Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 86422 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 432(@200wpm)___ 346(@250wpm)___ 288(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 86422 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 432(@200wpm)___ 346(@250wpm)___ 288(@300wpm)
“That’s cute.” I smile.
“For a while it felt a little too real, but now I like it.”
“Because of your parents?” I ask softly.
“Yeah. My feelings were too much to handle for a while. I died my hair black and dove right into a solid emo phase, complete with The Cure’s Disintegration playlist on repeat. But I have some space and distance from that now.” She motions to the canvas full of bright colors. “I always miss them, and I doubt that will ever change, but it doesn’t hurt the same way it did when I first lost them.”
I shrug out of my jacket, let it fall to the floor, then tug my hoodie over my head, so I can fold her into a hug.
“What about your shirt?”
“I have lots of T-shirts, don’t worry about this one.” I settle my cheek on top of her head. “I can’t pretend to know how hard it must have been for you, or how difficult it still is, but I think it's brave of you to channel all those feelings into beautiful art.”
She tips her head back, eyes soft and watery, a faint smile on her lips. She settles her paint-splattered hand against my cheek. “You are the sweetest.”
“Just speaking my truth.” I squeeze her, and she squeezes back.
We stand there for a while, just holding each other, as I revel in her warmth and take in her painting. There’s something so familiar about it. It’s probably just the style being echoed from the hoodie I’m obsessed with wearing.
Her stomach rumbles, breaking the quiet.
“Rude,” she grumbles.
I laugh. “Someone’s hungry.”
“The bag of animal crackers I ate several hours ago tasted good, but the satiating factor is pretty low.”
“I brought you a sandwich.”
Her eyes flare. “Really?”
“Yeah. I know you’ve been here since your morning classes ended. I figured it wouldn’t hurt.” I’m aware that Fee can lose track of time and forget to eat when she’s creating.
“Boyfriend of the year award goes to you. Let me just wash my hands.” She kisses me on the cheek and heads to the sink on the other side of the room.
I unpack the bag, setting out our containers and we sit down to eat.
“Oh my gosh, this is my favorite!”
“Enid was working the cash register,” I explain.
“She knows I can’t resist the brie and blueberry combo. This was really thoughtful. Like super sweet, Mac.”
“Everybody needs to eat, and I wanted to spend time with you.”
Her expression softens. “I really like you.”
“I really like you, too, Fee. I wish I’d told you sooner.” The semester is almost half over and I don’t know what my summer looks like yet.
“We’re here now, and that’s what counts.”
We dig into our sandwiches and Fee quickly polishes off half of hers. “Do you want to try this? It’s really good.”
“Blueberry and prosciutto?” I give her a skeptical look.
“Just try a bite.” She passes me the second half.
I take a tentative bite and chew, groaning as the blueberry and brie burst across my tongue.
Her eyes light up. “Good, right?”
“I was hesitant, but it’s really good,” I agree.
“Like better than you’d ever expect.” She props her chin on her hands. “You can finish it if you want.”
“You only have a quarter left, though.” I motion to the mostly eaten sandwich.
Fee reaches for it. “I can never finish the whole thing, and you’re a hockey player with a bottomless pit.”
“This is not inaccurate.” I take another bite, groaning again.
Fee’s smile grows wider. “It gets better with every taste, doesn’t it?”
“Kind of like your lips,” I reply.
Fee throws her head back and laughs. “That was a spectacularly well-timed line.”
“It’s not a line if it’s the truth.” I grin.
“Ugh.” She holds a hand up. “Stop with the dimple! It’s so unfair.”
I grab her hand and kiss the palm. “I’m glad you came up with the fake-dating ploy.”
“You came up with it!”
“You told that girl I was your boyfriend.”
“Because you couldn’t finish a bite of food without getting hit on.”
“It was pretty frustrating, huh?”
“Especially because I’d been sitting across from you all year. At least we have the rest of the semester.” Her eyes dart away, a hint of sadness passing through them.
“What are you doing for the summer?” I ask.
“I’ll be local. It would be great if I can get a job on campus, or at a gallery or something.”
“Is that what you want to do when you graduate? Work in a gallery?”
“Pie in the sky? I’d love to have an installation in a gallery. But I’d have to get comfortable putting my art out there, and that can be daunting. And it can take time to build up a portfolio that galleries want to feature, so I’ll need a nine-to-five gig, but on the side, I’d love to create for other people until it’s my full time.” She bites her lip and peeks up at me from under her lashes. “Sometimes I draw stuff for Cammie.”