by Lind, Valia
He walks into the shop, a little unsure of himself. I can almost see Dakota's satisfaction blossom on her face as she glances between us. Silently, I beg her not to say anything embarrassing.
"I'm out. You two behave." That's it. She's dead.
Grayson watches her leave before turning back to me.
"Ready to get to work?"
"Sure, just let me lock up." The store closes at eight and it's eight fifteen now. I move past Grayson, keeping my body a good arm length away from his as I head for the front door. After making sure the closed sign is on and the door is locked, I take a deep breath and head back over to Grayson. He’s standing by the counter, where my sketchbook and journal lay open for the world to see. I flip it closed.
"You know I'll have to see those in order to photograph them right?" he asks.
"Right, not yet though."
"You're the boss."
"I like the sound of that."
"I thought you might." I notice how tightly wound he seems. His shoulders are straight, his eyes won’t meet my own, and he keeps shuffling his feet like he can’t stand still. I may be evil but it’s making me all kinds of happy that he’s as nervous as I am.
"We can set up here or go in the back. My aunt is letting me use the storage room for my projects, but I thought we'd map our goals first, before we do anything specific."
"Sounds good to me. Lead the way."
I take him to the back of the small store, where I set up a table and sewing machine. There are fabric and clothes everywhere and with Grayson right behind me the space feels claustrophobic. I put as much distance as I can between us, hugging my books to my chest.
"I think we should start with formal wear. I have a few ideas for dresses, but I was also thinking of doing an everyday kind of a collection. I’ve sown quite a few pieces over the years, but if there’s something new we need to add, we can. I'm not sure what exactly you're looking for here, but if you have any specific subjects you want to see in the portfolio, let me know and I'll try to figure out if anything I've sketched fits. I also—"
"Brooklynn," he interrupts probably because I'm starting to sound like an idiot, rambling again. He moves closer to me, pulling out two chairs by the work table. I sit first and he follows suit. "Do you mind?" he asks pointing to the book that I'm still clutching in my hands. "I'd like to see."
I am shaking with terror.
Memories and emotions rush at me from every direction. I try to keep my breathing steady, but I know he sees the panic plainly on my face. My heart is beating loudly, so loudly that he can probably hear it in the sudden quietness of the store. I see the moment the realization that the last time he asked to see my book didn't go well registers in his eyes.
"I really, sincerely, would like to see your work," he almost whispers. The emotion in his voice is so powerful, it almost brings me to my knees. Whatever he may have said before, this is the moment that I truly realize he is not the same boy I knew.
Knowing that he needs to, I lay the book down on the table and open to the first page. My hands tremble at the prospect of someone, him, seeming my work. I hold my breath as he leans over the page to study the summer style shirt I've sketched. For some reason, some unfathomable reason, I want him to like it. More than anything, I want him to tell me that it's beautiful, or unique, or something he can see in a store or on a runway. His opinion matters, it really truly matters. With that realization, I close my eyes briefly, berating myself for letting him get to me like this. I guess I haven't been guarding my heart as closely as I thought. I’ve let myself be pulled in by the smiles and the charm.
"Brooklynn," his voice is but a whisper, "These are amazing."
My heart fills with emotions I cannot describe, stealing the very essence of my being, as his words take root in my soul. There’s no mockery, no lies, no undercurrents in that simple statement. His eyes shine with the truth of what he says and all I can think is,
I’m in trouble.
SEVENTEEN
I love deadlines. I like the whooshing sound they make as they fly by.
- Douglas Adams
He likes my work.
I carry that thought with me throughout the week, fantasizing about it during classes, mulling over it as I go to sleep. Even sister drama hasn't kept my good mood down for long.
Paige called last night, informing me in her clipped tone that she wants to read over my college essays before I send them in.
"I know you think you are perfectly capable of handling this yourself," she said. "But it's important to have someone who knows what to do review the final product."
"Paige, I haven't even written them yet," I felt the need to point out, not that it did any good.
"Of course not," she replied, as I'm the most incapable individual on the planet, "But I'm telling you now that you need to start, and that I need to review them." There was no argument in her voice. I agreed, just so I could get her off the phone.
I remember when I was six, Paige would always come into my room at night and braid my hair. It was longer back then, almost past my waist line. I thought I was Rapunzel, and so after my hair was all tucked in for the night, Paige would cover me in my three favorite blankets and read me a bedtime story. Mom would find us an hour later, still engrossed in the adventure and wide awake. Paige always took the blame, so I wouldn't get in trouble.
Now, every time we talk, I wish I still had that sister. The one who had my back, the one who looked out for me because she wanted to, not because our father told her to. I wish one stupid incident didn't ruin our relationship the way it did. It’s amazing how fragile human hearts are. One word or deed can start an avalanche.
This morning, I woke up with her on my mind, but the excitement of what today will bring overshadowed the sadness. Grayson and I haven't been able to meet after work again. My parents have been a little on me about being home right after the store closes. But we're meeting tonight. I have so many ideas running through my head, I don't even know if I can get them all on paper. We've been talking about themed shoots, so I've been trying to work out clothing assembles to reflect the different types of locations and subjects. Grayson and I’ve been sketching out an Arizonian weather kind of an idea. I’ve sown much of the ideas in my sketchbook over the summer, so now it’s just up to us to put the best pieces together. He said that living in a state with maximum sunshine and almost year round greenery, we can make something of a theme. I've wanted to try this fabric painting technique and I finally think I found just the skirt to try it on.
"We're still on for after work right?" Grayson asks, coming up beside me. Our next class is Mr. Blooms, and Grayson has been sitting in the back next to me so we can pass ideas back and forth. Now he's walking me to class.
I can feel the stares from all around me, drilling holes into my back, and I try not to cringe at the attention. Grayson doesn't even seem to notice, but he's probably used to it. He's getting the "he's so gorgeous I wish I was walking with him," looks while I'm getting the "who's that, what's wrong with her face, and is that Grayson's charity case of the week?" I try not to react as we pass Tamela and her posse but the smell of overpriced perfume and the sound of giggles are hard to ignore.
"So?"
"Yes," I guide myself out of the self-induced pity party, "We're on for tonight. I have some fall sketches for you to look at and see if you like anything."
"Sounds good." We make it to our desks and I reach for my sketches, but suddenly Tamela is there in all of her glitter glory. Seriously, she's sparkling like a freaking vampire today. It hurts my eyes. She plants her big butt in front of my face, blocking Grayson from my view before speaking.
"Heee-y Grayson," I cringe at her sing song greeting. Hasn't she realized by now how annoying that sound is, like nails on a chalkboard. I try to see around Tamela to gauge Grayson's reaction but she's not budging.
"We're going out tonight and of coo-urse you're invited. If you're not busy that is." I raise my head a little, ho
lding my breath, waiting for Grayson's answer. It's not like he's taken by me or anything, but my heart still beats in anticipation. We haven't been up front about our working together but obviously people have seen us talk in class this week. I have no hold on him, no obligation for him not to hang out with the queen of annoying and her followers. But a small part of me really wishes that he would chose me, that he would tell them he's spending his time with moi, so that I can watch Tamela's head explode.
"Actually," Grayson begins and I feel my breath catch. "I have some things to take care of tonight."
"What kind of things?" She's relentless, you’ve got to give her that. I stare at the piece of paper in front of me, my pencil posed to draw, but my hand won't move. I'm waiting for Grayson to put Tamela in her place, to tell her to back off.
"Family stuff." What? My heart sinks. "Obligation and all," I can see his shoulders shrug. "Can't get out of it." Tamela grumbles something under her breath but I'm no longer listening. I let my hair fall in front of my face, blocking any view of Grayson when Tamela finally makes her way to the front of the class. I know he's looking at me, but I refuse to make eye contact. It shouldn't matter, I tell myself, it's not like we're dating. I don't even want to be dating him, right?
Us walking to class together felt like something other than two people going in the same direction and when Tamela came over here, Grayson had the perfect opportunity to establish whatever this thing between us was. But he didn't. Maybe I should’ve been the one to speak up, but I’m so confused in my own mind, I don’t think it would do any good. I shouldn't be surprised, really. After all, I’m only average. Do boys like Grayson really go for average girls?
There’s a heaviness in my chest, thoughts racing through my mind. I told myself not to read into things, I told myself to be careful. This is the moment where I realize all that time pursuing me, all the comments about giving him a chance, it was all said and done so I can help him with his portfolio. It had nothing to do with me as a person and while I told myself I will keep my heart safe from the likes of Grayson, I lied. In the past week, I felt like there was finally someone who understood my fashion obsession, who could see my creative side and not judge it because it's not a 'plausible work option'. Grayson let me express myself as an artist, not criticize me for my failures. He didn't see me as dull and uninteresting, he saw me as creative and expressive.
Who am I kidding? He needed me to reach his own goals, I was nothing more than a means to an end. I don't know why I let myself believe anything else when I told Dakota and Chance that Grayson has something up his sleeve. I told them and myself that I would keep a distance, emotionally and physically, and not let myself be pulled into the handsome face and smooth talk. But I did.
I really, really did.
Because now, as I sit in my desk, trying to ignore his stare, I realize that I feel for him a lot more than just a passing fancy.
Grayson has made himself a place in my heart and now I will have to find a way to take him out of it.
EIGHTEEN
I wear a necklace, cause I wanna know when I'm upside down. - Mitch Hedberg
"I'm not feeling well, maybe I should just go home," I tell Dakota over the phone later that day.
I walked out of class the moment the teacher dismissed us, and have been avoiding Grayson ever since. He called and texted, but I left those unanswered because I really have no idea what to say. I’m being a complete and total girl and I need to stop before I talk to him. That much, at least, I know.
"You're feeling fine, and you are not running away," Dakota replies as I hear TV come on in the background. She starts flipping the channels like she always does, even when she knows what she wants to watch, just to reinforce the fact that she made the right decision. I hear the music change to voices in background as I groan.
"Look, he probably just didn't want Tamela to—"
"You are not really making excuses for him, are you?" I interrupt as I reach for the clothing in the box in front of me. "You've got to be kidding me. We got in another shipment of vintage blouses? This is ridiculous. We're running out of room."
"I'm not making excuses for him and don't change the subject."
"Fine," I grumble, studying the shirt I just pulled out of the box. The gray and orange stripes would've been cute if they weren't zigzagged across the shirt coupled with a picture of a mouse at the front. The whole thing makes me dizzy and a little uncomfortable, so I put it back.
"Maybe he just didn't—you know I can't come up with a good reason why he would tell her he's with family when he's coming to see you."
"He's embarrassed to be associated with me?"
"Then maybe he shouldn't walk you to class. I heard about that and I was on the other side of the campus."
"My point exactly! It makes no sense. Not that I care."
"You do care, darling which I find quite adorable. I don't remember the last time you liked a boy."
"I don't like him."
"I'm ignoring that blatant lie. Go do your thing and when he shows up, try and not strangle him with ribbons okay?"
"I make no promises," I reply before hanging up. I just have to act like nothing changed. We’ll both use each other to get our portfolios complete and then part ways. There’s no harm in that right?
"Brooklynn, your boy is here!" Aunt Evie shouts from the front of the store and I exhale in exasperation. Sure, that's not embarrassing at all. Seriously, my family is just out to ruin any chance I may have of a good normal life without the constant threat of humiliation. However, her words do spark a wicked thought in me. Let’s see if I can use her words to my advantage.
"Chance is here?" I shout back. I walk out to the front to find Grayson holding two cups of coffee. I try not to let the fact that he brought me coffee get to me. He's been doing little things like that, even at school, ever since we started working together and I'm trying really hard not to let myself enjoy it.
"Oh," I say going for a disappointed face, "Thanks Aunt Evie, but it's only Grayson."
"Whatever," she waves a hand. She's too focused on her project to pay anyone much attention. I think this is partially why she was so excited when I asked to work here. This way, she can spend her time with the details while I deal with the customers. I watch as she returns her attention to the display of purses in front of her before I move toward Grayson. I gesture for him to follow me to the back, grabbing the coffee out of his hand.
"Here." I produce my latest sketches, trying to keep it all business casual. That's my goal. If we can just get through the next couple of weeks, then I can tell Grayson goodbye and be done with him. I can do that. "I played a little with patterns but I think it can work since you wanted to go up to Prescott to do that whole nature shoot."
"Are you mad at me?" Grayson asks, ignoring my pages completely. He sets his cup on the table next to mine, peering down at me.
"Why would I be?"
"I don't know. You haven't answered your phone all day and you ignored me through the rest of the classes."
"Please Grayson, you're giving yourself too much credit. I would've actually had to think of you in order to ignore you. I've just been a little busy." I move away, because there is safety in distance, but he follows. I walk to the other side of the workbench, leaving the table to block Grayson's path.
"Ouch, you sure everything is okay between us?"
"The only thing between us is this table, so can we please get back to work so I can get home on time?" I start rearranging material around, putting different colors together, just so I won't have to look at Grayson. Looking at him always lowers my defenses, which is ridiculous, but true. It's about time I got that in check and got over it. I don't hear a reply from him, and I fight the urge to glance up.
Suddenly, he moves, his body closing in behind me and I turn to find him caging me in.
"What's going on?"
"I don't know what you mean."
"You know Brooklynn, you were never really good
at lying." Seriously, people have got to stop telling me that. I should take lessons or something because then I wouldn't have to be part of these uncomfortable situations.
"And how would you know that?"
"I remember. You used to say everything was fine when it wasn't."
"Well, it's hard to be fine when your hopes and dreams are crushed in a public display of humiliation, so give a man a medal for figuring that out," I try to move past him, as the memories of my childhood surface to suffocate me, but he won't budge. His hands are on either side of my body, his face leaning in close to mine. We stand frozen, neither one of us wanting to be the first to move. My mind drifts to a place I've been trying to keep locked up for so many years, a place that even Dakota never really knew about, a place that never let Grayson stray too far from my thoughts.
Even as a kid he fascinated me, while he made my life miserable. Now, as I study his eyes, I realize there was always something more to him than his mean streak. How crazy is it to like someone who made your life dreadful? What does that really say about me? But I remember, even as he was horrible to me, he took care of his family, he respected his elders, he smiled and the whole room would light up. He was only ever different with me.
"Brooklynn," Grayson's calming voice invades my thoughts now, "I’m truly sorry. You know that. But this isn’t about that. What did I do?" His gentle words wash over me, taking root in painful memories. I can feel the truth behind his words, the pure emotion he guards so closely, letting it pour into his admission.
"It's in the past," I state when I finally find my voice. But is it? I don't want to think about it. I'm done reliving the parts of my childhood that I want to forget. Because now, today, Grayson is not the boy from my nightmares.
