. “I didn’t realize you were such a softy.”
“They are special pencils, Jayce. For artists.” Ryan says in a stern tone.
“I think that’s very sweet and thoughtful of you,” Maisie says.
I look toward the building entrance, lifting my chin. Ryan’s eyes follow mine. Liam walks toward my display holding a beautiful bouquet of flowers, all smiles. He wasn’t supposed to come by until later tonight. What is he doing here already?
“Hey, you made it!” I step forward to greet him with a hug.
“Yeah, I had someone cover my shift,” he smiles down at me. “I didn’t want to miss your big art show.”
I can practically feel Ryan waiting for my response. Although Liam’s gesture is really sweet, normally I would panic if a guy is this upfront by modifying his life for me. Too serious. Too soon. But I play it cool in front of my friends. “You didn’t have to do that.”
“I wanted to.” He kisses my cheek. “And here, these are for you.”
He hands me the bouquet, and I instantly blush. My biggest pet peeve is when a guy buys me flowers. I’ve seen my father try and apologize for his rude and hurtful words toward my mother with flowers so many times, I think they have lost all meaning to me. Plus, flowers signify a relationship, which Liam and I are definitely not in. We are casually seeing each other. He knows this, right?
“Thank you,” I say.
Ryan’s snicker from behind me doesn’t go unnoticed by me or Liam.
“What is so funny, mate?” Liam asks, half-curious and half-annoyed.
“Nothing, man, sorry. I just ah… thought of something.”
I glare at Ryan to let him know I don’t appreciate his idiocy. He doesn’t have to say anything for me to know what he’s thinking. We both know I’d prefer a guy not buy me flowers because of my own personal issues, but I would never let Liam know that. Ryan better not let him know that, either.
“I love them.” I lie, press my nose against them, and inhale the flowers’ scent. They really do smell just as amazing as they look. “They are beautiful. Thank you so much.” I kiss him on the cheek.
Maisie, Jayce and Kale have moved on to admire the work of an artist set up on my right side, even though Ryan still lingers a few feet away. Liam views my artwork, a wrinkle in his forehead as he admires every piece. His silence makes me nervous. I don’t like the thought that he may be unsure of whether or not he likes my paintings.
“Your art is so…” He thinks of an appropriate description. “Abstract… is that the right word?”
“I suppose that’s one way to describe it.”
He points at a landscape of the Golden Gate Bridge contrasted with the ocean and sky. I used an unconventional color scheme to make the iconic red bridge pop on the canvas. “I really like this one,” he says.
I step closer and stand beside him. “Oh yeah. I painted it my freshman year. The San Francisco Bay.”
“How much?”
I laugh. “Excuse me?”
“How much?” He repeats himself, smiling at me. “I want to buy it.”
I swallow. I can feel Ryan watching our interaction from a distance, but it’s hard to see his face since he’s backlit by the city lights beaming in through the floor to ceiling windows.
“Oh…thank you. But it’s not for sale,” I tell him. “You can buy any other painting, just not this one.”
“Why not?”
“Um… Well… Because I promised this painting to Ryan. The day he graduates law school and gets a shiny corner office, he’s hanging it on his wall.”
“Oh. I see.” He doesn’t sound angry or even all that disappointed, just confused.
“But like I said,” I ramble on. “You can have any other painting. Just this one in particular isn’t for sale.”
From my peripheral vision, I catch Ryan watching us. He’s talking to two girls I recognize from campus, but he remains focused on me and Liam. My chest tightens and my face feels flushed despite not having a proper reason to feel this way.
“Alright. I’ll take this one instead.” Liam’s voice breaks me from my trance. I look up to see he’s selected the Yachats painting.
“Sure thing.”
As the evening wears on, I receive a lot of positive feedback, and I sell five more paintings. The older crowd eventually moves out and a younger university crowd moves in, transforming the space into a loud and liquor-filled party. Maisie is extra chatty, sitting up at the bar talking Liam’s ear off, and ordering another glass of white wine. Jayce is wearing a top hat he took from a bartender, while Kale is trying his best to flirt with a girl sitting on his lap.
Ryan appears to be the only one who’s sober. I watch as he is surrounded by the two girls I saw with him earlier. The one with brown hair leans in and whispers something in his ear, and the one with blonde hair hands him a drink. He raises his glass and smiles at me from across the room. When the blonde places a hand on his thigh, he ignores her advances, pulls out his cell phone from his pocket, and taps out a text message.
My phone vibrates in my purse. I fish it out and see a new message from Ryan. I look up to see him blinking innocently at me, which makes me smile back at him.
You better watch out, Jonesy… Looks like Maisie is making a strong move on Thor ;)
I can’t help but laugh. Maisie is probably drilling poor Liam with a million questions. It’s what she does. Not only is she naturally nosy, she loves to vet any potential guy in my life.
Ryan is watching me with a shit-eating grin. A follow-up message appears on my screen.
Don’t be jealous, though. Maisie’s got nothing on you…
Another quick text comes in mere moments later:
Except ginormous tits.
I can’t believe how he’s texting me about my lack of breasts during my art show, and with two girls already pawing at him. Doesn’t he have anything better to do?
I tap out a reply.
Haha. Very funny. In case you forgot, just because my tits are small doesn’t mean they aren’t jaw-dropping fantastic. I didn’t hear you complain…
Ryan’s smug gaze drops to my breasts. He taps his next response.
U saying you remember how much attention I gave those little flapjacks?
What a smug bastard. I draw a breath and answer back.
It was forgettable at best. And it ain’t ever happening again, so…
I glance up again to see the blonde making herself at home on his lap. I follow up on my last text.
Now stop harassing me and start paying attention to not one, but two ladies moving in for the rebound. Maybe if you act like a gentleman, you can get at least one of them to show you their tiny tits.
He doesn’t laugh like I thought he would. Weird. He glances at his phone before he taps out another text.
I’m not interested. Just passing the time. When’s the art show done, Picasso?
He’s such a tease. Those poor campus hussies. I laugh and respond.
Show officially ends in fifteen minutes.
His reply is instant.
Hurry up. I need your wingwoman expertise to get rid of these girls.
I join my friends at the bar once the show winds down. Ryan still has the same two girls perched on his side, so I slip between t
hem with a cheeky little smile. They look baffled when I face them, but Ryan looks pleasantly amused.
“Oh, sorry. Was I interrupting something?” I ask, playing innocent.
“No, of course not.” Ryan waves the bartender over. “Let me buy you a drink.”
The two girls glare at me as Ryan orders me a beer and hands it to me. The more Ryan and I chat circles around them, the faster they get the hint and move on to the next.
“You sure know how to scare ‘em away,” he winks. “Must be the nose ring. You look so badass these days.”
“Meh, being your wing woman all these years has given me a ton of practice.” I sip my drink. “My nose ring is just the icing on the cake.”
The night dissolves into drunken debauchery, with our group hanging out at the bar all throughout. I am nowhere near as drunk as my friends, even though I’ve had my fair share of alcohol. They’ve had the whole night to drink while I’ve only had the past forty-five minutes.
Liam is especially drunk. I discover he’s not a very nice drunk. He’s belligerent, callous, inconsiderate and rude. He thinks he’s being funny, but he’s not. He’s especially not funny when he decides to poke fun at the art show, then calls the painting he purchased an expensive finger painting. I know he’s drunk, and chances are he doesn’t mean to come across as rude, but he does.
He’s a mess, slurring his words for the past fifteen minutes, but Ryan keeps sending him shots. I watch as the bartender slides another shot from Ryan to Liam.
“Nah, mate. I’ve probably already had a few too many,” Liam shouts. “Don’t want to get too pissed up,” he laughs, slamming his palm against the bar top.
Ryan laughs back at him. “I think it’s a little too late for that.”
I consider taking the shot on Liam’s behalf. Even though he’s been an epic douchebag, he looks a little queasy. But my butt is parked on the stool beside Ryan’s. And while I think about possibly getting up to help out Liam, I don’t go anywhere.
“In America, it’s considered an insult if you don’t accept a drink from a friend,” Ryan smirks. “Drink up, Aussie boy.” He raises his shot glass in Liam’s direction.
“Alright, I suppose just one more.” Liam raises his shot glass, and they shoot back in unison.
